->Words tasted from this must-have album . . . <-
Reuben has a cute tattoo of a mermaid on his back. He walks to the beach because she likes to hear the ocean’s song. There’s a speck of light way out at sea. She says, “Take me there, it’ll be just you and me.” When they find him the next day floating in the shadows, his tattoo is gone and the mermaid is free.
She says she’s feeling woozy when she opens her eyes. Sometime’s knocking at the cubicle door. I used to regret stuff, I don’t anymore. There’s fresh blood on the crown of thorns. The gigs all over and the feedback’s gone.
One night she met the devil on a windy mountain road. There was a single star trembling in a lavender sky. And like two melancholy lovers they walked to where the street lights end. She held him in her arms and he started to cry. She kissed his eyelids closed and wiped away his tears. She knew how much he loved her ‘cause he wrote it in dust on a star. He lit a fire in her that no god could douse. The heat whispered in her ear was tender like summer wind in grass.
->I intrude. Interlude. Little short stories wrapped in ribbon as poems. These folks are living for the purpose of enriching our lives with imagery that smiles deep in the roots that seldom break through the earth unless there is a flood. <-
I got your photo up on the mantelpiece among the childhoods- yours and mine. Me and my ventriloquist dummy, we talk about you all the time.
I’m drunk on altar wine. There’s room for one more soul in hell. She was tugging at her hemline as she walked into the bar. I picked up this lawyer’s wife, bought her mousaka and a rose. I took a long pull on my flask. There’s no forgiveness, so I won’t even ask.
I asked the lady doctor to invite me ‘round her place so I could lick off the anti-aging cream she rubs into her face.
->I intrude. Apologize. I’m smiling at the humor, laughing out loud from time to time, and forced to not type it all because I can’t keep up and my laughter hides some words. There’s a force here you’ll only hear by visiting on your own. <-
I bought a rose from the guy at the traffic lights, only for the thorn. I pressed it as hard as I could into my palm, as I rode across town to your place. A church bell rings like it’s just going through the motions.
I’m on a frosty bench with the obituaries as the heart of a ghost is beating in me. A woman sits down at the other end. I said, “Move along lady, I don’t need a new friend.” “You’re such a prick,” she says. And I know what she means.
There’s a song in my head. Something ancient by some one-hit wonder. I find a bench in park and feed the pigeons a stale cheeseburger. I stop and listen to a burgomeister shouting hallelujah. Man, you should have heard her. The skies the color of a milkshake and the hip-flask in my hand ran out an hour ago.
->I intrude. Explain. My laughter is pure joy simply because my brain is enthralled at the sheer intelligence I am listening to. There is life here that is not humor but truth. And this brings deep joy to my heart while tears flow from my eyes. <-
There’s no way back to a safe place. I’m twirling in deep space, alone. Like the song said, there’s no direction home. So I kill some time in a secondhand bookstore run by this albino guy with ahead shaped liked a Halloween pumpkin. I stand at the window watching the wind rolling a coke can.
I stay till she falls asleep. Play some solitaire while watching the moonlight play across her ass. The last Barcardi she poured growing stale in the glass. Don’t pay me no heed. Broken hearted is my default mode. Her kid’s comic book lies open close by where she lies.
When you came in the door the draft from the past blew out my candle. So you found God at last. Don’t play much poker no more. And you smiled and said, “I’m fine.”
->I intrude. Attention. There’s much more to this album than you’re reading here. The music is important. The musicians tempt the words, enhance the words, challenge the words. They are important to the success of this beautiful work.
I say without any hesitation that if you do not experience this album that you have not experienced 2008. Allow yourself to be moved – alone. Even in the small crowd of instruments the singer is alone, and best heard alone.<-
I pity all those without wings, may God have mercy on their souls.
When he’s done she stands staring up at the stars wondering at the point of it all.
As he locks up and steps out into the dark, the night breaks out into a round of applause.
I tell you kid, it’s tough. Best you don’t ever grow up.
Now I don’t mean to pretend we meant that much in the end, but when the stars shine down on me, I’m glad they’re shining down on you too.
I walk the paths of righteousness, it just gets on your nerves.
It's only disappointment keeps me holed up in this room. But hell, I swam in disappointment inside my mother's womb. Won't you drive me up the mountain and just let my wheelchair roll?
->All poems quoted above were written by Lyndon Morgans<-
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