Ranch Poem – “This way, That way”

2/10/07

This way, That way

I see the way when I close my eyes.
That red, blue, and green starry sky.
A search for life’s bounty and the headwaters of grace.

I see the way when I think of death.
The billowing the covering of it.
As it pours from Fate’s flame.

I see the way when we ride.
In and out, near and far, the right lane.
The right path on another fossil fuel journey.

I see the way when your eyes tear up.
The wetness from all the mess they left us.
And in the involuntary way your face contracts.

I see the way right here playing loud.
The same way generations were defined.
The way vibrations can impact the soul.

I see the way but never expected to see it.
The direction that changed. The change of change.
And now that I know, I always will.

I see the way in a crowded club, the nexus between.
How she swings that backside side to side.
And how a suit and an addict can dance the same dance.

I see the way outside just yesterday.
The constant movement. The rush.
I see it then, next week, tomorrow and today.

I see it this way.
Some people are so ashamed.
Others are so damn mad.
Some people are sane.
Others just got it bad.
Some people cry and weep.
Others play it safe.
Some people take a leap.
Others live as fakes.
Some people play music.
Others shoot craps.
Some people are here.
Others never were.
Some people fear.
Others got the nerve.
I see it that way.

RwmG

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Ranch Poem – “Mother Ganges”

2007

“Mother Ganges”

As I merged with the river,
I separated from all the unknown.
Soaked with the inner mirror
my being had shown.

An infection may maim,
while the body suffers and pains.
The self still strives upward,
your mind never falls lame.

I seek liberation from the bad and the good,
because a forest fire is still fueled by wood.
To experience the ultimate, ten-fold.
The ground beneath my feet on an eternal stroll.

A witness to a mighty gust of wind, a slow burning flame,
the passing of friends, a newborn named.
The role of all lifetimes submerged into her waves.
To search. To never find a poison that saves.

RwmG

Ranch Poem – “It’s a Car Wreck”

12/29/07

“It’s a Car Wreck”

A fiddling tune pushes us through Sun City,
your auburn eyes making the sunlight pretty.
Two nights in a country inn, staying ’til tomorrow.
Dressing, undressing, and resting our sorrows.

And as we sleep, our feet entwine.
Mountainous dreams that we’ll climb.
A vagabond may be broke but never blind,
we gotta take it down down down through our mind.

Flags wave goodbye.
Mile markers are just lies.
And yes, we will be looking good.
In your memory dress
and my opportunity boots.

A road that spans forever,
a worn out town.
Been wondering lately,
if up is really down.

We’ve dodged fires and floods.
Shunned murder and disease.
Escaped the forces of change.
Traveling, living with ease.

People know we must have lost it,
and that working cell phones is what we need.
But there’s no substitute for vagueness.
Blending in with big willow trees.

A road that goes on forever.
A worn out town.
Been wondering lately
if up is really down.

Constantly available.
GPS heartbeats.
Facebook livelihood.
Credit check love letters.
Dusty passports.
Entropic everything everywhere.
It’s a car wreck.

RwmG

Ranch Poem – “The Lunar Cycle”

10/7/2007

The Lunar Cycle

I gotta be rid of her, I’ve decided.
this woman, in her bring-me-down blouse.
the subtraction to my addition.
another tarnished by a wild condition.
like most of us, behind these barricaded doors.

So I caught an outbound rail
after posting bail from the livelihood jail,
listening to the distant closeness
of the talk passed from one to one,
or one to a brink wall.

jammed wall to wall, as these places are,
I’m sure I’m alone by far,
and wide-eyed
from the aura of everything and
everyone’s power and value.
I thought that if they would just work on
carrying it well,
maybe there would be no
recession after a swell.

a loaded southern drawl reverberated
violently off of my double breasted persona image constrictor
and believe it or not,
it became impossible to think swifter.

me and all the hopheads and investors
didn’t want to know exactly what
this Deputy Dog voice meant to say.
though, at any given moment
I’m sure one of us will
snap. snap. snap. snap.

That is really what I need,
what I’ve been waiting ideally for:
an unadulterated breeze of alone.
a time slowing, frozen moment
to stiffen me up against
this unifying meaning of the mob.

a neon hot ricochet of the future tense
lies behind any door.
Will you approach cautiously,
fearing anything you weren’t told before?

Fuck it, get free from foreshadowing,
so this history life of ours won’t be such a
goddamn bore.

All I mean to do is grab everyone I know,
carry in their groceries, realize their
stress, clean up every mess and
say to their childhood selves,
“ Think it over.”

cause no one in their right mind
wants to become dead while living.
I’m boarding a living, breathing,
freethinking freight-train,
and I hate feeling sorry for
every-person left to the
comforts of cotton-modesty.
going to the dogs or getting rich,
going to the dogs by getting rich,
and embodying the everyday lunar cycle.

RwmG

Ranch Poem – “This Way, That Way”

2/9/07

This way, That way

I see the way when I close my eyes.
That red, blue, and green starry sky.
A search for life’s bounty and the headwaters of grace.

I see the way when I think of death.
The billowing, the covering of it.
As it pours from Fate’s flame.

I see the way when we ride.
In and out, near and far, the right lane.
The right path on another fossil fuel journey.

I see the way when your eyes tear up.
The wetness, from all the mess they left us.
And in the involuntary way your face contracts.

I see the way right here playing loud.
The same way generations were defined.
The way vibrations can impact the soul.

I see the way but never expected to see it.
The direction that changed. The change of change.
And now that I know, I always will.

I see the way in a crowded club, the nexus between.
How she swings that backside to side to side.
And how a Suit and a Addict can dance the same dance.

I see the way outside just yesterday.
The constant movement, the rush.
I see it then, next week, tomorrow, and today.

I see it this way.
Some people are so ashamed.
Others are so damn mad.
Some people are sane.
Others just got it bad.
Some people cry and weep.
Others play it safe.
Some people take a leap
Others live as fakes.
Some people play music.
Others shoot craps.
Some people use it or lose it.
Others never remember to wrap.
Some people are here.
Others never were.
Some people fear.
Others got the nerve.
I see it that way.

RwmG

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Ranch Poem – “Rattled Straight”

9/27/2007

“Rattled Straight”

as dusk breaks,
a woman in
her car
screams:
“The world is
a cruel,cruel place!”
and while the
pink clouds
dance across
the disappating
blue sea sky,
I can only
feel irritated
at her
dramatic
realization
of this downward
spiral.

my eyes
are getting longer
and as
I’m getting older
constantly,
I wish
I knew
which ones
are
with me,
and which have
folded.

and I often lay lazily
wondering of
this future
of mine.
will I change
mistakenly,
for some idea?

a stench so
strong fills
Brooklyn tonight
and its not
the industry
or lack of
sanitation,
no,
that is the
aroma of
a young
revolutionary,
submerged
up to his ears
in a pool of
rum
and an
imported
cloud of
cigar soot.

I need nothing,
no one, no where,
no more
of this everyday
non-sense!

I’ll roll around
til I’m
rattled
straight.
until I’m
wide open
and the
thought of
the purse
of the lips
of the sexiest
female excites
my every
last synapse
in a sudden
sobering
blast of
fulfillment.

and all the
sagging faces
will gobble
up every
piece of
fucking
non-sensical genius,
to vomit the
remains into
a conventional
receptacle.

brazen and rash,
something propelled
the post-man
to burn his
mail-filled
ice-cream truck,
three days before
Christmas.
what brought
upon such
instinct?
nothing
except a
realization
that anything
destroyed that
easily is
revered and
loved for
all the
never-lasting
reasons.

a lot of good
we did.
what have we
got to show for
our hours of
dreaming and
bullet dodging
other than
a searing
regret that
we didn’t
throw the
first punch
or the last?
that we cursed
and quoted Ginsburg,
broke down on the
heart of Highway 61.
and forget how
alive we were
until our fists
pounded out rhythms
across
our bony cage.

RwmG

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