~ amor vincit omnia ~ we know of faith, hope and charity but the greatest of these is love ~ in all her variations_ our dizzy dreams taking flight, comfy silences, gentle moments, terrifying tempests and smooth sailing. the cymbals clash; the cello sobs sweet melody ebbs and flows ... we dance ~ fall in and out of step, bruise each-others' toes, then stumble upon the perfect tempo. blessed are the lovers that find a way with their own map .. of the impossibly tall bushy green maze that love requires - blind navigation with heart's compass each false step, made truth. every wrong turn, made right. until we emerge, scratched and bleeding perseverance tempered with truth_ the mystery solved, our definitions fixed upon the same bright star ... that guiding light that we first saw streaking across the sky .. -jd 7/27/15
they roll place to place, crash 'til time to move on.. ruthless wasted lives raised by blind idealisms chained by freedom no firm foundation huddled together in darkness dull eyes dirty feet all they own on their backs stashed in a packed bedroll.
someone has a car ... gas station baths, chips and cokes washing clothes where they can a parent's free food a decent bed, stolen smokes, trapped in self-inflicted shadows they roll on...
there was this wild old hippy chick in town that year _ yo i 'member her she was cray drivin' that white car all over town just lookin' she pay me to take my picture _ me and my cousin in front of grandmama's house _ was ten dollars just to stand there a couple minutes oooo did grandmama come out and cuss her _ GIT OFF MY PROPERTY WHITE GIRL she wave that wood cane all around little grey pigtail stuck out _ standing up like that old bulldog chained up next door WHO THE HELL YOU THINK YOU ARE she holler _ that white lady go whiter put her camera away right off try to apologize grandmama she ain't studyin' nobody payin' her precious boys for a picture. WE AIN'T NO ZOO. in memory of the quaint little fishing town that time forgot - jd
~ babylove ~ over the years, we come to believe we possess a deep understanding of the myriad ways of love, experienced... until we plumb the ocean of our heart, lose hold of the depth-finder_ discover sweetest love, our bottomless heart, in the endless wonder of tiny new eyes
mr. king introduced me to the blues. lucille's stinging voice, as he stroked her neck a dialog of familiars; a knowing dance for decades so intimate it made me blush. what did i know of pain? anguish so deep it made you moan and cry .. sounds of endless suffering: a broken heart, train done gone a left-behind woman with a faithless man. swelling emotion, powerful call and response of a man and his resonant " female" .. his muse who never let him down. i am forever grateful god bless the king of the kings... hallelujah, amen.