"a little pain in my heart, just won't let me sleep, where can my baby be, oh lord, where can she be...."
Otis Redding is the most beautiful man in the world. The honest of his voice, the pain, the sorrow felt for all the men who can't sing it....not pretty, like a girls in the magazines, but beautiful. Tragically beautiful, Like a woman you were with last night or an hour ago.
I don't always know where to start, today, or any day for that matter. I remember a few things. I remember footsteps and white walls, alarm clocks and crosses. I remember the sun sets and the moon springs to life suddenly. Last time I counted, there were at least 6,776 stars, but my calculations aren't perfect.
I am surrounded by these books. Books, that if I read, will make for good conversation and sociology papers....The all have titles and these cute rhythmic subtitle.....A rainbow of gangs, street cultures in the mega-city......Age of Propaganda, the everyday use and abuse of persuasion....Criminal justice, confronting the prison crisis.....Cocaine politics- drugs, armies, and the CIA in central America.................I remember reading my first book. I just wrote a poem on it, actually. I remember it like a junky remembers the first bend of a spoon, the first spike. The outsiders......what a fucking book.
"I'm Bad.....like James Jesse"
This morning, smoking a cigarette, listening to old Johnny lee, I now have 15 dollars and two packs of smokes and this song just hits the spot after a night of no sleep, tossing and turning hell, burning eyelids, I said look man to my bed... I'm gonna warn you , just one time, next time I warn you, I'm gonna use my gun, cause I'm mad.....I'm bad....like Jesse Fucking James.
I'm gonna run you this morning.
(I hope you aren't looking for a point in these lines)
Otis Redding is the most beautiful man in the world. The honest of his voice, the pain, the sorrow felt for all the men who can't sing it....not pretty, like a girls in the magazines, but beautiful. Tragically beautiful, Like a woman you were with last night or an hour ago.
I don't always know where to start, today, or any day for that matter. I remember a few things. I remember footsteps and white walls, alarm clocks and crosses. I remember the sun sets and the moon springs to life suddenly. Last time I counted, there were at least 6,776 stars, but my calculations aren't perfect.
I am surrounded by these books. Books, that if I read, will make for good conversation and sociology papers....The all have titles and these cute rhythmic subtitle.....A rainbow of gangs, street cultures in the mega-city......Age of Propaganda, the everyday use and abuse of persuasion....Criminal justice, confronting the prison crisis.....Cocaine politics- drugs, armies, and the CIA in central America.................I remember reading my first book. I just wrote a poem on it, actually. I remember it like a junky remembers the first bend of a spoon, the first spike. The outsiders......what a fucking book.
"I'm Bad.....like James Jesse"
This morning, smoking a cigarette, listening to old Johnny lee, I now have 15 dollars and two packs of smokes and this song just hits the spot after a night of no sleep, tossing and turning hell, burning eyelids, I said look man to my bed... I'm gonna warn you , just one time, next time I warn you, I'm gonna use my gun, cause I'm mad.....I'm bad....like Jesse Fucking James.
I'm gonna run you this morning.
(I hope you aren't looking for a point in these lines)
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
nice to semi sort of psuedo meet another pisces.
but maybe rich.