The Blues: Seasoned With Pain

Eagles:  seven women on my mind – never here be here again – singing back-up to Glenn and Joe- say-ave-ave-ave meee-eeee-eeeeeee.  Save me.  SAVE ME!!  please.  PLEASE!!  lighten my load.

I woke this morning, feelin’ low.  left hand/pain.  Arthee-I-rities!!  Gut pain. hand pain.  Pandora haunting me; awake!!

“Hello, sleepy boy”.  Can you see what time it is?  Is it St. Judy’s Comet?  Can you make another day?   Can’t you see; can’t you see.  What that women, Lord, ‘s been doin’ to me.

Am I feeling good to you, are you’re feelin’ good to me; do be.

Raw, raw, raw.  Data, raw data, raw nerves.  Gout pain.  insurance.  un-insurance.  “Stuck in the middle with you.   Trying to make sense of it all but I can see there’s no sense at all”

Cold slab of glass, lay me down, Mustang Sally.  Rhythm with blues.  Funky heartbeats fibrillating.   A-fib.  A-FIB!!  A-fib!  A-Fib!!  JT eases my mind for a lonely times and sister golden surprises me WITH  my mother Mary ‘s kindnesses.

Slowly pain slo.slo.slo. loosens.   The void un-forms.  Grips loosen.  Dark phosphenes come bright.

Was four A.M.  10:52.

—   —   —

i don’t know what those words ‘mean’.  In the formless void before Genesis; I existed.  All WAS.  And now I can see.  I AM.  Is that ‘poetry”?  Stream-of-consciousness?  Whatever it is; it IS.  What it is, it is me.  Music saves me every day.



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