Be right back, I need a smoke

I do hope soon

As if to meet a girl,
With ringing ears,
And silly fears,
Of becoming a real woman...

I knew in the beginning,
I'd lose my fear,
Forget the tears,
And think not of my ending...

To shoot a pistol,
With grips of pearl,
And dreams, of becoming the outlaw.
I'd snatch the pistol from its holster,
Like an eagles claw;
And they'd say,
"There goes the gunman"

To look at all my night dreams,
While lying in sheets white,
I'd wonder why our best dreams,
Only come at night,
And how, all of the worst things,
Never come to light...

BluesPreacher

Very nice again Ms. Angel

Momma tell me,
is it true,
Does the world,
make you blue?
Little boys,
aint little boys,
And little girls,
leave their toys.
Daddy, daddy,
is it true,
Is the world,
cold and cruel?
Are we leaving you someday,
To no longer run and play?
If thats what getting old will bring,
Then, in my heart,
is growing pain...

BluesPreacher

worth the wait but dont stop now

Nice, and very creative style too

Loved it, Thanks for sharing

It was a time of strong winds and deep seas, that wailed and screamed at the shore, as a lion roars out in pain, when caught in the steel teeth of a trap. It was well after the days, when we all lived in the forest...

There are iron ships to be found everywhere. In the oceans, on the water, on the land, in the sky, and even further.

I was young then, as we all were. I was young, but tired and angry, with the eyes of an old, old man...

I traveled to distant lands across the oceans, upon the iron ships. We talked of wars, and almost hoped for them. Our time was long, slow and tedious. Our minds were dry and dusty. The places we went to were different, with exciting names. But, they too became dry and dusty in our minds, and we left them soon...

And we heard of wars, but none came. Except for those from within...

Strong winds came, and beat the shores.His name was Hurricane, and he brought pain, loss and destruction.There was no mercy...

We took our ships and hid in safe places,and left our families to tend for themselves.Ships and the men who sail them are cowards. Even, in time of war, they hide in their safe places and bring death and destruction to unknown faces...

Small boats filled the bottom of the channel, and we could not go home. We left our women and children in the hands of strangers, and crawled away to a new safe place.

When will it be safe to come home?...

BluesPreacher

The hardest thing about writing is capturing your thoughts, before another comes along to crowd it from your imagination. So, today I bought a new journal and took off to find a quiet place, to listen to myself.I loaded myself, my new journal, with its crisp unsoiled pages, my favorite pen and a pack of smokes into my truck. I drove just a short while before deciding to go atop a nearby hill, over looking the town, in which I live. Once there, I began to write...


Watching rainclouds lumber across the sky and broken rainbows, looking for recognition. Hearing the wisp of automobiles and the grunt of distant dirt bikes. The barking of peoples pets, mixed with the shallow thunder growling over the town. An occasional proud rooster crows out to the day. I sit quietly listening, hoping to hear a child's laughter,(No sweeter sound) but I am not rewarded.
No cheery chimney smoke, or church bells ringing. And, this town feels empty now.
I ask myself; Do these people just go to the store to shop and the barber for a haircut? Do they only go to the church to read about God? Is life some sort of robotic function for them? When asked,"What are you doing today?", do they already know or, is life like guessing where the next lightening bolt may strike?
The clouds are closer now, breaking up into smaller bits of ghostly cotton swaths. Changing without preconceived conceptions of what they should be.
I remember, while driving up to the top of this hill, I passed another truck, on the rocky desert trail. In that truck, were two young men, or boys on the bridge to manhood, possibly, and they were pulling behind them, an old boat. The boat had no trailer, so they were actually dragging it along with the pickup. There is no source of water for many miles around to float a boat. After all, this is the desert; So, I would suppose this to be a very odd scene but at the time I found it to be exuberating.
We are creatures of life.If we begin to see each blade of grass, as the same; If we see the forest but not the trees; If the wind is nothing but an annoyance to us; If babies do not amaze us; If you cannot find an interesting pile of rocks, or if we do not ever sit quietly and listen to the sounds around us, are we a part of this life?
And now, the cheery chimneys begin to smolder and the church bells begin to ring; Summoning the parishioners and the laughing children. And I will drive down off the hillside and tell you, this is what I did today...

BluesPreacher

We all fall short, thank God for mercy and Grace

Count the clouds,
Watch the cows,
And listen to the whispering wind.
It makes up for,
All the wasted time
At work, you spend.
When you're fed up,
With all the world,
All the hate and sin.
When no one gives you love,
And you're without a friend,
You can count the cows,
Watch the clouds,
And listen to the whispering wind.
It will make up,
For all your wasted time,
Trying to fit in.
Just listen to the whispering wind.

BluesPreacher

very beautiful

Thats an honor to remind someone of a song done by Johnny for sure, and if it's the one that was written by Tom Waits, then I am twice as honored

Thanks Again and sorry for my typo on the next to last line.
A few of you told me to call her but this was actually written for several people all over the country. A group much like this.
I just used that energy in another form.

Thank you all

God is good and God is Great
Something I hold dear.
Some say he's coming
And wont be late
Others, say he's already here.
I just wonder, how long we hafta wait,
Living in this fear.
And what of all the little ones,
That don't find their way here?
All them sons of a gun,
Are they all gonna stay?
And the hookers and lawyers,
And everyone filled with greed.
And all of them others,
Beneath the opiumtree.
Is that train a comin'
Is there a ticket punched for me?
Hey Lord, was I good enough,
You gotta ticket there for free?
We all gonna get on the train,
And hear that whistle blow?
Or, lay our heads on the track
And let that train a roll?
Aint lookin' for a luxury seat
And to tell you all the truth,
I'd be happy just to shovel coal
Or ride in the caboose...

BluesPreacher

A man once siad,"When my ship came in, I was waiting on a train."
Others have siad, "if you wanna catch a fish, you gotta drop a line."
I've heard the men are big and slow in Texas, but the women sure are fine.
So, You best just go and get your man cause waitin's just wastin' time.

very touching, thank you