A resounding call to all the lamp light angles. Demons!
Lyrics:Sublime
Ive been off to the side for a while now, about 6 weeks ago I did a little painting to post with a blog, I scrapped the blog and the painting is somewhere with my table I guess. I ran away in the night drunk on cheap Irish Rose and malted beer. I ran as far as I could and I keep going for as long as I could too. I crossed comet trails with Kris in Shelby where the House Hartrum raised their glasses to Jameson, the future is in his eyes and the present is under his adept weight. We were starling and darling and nothing was missed as all the eyes were dotted with pride and passion. The T’s were V-necked. Tunic in the sun and pollen spore afternoons. It was good to take a break from our subtle jihads and make merry. And from that ebbing storm a wave made off with me and found myself under dueling rainbows setting across from the Matador spirit himself, Jack Grasyon. I witnessed his grace, flashing the blood stained and garish cape of chivalry and charm, tempting the bull. And leading the perils around his loins, a Man with infinite stamina and seed. Nature has not waged justice in Charleston in so long. And into the fray!
I made my way back across the land, and Touched the swirling mass of creative goop once more with the dearest master, Gant. He spoke of a desert people and tanks of water. Pressing his noble brow against the vesper spirit of companionship. The music in him has made towers in his mind. I saw the nothing lands of central Carolina. I … The journey came to a close as I zombie walked into the tiny dirty room I would be sleeping in for the last 11 days. The howling of the youth down the hall, the constant Spanish serenades from across the hall. Shuffling geriatric feet, bound together by a psychiatric age older then the numbers of man. The cadence of broken rap, the blips and wails of the pager. Fire drills and the constant burst of shower stalls, only running in 60second intervals, no shower curtains to protect the wet floor. The call for meds. The Chinese speaking overjoyed I the cafeteria at the sight of all the food. The Spanish vulgarities and chants of ‘punta’ evoking the most basic sense of humor among men. Late at night I would walk the halls with the saintly RN and talk about the soul and the spiritual womb, the virtues of good men. And on the last day I realized that I wasn’t here just to get my meds and make the family happy, No when I stop drinking. The drink to me is the poison mélange, in that time I would make the world happy. My world. I realized that I was there in those dirty crazy halls to learn that I had found my people.
I rode in a cab to the GreyHound station, I rode the bus into Asheville and I was home. I went down town to see the people, and I had noticed that nothing had changed. That all the world was mad, upsetting and depressed. I noticed how it all made my feelings of ‘flee from here’ swim like warm minnow, I remembered missing the spermatic laughter of the schizophrenic the burst of profanity form the terrorized. These things are the flaws labeled by the mad folk that handle our money and food.
The Komet has come again.
With Love, Joseph.