Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the sweet anonymous solitude of the road
and the internet

a beautiful day in may
like a gift in march
gonna make my ride
do or die
I got to ride
shake this black cloud dogging me

jam is like catching up to a friend on a CB radio
he is west bound and you east
ain't seen each other in month of sudays
cause we been running the road for weeks
nothing like that feeling of hearing a friendly familiar voice on a CB jam
as you move farther apart and fade out of range the conversation lingers
like the last note in a melody

heave a rope
toss out a thread
aim starlight
to you, can you catch?

Caught
A bit ....late
Sunday night
Light wet snow
Crackling down
Feel like a nightcap

mind pulled over my ears
wanna hear espresso shriek
but muffled by history
too many images
can't remove the ring

i once knew paradise
yes
3 days to call my own
and now
no

back to the rigours of others
the needs and screams
too many neuroses

i must be mad

I must be mad
to sing her love song

too many woes
the wind whistles
and we face them
one at a time
jump over them if we can
go round if we can't
I got to go down rocking

I must be stoned
what do I know in real life
I live alone
among strangers who leave me alone
other than the occasional pyscho-bitch
and guilt addled mothers I hardy have any neuroses
except my own

I live in my head
with my mad girl's love song
I think I made myself up inside her head

saw my first wild flowers
don't work too hard

saw the wildflowers
amid a sea of sun and sand
rockin' down the road, rolling,
flowing into vanishing ribbons
dwight yoakam crackles on the radio
the drone of your rig for company
my rolling vision, cooped up too long
outward to the interior, into thin air
to the jumping mountains of nevada
off to spaces between thoughts
to a ten-story sign by the road
"welcome to puckerbrush, pop. 28"
ever been to puckerbrush, nevada?

ah, cabin fever again
in my mind's eye
restless eye ...

your awesome restless eye

Nevada the big lonely
when you break down or get lost

"then I looked up and felt/saw the tender indifference of the stars"
[Camus paraphrase]

Lotsa lonely highways
Stretching as far as
U can see
Long stretches between
The mountain ranges
Straight arrow straight

burned for horizon
the next casinotown flash
the map had only lines and dots
but those blank spaces between
they run a few cows, not sure how
rain sifts from billowed bellies in vain
turned away in dissipated shrouds
bare rock murals like crude sketches
seem to shrink and grow in the light play
impossibly removed and close at hand
the stars tactile, burning in deep black
burn! burn! burn for horizon.

ah, thanks for letting me live my rolling visions
ah, this dark winter day,
but here comes the sun ...



puckerbrush .... (by bud larson)

hehe ...

yeah that's true lotsa lonely roads
but there ain't so much dark on most of them
likes there is in Nevada
a spooky place at night
not many places in the united snakes— where you can see a hundred miles of dark

the demon that drive me to the darkness
the heroes journey
to return with some good news

here we are like a bunch of good buddies sending each other flowers
me thanking you while you thanking me
mom always wanted us to play together friendly like

what drives that awesome eye
what is that made Nietzsche stare into the darkness
the same awful [2.archaic] geometry
is just another roadside attraction to the life's passerby's
what a beautiful world it still is
we must make our lives a beautiful garden of our lives
cause it is going fast
cha cha changes
right beneath our feets
we jam on jam
we can make it last
make it good to the
last drop

sometimes i don't wanna cloud the view with syllables
just let the scenery do the communicating
it's like that sometimes

that is why we need the neon of Las Vegas
to obscure the
celestial scenery
I suppose

I wish I had your eye for geometry and geology
thank you for letting me see with it

I do drone on
something about the sound of a big diesel, vibrates at some molecular level, a physiological state of complete sensory gratification
Happy schumck drivin a truck
and everything was just a roadside attraction
I was a wage slave and that truck a ball and chain

whoa a lot of syllables there sorry just a few more


I stopped a few times to hear the silence of the stars
and I was always watching the horizon for the skullcap of light over a city.