Sammy Bones

Deep Groves

Poem by jd glasscock

counting moments...slips of tongue arcing breath.....trying to carve my way to discernment.. truth over flesh.........do any of the masks spinning love around my frame actually hold to this as hard edges....sincerity in the hip pockets of their cast lines....or is it all frail and broken carnival frivolities to pass the... ticking of second hands....what do you believe when duplicity seems to be the road to everything...Hope and gutter swell prayers in the curves they double dutch shuffle in the side periphery of my lone moon haunts is what sustains the theatrics of my belly crawl through the crumbled ruins of this archaic arch I find within the dazed hazed stumble I call life.....yet still....doubt knaws my chewed over bones......my ears tentative to the high ... stroke timbre of a lie playing hip holster to their verbage.....to their limbs in manic sultry shape......to the patterns of past mistakes......

It's why i do the bi-polar shake bake to the jump cliff huddle down hollow hill to craggy forest junk heap in the seconds it takes to chest heave deep.....it's why in every footfall that places me closer to the sweat of our skin enmeshed in sin I backflip ten feet to shutter curtains between our heat.....it's why every door ghost creaked open to the placement of articulate fingers upon the thumps of blood....I feel the deer in headlight adrenalin game of push and shove.....it's why lonely hermitage with wailing howls to the beat up harp blues is sometimes an easier road to rule.......easier then the bullseye paint stamp the possibility of intimacy trumps within me.......yet still my pit toss bones in the prescient weave of silk that has laid it's palbability upon the fork tongue adder lisp of my fate leaves me little choice in the cemetery willow that has sung my lullaby since my momma's womb spat me to back alley streets and said goodbye.. For in the storybook sigh that has followed all the passing of sun to shade in the drown boogie jazz horned skip step of my solitary transit

there has always been the empty symbolistic runed hallow hollow that should be a woman's silhouette.....and no matter the shark teeth grunt pull of my every whim and limb straining against the cosmic pre written loom spun novel of my down trodden hovel...in the end.......my flesh will form to bend...it is inevitable....inevitable as death calling me it's own.....of taking me to the endless dark of the deep grove....

Skip talk and ghost walks

poem by jd glasscock

Traversing the skipping rocks of the rippling ponds of reality etched in child chalk...ghost talk.....haunts that carve pictographs in the back shot look of tumultous pasts......you would of thought the bruises would of faded from childhood symbology...would of been fulfilled with the scars they drew...but the bruises are still vivid blue.....

Fireside Backdrops in Gray Skies Singing Lullabies

poem by jd glasscock

Sometimes men in trenchcoats Oliver Twist my emotions....leave empty shells in hollow caves in their place.......it is in these moments I find myself frigid, an inarticulate puppet to vast empty plains.....void of all semblance of heart and hope...counting flips of coins defaced of all runic symbols...blank and meaningless against a sky gray and listless....and in these blinks of time spanning breath...I wonder where my spirit has come to rest...laid it's open grave in the vast cosmos from which it gave life to the limbs carousing flesh to the lupine movement of my once sun emblazoned atonement....and the ticks beat out low humming frailties to the melody of my furtive lapse in emotive elucidations.....it's a good thing my holster creases leather to air asking for pistols in cold iron expression........the smoke drifting to a sorrowful dirge.......I long to some day lick the flames of what I once knew....long to fuck the vorasciousness of hunger that used to grind my hips.....used to fly winged from my lips........my eyes hammer anvils to the long fall of a forever dream....and it is in waking worlds I story drop the cliff edge of a fable seeking corner street tables to set the label of truth in a beggar's song.....her fuck me walk used to be the chalk I would inscribe the elements of streets into the belief of better places after falling faces lingering traces of nectar in the teeth of my cock engorged in the bouncing wishes of a better life...and now all that drumbeats my ears are the foghorns of a shipwrecked sea.....no longer her breasts heaving breath caterwhauling the inspiration to believe......tumbleweeds roll along dustbowl lullabies.....it is long past the time I should of said goodbye

Waiting out the sun

Lyrics by JD Glasscock

Have you ever felt

The road you walk

Is a story told in

Children talk

Where wide eyed innocense

Is a weave you want

To hold through all

The streets

All the days

And the beats

Of a heart

Too bruised

Too tired

In the endless spire

Of wanting to aspire

To the beauty of

A forever melody

Tomorrow is the sun

When everything is done

When we wake to dream

The dreams we've dreamed

Have you ever felt the ache

Of bones and the fading tones

And the shaking nights

Where everything seems so cold

Where alone is a shrine

To the blues and truths

Of hard won days

And the wisdom of fools

Where gentle touch seems as

Far away as the drug addict rush

In the back drop of a lover's eyes

Where everything spins more lies

The harder you struggle

The harder you try

But even in these dog summer tides

It's hope's inspirational ride

That gives you warmth and

The comfort of better times

Inspires you to find

The smiles that hide inside

Tomorrow is the sun

When everything is done

When we wake to dream

The dreams we've dreamed

Have you ever felt the soft kiss

Of a true love's tryst

Feel their lips -- sweat and twist

And grind against the hips

Of destiny

When all seems a serenity of serendipity and the river of life

Has spun you to it's shores

When waiting out the sun has won

the truth of belief and faith

The saunter down rodeo of love and fate

When all you've ever wished

Is a gift to pillow you to bliss

And the sands of sleep

No longer a want to weep

Tomorrow is the sun

When everything is done

And we wake to dream

The dreams we've dreamed

Tomorrow is the sun

When everything is done

And we wake to dream

The dreams we've dreamed

Wake to dream

The dreams we've dreamed

The dreams we've dreamed

The prayers we've prayed

The wishes we've weaved

Sammy Bones

Lyrics by jd glasscock

Sammy Bones was born on the night of a half-moon

at the door of an orphanage

to a young girl with a story of needles

and black and blue daddy dreams

Her life was the price to deliver her boy into the mud

her last exhale his name and from her failing hands

a beat up old harmonica

Sammy Bones grew up on the coined streets

of a shadow's wail blowing blues to

jacked up cartoons of alley cats

and junkies with begging hats

He could of been a good kid in a different world

with different sins

could of been a movie star

on the hard earned avenues of show doll cars

But these fantasies didn't spell reality

for his back woods dust trails

He was Sammy Bones

the black and blue half moon

teller of tales

At his first steps he learned

how to make bets

about the outcome

of people's dreams

looking to be jet set

They fall.....always fall

scattered along the stars

of a melancholy wind

while Sammy Bones smiles

flipping his finger to fate

and blowing a deep dark tune

on a beat up harp

to the trembling of divinity

a half moon in his eyes

and a grin shooting needles

to the downtrodden gatherers of hope

Sammy Bones grew up on the coined streets

of a shadow's wail blowing blues to

jacked up cartoons of alley cats

and junkies with begging hats

He could of been a good kid in a different world

with different sins

could of been a movie star

on the hard earned avenues of show doll cars

But these fantasies didn't spell reality

for his back woods dust trails

He was Sammy Bones

the black and blue half moon

teller of tales

His flesh grasped a man's limbs

rolling rackets along seedy corners

pulling green from the sky

watching limos and starlets drive by

Bones dropped from his eyes

tricking luck with grease monkied lies

as his name became legend on the block

They said Sammy Bones is gonna roll

this town with golden tickets to wherever

he is bound but he ain't gonna live long

no he ain't gonna live long

tick tock, tick tock.

He took his shots with a cracker jack pistol

and lifted his feet to red carpet streets

leaving a broken trail of dreams

He became a mover and a shaker

a half moon myth of bones and mist

with brothels and smoke jazzed taverns

as his front stores for heroin fables

and fantasy room labels

and porn star movie makers

He became the legend the roll calls of destiny

had woven for him yet still his heart heaved

melancholy dreams

and tears etched themselves in the songs

he blew into the night

Sammy Bones grew up on the coined streets

of a shadow's wail blowing blues to

jacked up cartoons of alley cats

and junkies with begging hats

He could of been a good kid in a different world

with different sins

could of been a movie star

on the hard earned avenues of show doll cars

But these fantasies didn't spell reality

for his back woods dust trails

He was Sammy Bones

the black and blue half moon

teller of tales

On a midnight stroll with the skies

slitted gray..and the alleys

howling against the heavy falling rain

Sammy Bones was shot twice

once in the heart

and once in the head

by a jacked up junkie

wanting what a legend had

And the world wailed against the fabric of a half moon

for a black and blue daddy dream that left the world

way too soon but as Sammy walked the last golden

bricked road of a forever trail he woke to the truth

of his heart spelling hope in the runes of his unfinished tale

Love is the story he most hungered to feel

so much so he wished he could hit rewind and rerun the reel

to give gifts of petals to broken down junkies

instead of craker jack pistols to money driven flunkies

For that was the dream his mama had wished

for her only boy he knew

yet he had instead chosen to fall...chosen to fall

His screams echoed against the dwindling world and his bones rattled

serendipity to the cascade of sand falling through open eyes

They say you can still hear Sammy Bones blowing half moon kisses through beaten up harps in the back alleys of dreams on quiet nights

in the deep shadows of streets

Poem by JD Glasscock

I stop landslides, spin dreams, spit weaves upon asphalt seams. I twist words into make believe and stream them into consciousness in a trick without sleeves.....One day soon the world with open eyes will derive and slide and connive cracked ticket stubs to see my tipsy turvy drive by, horror queen scream of what was fated to be........and then all will have woken to the sleep I have weeped and the coins dipping in fingers as i knuckle draw two jokers and one jack to the rain of revelation and ennui....buy your ride and kick back to the cozy upturned sounds of inevitability...it is history you see,?, just not seen until tomorrow births your yesterday.....Glasscock stage play woven in beginning crayon drawn caves......oh behave!, behave yourself, there's plenty of room.