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EXCERPT ONE FROM
THE LOBOSCO FILES By
John Sheehan |
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Oh!-I was out cutting wood ,then
came in and vacumed my basement before students come tonight and all the
time that *!@#$%?STARSTRUCK SONG WAS RINGING IN MY HEAD...I HATE THAT SONG
WITH IT'S CIRCUS OF HORRORS MELODY....The accompanying video is me tied to
a seat on a roller coaster,whipping along at treacherous speeds through
some sort of cruel funhouse where everyone is laughing except for me.My
mouth is held closed with duct tape so I can't angrily voice my
dissaproval and opinionate on the subject of mindcontrol and it's uses in
destroying individualism. Forbert the torturer is at the controls and Ray
Davies has alligator clipped my ears wide open so as to insure hearing the
insidious sing along at ear piercing levels. |
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Pilgrimage To
The Delta By
John Sheehan |
There's hardly any truth to the
story, but whether it's myth or fact some people believe it goes like this:
Late September of '97' two acoustic blues enthusiasts traveled from
the north to Memphis. They were on a blues pilgrimage, anxious to channel some
blues spirit from the dead musicians that've come before them.
They visited Beale Street where
W.C. Handy, BB King and other legendary musicians are immortalized. They
traveled south of Memphis to the cotton pickin' towns of Mississippi where the Delta Blues sound was created.
Sitting reverently at the graves of Mississippi John
Hurt, Robert Johnson, Sonny Boy Williamson and Charlie Patton they improvised blues in
their awkward anachronistic style.
THEY WERE AFTER THE AUTHENTIC THING
HERE, THEY WANTED TO PLAY AUTHENTIC BLUES GUITAR!!!! They were not satisfied with the cheap half-assed version
they were used to hearing at the beer bashes back home.
One night while pitching the tent ,that was half the size of the
smaller of the two, their pointless argument over who was the best fingerpicker from the Delta
region, was interrupted when they discovered in the leaves, by the banks of the Sunflower River ,an old
box. Thinking there might be money in it, they forgot their friendship for nearly an hour as they
wrestled and fought in the leaves and mud for possession.
When they opened the
box, instead of money, they found an old manuscript of guitar tablature appearing to be in the style of blues great Robert
Johnson. AUTHENTIC STYLE BLUES MUSIC INDEED!!!! THIS WAS THE CHANCE THEY'VE
BEEN LOOKING FOR!!!
At the bottom of the manuscript appeared the signature of the obscure Peg
Leg Grossman, the Grandfather of the somewhat less obscure Stephan
Grossman, the blues archivist and writer of guitar tabs from Sparta NJ.
Conjecture has it that the manuscript was an arrangement of Robert Johnson's intended for
recording. It would have been the 30th recording of Johnson's everyone was
looking for!
Before they could resume their fighting over ownership of the authentic
manuscript, the Memphis police arrived and promptly cuffed the two crazed
blues zealots and took them to jail for failure to pay their outrageous Hotel and Bar bill at the prestigious Peabody Hotel. The manuscript now lies in the Delta Blues Museum in Clarksdale
Mississippi, in a glass case for anyone to witness.
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Excerpt
from..."Of Autumn and Insight"
(by Joseph M Lobosco 2002)
~Freedoor Dreamt~
The courage to appear as we are...
What a novel idea...stripped of the clothing and coverings of culture and insecurity,
the ego hiding tricks that help us to disappear...almost.
Will we even recognize ourselves in such a base naked state of just being ?
without false identities and false prophets,
the endless, empty expectations...
free of it all ?
Oh how I crave anonymity !
Which road might take us toward Freedoor ?...
the one in my dream,
or the ghost fountain trail ?...
the one that climbs The Blind Mountain ?
Let us choose our path on the first dawn,
when we reach The Forest of Insight...
at first sign of Autumn Light... |
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The
Passerby By
William Robert Leonard |
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And so as the intellectual ponderings of a previously unperceived wise man
amongst common fools far outweighs the incoherent babblings of his peers,
another day progresses only to further demonstrate the harshness of the
realization of reality attained through the observations of a random
passerby. The passerby who thinks it’s sad to observe the wise man whose
presence is even mocked by the closeness of his lowly surrounding
occupants within the observed perimeter in which he currently resides.
Then wondering to himself “who is the greatest fool present?” “Is it
the wise man in which I thought so great who stands amongst fools to only
degrade himself by his mere presence within their circle?”
"Or the fools being even greater fools for thinking they
should speak to him. Or is it I as my second inclinations tell me that
maybe a truly wise man would not think so highly of himself as not to
observe and learn from the presence of even the lowliest man. And who is
the greatest fool present|? For surely it is not I. I am just a passerby.
Merely biding my time in thought, as I walk by. Just a passing thought in
a momentary span of time. But now the thoughts all fade, as my attention
turns away." As will yours when you turn this page. |
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Kevin’s Prayer
By Michelle Crepeau
(About
a baby born too soon)
Our lord in heaven
We pray for little Kevin.
We pray…
For his eyes, mouth and nose
For his arms, legs, fingers and toes.
We pray…
For his heart, lungs and ears
We pray…
That you take away all of his tears.
We pray…
That you continue to make him strong.
We pray…
For this all day long.
We pray…
That you take care of his mom and dad.
We pray…that you keep them from being sad.
Lord we believe in you,
And all the miracles that you do.
So we put Kevin in your hands and we have no fear.
With you in control, him coming home to us is near.
We pray for all of this in your son Jesus’ name.
Amen.
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Nuts
By William Robert Leonard
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I fell in love with a mental case
There's something wrong with her that I just can't place
And I must be a nut for wanting her back
I guess we're two nuts from the very same sack |
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Love?
By Donna Parker |
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You
said you loved me
Yet you play your little games
You said you'd change
But things stay the same
Another promise unkempt
Another night I wept
And you said you loved me
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Haiku
(By the rules)
By Skip Hullet |
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This is an
haiku
I am following the rules
But the last line's too long |
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