miracle

trilling miracle on a draaaannnkkk break (u-tube)

~

one voice

sung by the wailin’ jennys

~

this is the sound of one voice

one spirit, one voice

the sound of one who makes a choice

this is the sound of one voice

~

this is the sound of voices two

the sound of me singing with you

helping each other to make it through

this is the sound of voices two…

~

this is the sound of voices three

singing together in harmony

surrendering to the mystery

this is the sound of voices three

~

this is the sound of all of us

singing with love and the will to trust

leave the rest behind it will turn to dust

this is the sound of all of us

~

this is the sound of one voice

one people, one voice

a song for every one of us

this is the sound of one voice

~

editor elvis bojangles

~

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Madam Beloved

from elvis bojangles

~

i am gonna praise ye ’til i am no’ mo’

every inch o’ yer mind body & so’

tho’ ye already tell me up n’ go

ye still be meeeeeee supreme sisbo’

~

~

I be beside you while you plow

I hold the pail when you milk the cow

the coyote on the hill that how’

is me spirit lovin’ ye’ somehow

~

~

the 13-year-old with the 22 rifle

ain’t shooting anymo’ dove

trilling above

’cause it be you he love

~

~

n’ ye old man is praying & staying

under the radar all night long

cause he a ding dong dat belong

to she who so long ago say sooooooo-long

~

~

i am gonna praise ye ’til i am no’ mo’

every inch o’ yer mind body & so’

tho’ ye already tell me up n’ go

ye still be these grounds’ supreme sisbo’

~

~

model

http://www.renaraqsfitness.com

photos

http://www.kimste.com

text copyright clyde collins 2016

http://spiritdameshrine.yolasite.com/Living-Tabernacle-of-Divine-Light.php

~

christmas colosseum

oh captain

my captain

!

ye walk on water

& dig in the mud

any miraculous singular

instant

you are

so with me

in the desert night

you are so

My Madam Beloved

!

your creepy blade

so poetry stained & sharp

your wicked point

so joyously received

your soul

so in flight

hot dame blood

forging

thru your veins

merry christmas

from elvis bojangles

~

art by

clyde caldwell

https://clydecaldwell.com

&

albrecht durer

http://www.albrecht-durer.org

~

text copyright clyde collins 2016

http://www.roadmood.com

~

el vaquero

~

1980

~

by Rawclyde!

alias Elvis Bojangles

~

~ Part One ~

 ~

I was ridin’

my mule

stalking

the great horned toad

~

Wondering

am I

Brother Eternity or

Dead End Road

~

Fightin’ off

the heat

&

a hungry vulture

~

Across

the insurmountable desert

of a

single man’s culture

~

I was pouring sand

out of my canteen

when

thee ol’ mule died

~

As I walked away

from

the poor dead thing

I almost cried

~

My

feet

kept

  stallin’

~

Pretty soon

I

was

  crawlin’

~

‘Til I was at

the edge

of a wide deep hole

  in the ground

~

N’ you won’t believe

what

I saw

  when I looked down

~

Way

down

down

  down there

~

I saw a Cyclops’s brain

without a skull

or

 hair

~

Bloody

& glowing

& big as a

 hotel

~

It

beckoned

to me & suddenly

I fell

~

Had a funny feeling

I was fallin’

into

hell

~

Had a funny feeling

I’d be

gone

 for a spell

~

Prayed a quick prayer

that was

quick

as a shot

~

The brain gulped

n’

now this boy is

   food for thought…

  ~

~ Part Two ~

 ~

After

I was swallowed up

by the

    prehistoric brain

~

I kept on fallin’

like a

drop

 of rain

~

Fell thru fleecy clouds

that

like scholars

 quoted many a book

~

Fell into

the middle of a city

that had

 a haunted look

~

When you are food

for thought

you grow light like

dust

~

So

when

I hit the street

I didn’t bust

~

I just stood there

n’ gawked

at the haunted city

 around me

~

N’

 let

it

 be

~

The buildings were not

built

of brick

 or steel or wood

~

But they

were

built

good

~

Out

of

experiences

  long gone

~

Like dancing

below the border

’til

 dawn

~

Or driving across

a vast country

in an

old slow truck

~

N’

occasionally

getting

 stuck

~

Or working a job

day

after

day

~

For

less

than

  fair pay

~

Then

with

  nothin’

 to say

~

Qwitting

in

a

     spectacular way

~

For

ye olde

whore

 called Glory

~

Or

writing

a

 story

~

Yeeeeeeeap

experiences long gone

these

haunted buildings were

~

Inside a brain

that was

crazy

for sure

~

There were

beautiful woman

daydreams

   walking all over the place

~

Each one

a slice of heaven

begging to

sit on my face

~

The prettiest

sat at a bus stop

looking in her purse

for a dollar

~

Her breasts were

peek-a-boo secrets

under a

very unbuttoned collar

~

She crossed

her soul smokin’

legs

lifted one somewhat high

~

Panty flash

blinded

my

eye

~

Her dress

slipped

up

 her thigh

~

She

looked

up

  n’ said “Hi”

~

I could tell

she was looking

for

 somebody to meet

~

So I tripped

on the curb &

fell

   at her feet

~

Attempted to lick

her delectable leg

nothing was there

 but air

~

She was only

a daydream

there was nothin’

to share

~

I

groped

about

  town

~

Feelin’

kind

a

 down

~

Started back alley’

driftin’

thru this haunted city in

  a mind

~

A city

nailed together

by experiences

   of every kind

~

Like

discovering in

a tree a

 circular branch

~

Or

working

on

 a ranch

~

Or

going

nuts

  in a jail

~

Or

around each corner

learning to

 gracefully fail

~

Yeeeeeeeap

I was back alley

driftin’

in somebody’s brain

~

When I spied a

little girl

with her ankle

 locked to a chain

~

An ordinary little girl

quiet as

a

 mouse

~

On top o’

the

tallest

house

~

That’s

where

she

sat

~

Sadder than

a cowboy

without

 a cowboy hat

~

I climbed the stairs

asked her

what her name

might be

~

She said, “My

name

is The Peace And Comfort

    Of Reality”

~

She had

freckles on

her face

 & knobby knees

~

Her hair

was

full

 of fleas

~

Her eyes were

blue

like a

 teeter tottering prayer

~

My heart almost

exploded as

I looked at her I

  swear

~

N’ the next

thing

she

 had to say

~

Was “Pleeeeeeease

take

me

   away”

~

So I leaned over n’

the chain on her ankle

I was

    about to break

~

When the clouds above went

crazy

quoting books for

   a soul’s sake

~

Quoted so many

so loud

all the buildings

 began to shake

~

N’ all the

pretty daydreams

below

 began to make

~

So much noise howlin’

they seemed to be

witches

burnin’ at the stake

~

N’ I half expected

the chain in my hand

to turn into

    a snake

~

N’ across the desert

on

top

   o’ the sky

~

Where the sun

is fierce

& the

    humor is dry

~

There appeared on

a mule

a vaquero

 ridin’ by

~

Oh

my

oh

  my

~

His craftsmanship in

the saddle

made me

 look like a fool

~

He was the

parable

of parables

    so God awful cool

~

The chain in

my hand turned

cold

like ice

~

N’ before

I

could

  think twice

~

Like a

crack

of lightning above

 a plastered lake

~

El Vaquero said

“Don’t”

so I didn’t

   n’ now I’m awake…

 ~ 

~ Part Three ~

 ~

Yeah

now

I’m

   awake

~

Sittin’ at thee ol’

dream table

trying

   not to shake

~

It’s 4 o’clock in

the morning

the sun

 will be here soon

~

I must have dozed

off

dreaming

    yesterday afternoon

~

Of course the brain

I’ve

been walking in is

 my own

~

It makes me

kinda sad

seeing how it’s

grown

~

Such a haunted

home

for The Peace And

    Comfort Of

~

Jesus please

help me

learn

    how to love…

~

~

art

frederic remington

& albrecht durer

text

copyright clyde collins 1980 2016

~