Somewhere between reading Rainer Maria Rilke and listening to Ray Wylie Hubbard’s “Drunken Poet’s Dream,” the following just flowed out — as usual, no rewrite, you get what you see.
THE BODY SLOWS ME DOWN
The body slows me down, but the blood still flows, the soul hasn’t slowed fostering a deep and necessary intimacy with life.
The body slows me down, but I count my blessing without a 60-cycle hum, freed from habitual trains of thought.
The body slows me down, but the poets still, please with a taste of bittersweet chocolate, burning through the words manifested in music.
The body slows me down, but my mind leads the way to an enigmatic mystery, seeking a Rilke Maria’s moment freed by Ray Wylie’s applause.
The body slows me down, but I keep running from the ghosts that keep on coming around the bend.
The body slows me down, but it’s a dividing outline is no longer there providing a membrane between inner and outer worlds.
The body slows me down, but I can still hum Polk Salad Sally, framing cosmic image descending from invisible heights.
The body slows me down, but I still use my imagination to inspire conscious thinking, allowing “the damn fox do what a damn fox does.”
“The days I keep my gratitude higher than my expectations, I have really good days.” — Ray Wylie Hubbard
“Ah, where have they gone, the amblers of yesterday? Where have they gone, those loafing heroes of folk song, those vagabonds who roam from one mill to another and bed down under the stars? Have they vanished
along with footpaths, with grasslands and clearings, with nature?”
Somewhere between reading Rainer Maria Rilke and listening to Ray Wylie Hubbard’s CD, “The Grifter’s Hymnal,” the following just flowed out — as usual, no rewrite, you get what you see.
THE BODY SLOWS ME DOWN
The body slows me down, but the blood still flows, the soul hasn’t slowed fostering a deep and necessary intimacy with life.
The body slows me down, but I count my blessing without a 60-cycle hum, freed from habitual trains of thought.
The body slows me down, but the poets still, please with a taste of bittersweet chocolate, burning through the words manifested in music.
The body slows me down, but my mind leads the way to an enigmatic mystery, seeking a Rilke Maria’s moment freed by Ray Wylie’s applause.
The body slows me down, but I keep running from the ghosts that keep on coming around the bend.
The body slows me down, but its dividing outline is no longer there providing a membrane between inner and outer worlds.
The body slows me down, but I can still hum Polk Salad Sally, framing cosmic image descending from invisible heights.
The body slows me down, but I still use my imagination to inspire conscious thinking, allowing “the damn fox do what a damn fox does.”
kenne
“The days I keep my gratitude higher than my expectations, I have really good days.”
— Ray Wylie Hubbard
Ray Wylie Hubbard at the Rhythm Room, Phoenix, Arizona (October 30, 2014) — Images by kenne
I live with a women that loves to gamble, Me, I can take it, or leave it — mostly leave it.
But, life is all about give and take, my coochy coochy, coo — give and take.
There’s a night club in sun city called the Rhythm Room, home of a mean blues harp player twenty-two years out of Chicago.
Got a Rhythm Room email — Ray Wylie Hubbard, October 30th, this trick and treat time
will be only a treat.
I’m gonna give my women a deck of cards at Wild House Pass Casino and count my blessings.
Ordered our tickets and off to Phoenix — she at the helm, I listening to iTunes radio.
She gets in gambling time before driving down Indian School Road — “Look at that line at the door.”
Doors opened at seven, house packed an hour before D.L. Marble give us some Sonoran Rock ‘n Roll.
Sitting behind mama Marble, we couldn’t help but feel kinda special on another evening at Corritore’s Rhythm Room.
We were ready for some down home country blues, Lighten Hopkins style with sprinkles of Townes and Hayes.
Here we are just north of the border, our table just been cleaned, must be time to order some of that mescaline.
“I’m gonna holler and I’m gonna scream I’m gonna get me some mescaline She brings me roses and a place to lean A drunken poets dream.” *
Ray walked onto the stage to the hollering and screaming, a love fest sing along — loving the music, loving the story,
Loving the man — It don’t get no better!
— kenne
Click here to watch a great full concert video done three years ago. The Rhythm Room show was pretty much the same — “If it ain’t broke, don’t break it!”
Somewhere between reading Rainer Maria Rilke and listening to Ray Wylie Hubbard’s latest CD, “The Grifter’s Hymnal,” the following just flowed out — as usual, no rewrite, you get what you see.
THE BODY SLOWS ME DOWN
The body slows me down, but the blood still flows, the soul hasn’t slowed fostering a deep and necessary intimacy with life.
The body slows me down, but I count my blessing without a 60-cycle hum, freed from habitual trains of thought.
The body slows me down, but the poets still, please with a taste of bittersweet chocolate, burning through the words manifested in music.
The body slows me down, but my mind leads the way to an enigmatic mystery, seeking a Rilke Maria’s moment freed by Ray Wylie’s applause.
The body slows me down, but I keep running from the ghosts that keep on coming around the bend.
The body slows me down, but it’s a dividing outline is no longer there providing a membrane between inner and outer worlds.
The body slows me down, but I can still hum Polk Salad Sally, framing cosmic image descending from invisible heights.
The body slows me down, but I still use my imagination to inspire conscious thinking, allowing “the damn fox do what a damn fox does.”
— kenne
“The days I keep my gratitude higher than my expectations, I have really good days.”
— Ray Wylie Hubbard
Sunset Shadow — Image by kenne
Ray Wylie Hubbard — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Ray Wylie Hubbard at the Rhythm Room, Phoenix, Arizona (October 30, 2014) — Images by kenne
