Interlude of a blues mood

Interludes of a blues mood

rolling numerical boxes of prophecy in the shape of bones to the wherewithal of fate synchpated within tones.....got dribbles of drunken blues trickling back of throat......and sculptures of romantic interlude writing what was wrote......my desert is parched...and I got tha attributes of texan stones with which to impart........Got down home jazz melodies dropping the hammer to the anvil of my anxieties....

My eyes look up only to see the pirrouettes of ghosts doing two steps to the foreplay of my broken down jig.......and a crowd back lit with shadows watches........silent in their accusation...demonstrative in their appreciation.........Flood lights lighting the lit paranoa of their barely restrained sarcasm and pent up irony......

When did the rhoulette of my undying fetters spin the amalgam of my breath rasping death throes to the determination of uncharacteristic by-blows of sought after moral dilemmas....? Was it during the sweating toss turning of rumpled sheets on the night the grins of a desolute man asked me for the fabric of my heart, the crumpling gratitude of my deterioating spirit....? Or was it the insipid sacrificial conundrum of the last love I clung to tossing a child from forsaken womb? When did the honorific borderline schitzophrenic decline begin it's rope'a'dope last round round up?

I mosey in chaps and low slung holsters down dark alleys and paint a smile hovels with hot iron playing across fingertips.........I tilt hat to shaded flickers of forget me not looks as my sight pierces the moments of memory and the latitude of longitude rolling the crosshairs of my upside down existence....

I hear their footsteps echoing distantly down corridors ever revolving around the corpse I call a shell that still hasn't realized it's own demise and keeps puppeting itself with the delusional certainies of a life well lived.....lies are the meat of a story's bi line......yet some part of me...some say the self immolating self incriminating border line bi-polar drop a hat in the lunar dance of lucidity brought to a new low part...but still a part....sends staccato rays of hope to a midnight world where the crumbs of such are few and far between the cracks of the asphalt hump riding our dreams.....slipping between the divides of good people's, derelict in their dust the scarlett off their pimpernickle duties, haunt hides in the seams of division bullet hopping visions....and still another part believes in the thirty eight cracker draws this flesh has peeled through the star fucked calander of years will still insert phallic limbs into the orifice of love's cherubic mentored into the cremate go on a date lute driven archaic stage play of film noir black and white shade gray despot rerun of Bonnie and Clyde romantic fun....one can say much luck would have to cluster fuck the happening.....but can and could sha bang bang the realization of such profound and unsought after climactic interludes......or should I say always sought after forever deluded disappointed hum drum of humanity calvalcades of fruitless yearning...

I shake the cobwebs off the howls I send bouncing truths into the night......gather my knees under me after the fall I failed to notice....and straighten my stride into the deepening of the long eve......in the end.....it's all a crap shoot......a drive by the night in a tailored suit pulling jokers where there should be aces...jacks instead of queens....... and tumble my stumble and leap into the canyon free for all....I got my iron spraying lead aspirations into the gaping maw of fear......my wings unfurled....my throat heavy with song.......eyes nailed to the coffins of could of beens.....should of beens......and into the narcisistic Dante Nostradamus pit I smile......this is what it's all about.....facing whatever comes with a grin shit pasting the worn lines and scars you call a mug............bring it........spit some blood...a tooth..a fucking limb to the wails of hubris...I have seen everything you got to throw....breathed it, lived it....soiled it....so come on already, I'm getting bored......I'll be your huckleberry......say when...........

Humanity is a choice....one dwindling in the road we choose

Poem by JD Glasscock

The world aches for the upturning of a smile...for letters of love to be etched in the moral conundrum of humanity......let the vacuoss pit carved lepers of corporate narcisistic self stroking take a step back...a breath...and see the utter immolating weave of philament they thread through the actions they spit upon the spinning mud of our existence...the children huddled in rags uttering whispers for warmth...weeping...the mothers teaching hopeless identity of give up on your dreams mentality....upon the hard asphalt of trickle down theory...the downfall spiral in the healing of holsitic prayer....wake up....join the the scope of family...that we all...live and shoot blood thru veins to the pursuant inclination of gentle bliss....that we all hunger for the embrace of love......for the soft feel of a savior's kiss

Cherubic Eros in Phallic Repose

Poem by JD Glasscock

Lucid is the echos of a lover, poet, lost in ethers, in the barbed arrow of Eros's phallic prayer, lust, of romantic interlude..my kiss has been held in the repose of fornicating bliss..for a woman in apocalyptic frenzy to unleash it's savory taste into the hunger of undulating flesh..cherubic want...for her legs to twine around my hips and push memories to forgotten mists , to fuck my oblivion into a hunger hungering to be quenched

Walking in the closet of dreams

Lyrics by JD Glasscock

A little boy sittin in his bed

saying goodnight to his mom and his dad

thinking of the things he knew he could do

on morrow's day when everything was new

But before he cast his fly into sleep

before his eyes slip into the tides

he scours the shadows where monsters hide

God's of watery dreams

But before his eyes fall into the sand

a nightmare emerges in the form of a man

a flowing specter to haunt a mind

to creep forth grins and crack the bell of time

Black bowler hats & cracked wicked teeth

evil thoughts & jangling jackets of tweed

walking in the closet of dreams

Feet fall closer, shufflin in

the touch of his breath, the depth of his sin

walking in the closet of dreams

Split eyes of flame, skin of a snake

may we die before we wake

the promise of a lie is what we'll take

walking in the closet of dreams

but before we cast our fly into sleep

before our eyes slip into the tides

we scour the shadows where monsters hide

gods of watery dreams

but before our eyes fall into the sand

a nightmare emerges in the form of a man

a flowing specter to haunt our mind

to creep forth grins & crack the bell of time

black bowler hats & cracked wicked teeth

evil thoughts & jangling jackets of tweed

walking in the closet of dreams

feet fall closer, shufflin in

the touch of his breath, the depth of his sin

walking in the closet of dreams

split eyes of flame, skin of a snake

may we die before we wake

the promise of a lie is what we'll take

walking in the closet of dreams

walking in the closet of dreams

walking in the closet of dreams

walking in the closet of dreams