paragon

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DAVY CROCKETT REINCARNATED

ROOMS WITH A RATTLESNAKE

by Cloyd Campfire 2002

~

The desert was a-crunch with distance & thorny miracles when Davy Crockett Reincarnated unintentionally sunk his wheels into a dry wash.

Next, he went a-drift looking for any tools nature might provide & cracked his head in a deep hole. Dazed, he built a roof on the hole & now had his very own kiva & a new home – alleluia!

A new stage in his life had begun.

All the critters on that particular slope some months ago had dug-up themselves a leader – the desert squirrel, Yahtzee. Yahtzee declared peace & nobody ate anybody else anymore & low n’ behold, manna had been falling from the crystalline sky ever since.

This particular slope of rocky ravines & colorful views, for Crockett, was heaven ~ but then a rattlesnake full of hell dropped down into his earthical room & declared the both of them to be ~

Roommates.

The snake, whose name was Paragon, was a fair-minded roomie, but told Davy he’d spent some time in the pen & warned him that he, Paragon, wasn’t past biting someone’s eyes out in the middle of the night if crossed.

I got a real nice critter on my hands, sardonically mused Davy to himself & turned over to go to sleep.

But over in the lower corner, scaly Paragon wouldn’t stop rattling. He couldn’t help it. His tail had emphysema, which, in denial, he referred to as “bronchitis”. Incidentally, Paragon was also being tested for diabetes & ate 10 tons of sugar every night. But that’s beside the point we’re trying to get at here.

Later as Davy was dozing off, suddenly, Paragon was standing on the tip of his rattler & towering over him, declaring, “Democracy doesn’t work!”

Roused, Davy hollered, “Get out of my face! I’m trying to sleep!”

Bitterly, Paragon stalked back to the lower corner and continued to thunderously rattle thru the nocturnal hours.

As the world turned & the desert whispered its endless beatitudes, Paragon informed Davy, & re-informed him day after day, that just about all the other critters around weren’t doing their duties & were constantly brown-nosing Yahtzee, while he, Paragon, was the only one who was worth a 10-dollar blanket. “And there’s gonna be race wars in this country before you and I are dead!” he added one evening.

Paragon didn’t approve of Davy’s ways either, & continuously whittled away at him too. One afternoon when they were both sneaking a quick nap after a bite of manna, for example, Paragon whittled, “I doubt you can work a full day.”

Davy winced and quoted, “Our doubts are traitors and makes us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.”

“What?” hissed the snake.

“That’s a quote from Measure For Measure by Shakespeare,” grinned Davy.

“And I’m an elf owl’s uncle,” spat Paragon. His venom soaked into the earthen floor as he slithered up the ladder, disappeared in the blazing light outside and went back to work.

After several weeks, the fortress walls of Crockett’s peace of mind were completely whittled down, & all the eternal frontiersman could think about was how hard it was not to hate his roomie, the incorrigible rattlesnake who possessed, it seemed, a colossus contempt for all critters other than himself.

Then, one morning Davy burned the beans. “Oops,” he muttered, exhausted after another night of electric jolts in his head caused by Paragon’s miserable rattle.

“Everything you do is wrong,” hissed the snake.

“And everything you do is right, so who cares?” groaned Davy. He stirred the mess in the pot & thought & finally aimed & shot, “You know, Paragon, when a critter believes he’s better than everybody else around him, I’d say that makes him the most low-down of all.”

Paragon blinked once or twice after Crockett’s sly remark, & quit talking. For several weeks the snake didn’t say a word. Whenever he was in the Kiva, all he did was read. Which Crockett soon got used to & before long, he no longer hated Paragon. In fact, he was growing kind of fond of his scaly roommate who was always crawling around on his belly here, there and everywhere.

But something was brewing inside Paragon’s reptile head. And finally to Davy he said, “The difference between me and most everybody else around here is ~ I got integrity.” With that said, Paragon sprang out of the kiva that pretty red sky morning & complained to Yahtzee, the wise desert squirrel, about everything & everybody, & even threatened a couple coyotes, & came back & started packing his bags. He’d just gotten himself kicked out of the community.

Of course, there’s a moral to this tale ~ a little piece of wisdom that you can apply to your own stay in the transitional zone of Veterans Campus. And that moral is: if you don’t like the roommate you got now, don’t worry. Be happy. You’ll get along just fine, sooner or later, like Davy Crockett & Paragon did ~ Paragon, that poor old rattlesnake with the negative aura so thick around him that it was downright impossible for him to see through it.

“Paragon was hard-working & honest tho’,” added Davy, sitting cross-legged in his kiva & sipping coffee ~ as a few days later, yours truly was interviewing him.  Davy sat there quietly for a long moment.  Finally he concluded, “And, believe it or don’t, that rattlesnake did have some integrity.”

Text Copyright Clyde Collins 2002

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happy easter

~

God this, God that, God everything & damn it too

the end of reality’s trail & everything else that’s true

the last frontier of hard facts and how-do-you-do’s

I stood on a hill in deep desert & all I had was ‘de blues

~

Find yourself a woman, lad, and work for a living too

make sure she’s a good woman who will always stand by you

raise some kids or corn and ply your trade on the avenue

or you’ll end up standing amongst the cacti with nothing else to do

~

I stood there hard and long concentrating on every thorn

but no angel arrived blowing music on a golden horn

all was quiet but a little wind, no birds, just some ants

crawlin’ around aimlessly lookin’ for someone with whom to dance

~

I trudged back to the truck, crunching the desert turf along the way

opened the doors to the book-store in the rear without much to say

figured I’d sell a book or two if a miracle happened to stray

but there was nobody around but me on this fine lonely day

~

Nobody but a million catatonic cacti with not much to offer but a thorn

stretching off into the distance come evening and come morn

I sat in the wind & the blood of my brain ~ t’was a mournful song

and then, and then, suddenly, a rabbit come lopin’ along

~

T’was the biggest I’d ever seen, about the size of a dog

a jack rabbit who fit no-ways in any kind of catologue

he wasn’t at all shy like other rabbits in other scenes

when he stopped & asked me, “Have you got any books on human beings?”

~

Stunned, I replied, “I have books on coyotes and snakes

cacti, deserts, rivers, God and whatever it takes

to get along with anything including killer bees

but, but all I have on human beings are fantasies”

~

The rabbit sadly bowed his head, loped away and disappeared

I said to a fly buzzing around my hat, “that was really weird”

closed up the store, bent low to tie one of my worn-out shoes

climbed behind the wheel, bumped on outta them deep desert blues…

~

from the out-of-print book

A Love Song To The American Lizard

by Rawclyde!

alias 

Elvis Bojangles

(Copyright Clyde Collins 1999)

~

Madam Beloved’s

shrine

http://spiritdameshrine.yolasite.com

~

kiss of democracy theatre

The Living Legend Of

Jesusita & Padre Gallegos

by Cloyd Campfire

~
El padre of 
La Villa de 
Albuquerque  
~
Padre Gallegos 
was he 
 was he  
 ~
Jesusita 
mucha bonita 
widowed & free 
 ~
House-keeper 
of Padre Gallegos 
was she, was she  
~
Together they lived 
in thee adobe 
labyrinthine rectory 
 ~
And together 
they lived happy 
& comfortably 
 ~
Isolated & 
surrounded by 
wild hostility  
 ~
Was the humble 
a-crumble New Mexico 
community 
~
For 
hundreds 
of years  
~
There were 
only 
folk cures 
~
When Jesusita 
took a 
spoonful of one 
~
She become beautiful 
forever like the 
rising & setting sun  
~
She never cried 
she never died 
now she do abide 
~
In the world of 
today ~ el diablo’s 
delectable bride  
~
Padre Gallegos 
like everyone else 
sooner or later died 
~
Padre Gallegos though 
his soul wouldn’t go 
to el grande other side
~
Now 
he’s 
a ghost 
~
Still 
serving 
The Host 
~
But most 
of all 
he haunts the trail  
 ~
Of the eternal beauty 
whom he loves 
   Jesusita his holy grail…

~

staring Richard Burton & Raquel Welch

(text copyright Clyde Collins 2017)

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http://crockettreincarnated.yolasite.com/the-kiss-of-democracy.php

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