By: Judson Stacy Vereen
My favorite part:
Everybody tells the truth to you
Just in their own way
No one’s “truth” will be exactly the same…
Should be soundtrack for a Dylan movie . . .
Perhaps!...it will be...
I like it that mean I will read at home in peace. Thank you
thanks Judson be well. davpi3.14
Thanks Stacy hope you are well. davpi3.14
Warm wishes to everyone on Winter Solstice. Please celebrate with family and friends. davpi3.14
I’d love to have a conversation with the poet. Sad, cutting, direct, mournful - utterly human.
Anytime!
This is beautiful
So beautiful...
Birth of a Political Junkie
Jane and I watched Psycho, soap operas,
Oblivious Trade buildings crumbling,
Falling. We then went to
One of her favorite spots, a biker bar
I’m no music major but the universe strings reach me to tug me with words that sing I believe a hopeful tune.
What I’d like to know is if Judson wrote this poem before or after the photo was taken; because he sure looks hammered. 😎
Ha. I wrote the poem years after the photo, in Brasil!
My guess is the aura caught in the photo may have eventually led to the feelings in the poem.
I Love your work
It makes my heart sing
Do you write everyday all day long
Or just when your spirit comes to bring?
As much as I can, but I don't push it. Comes in waves!
Thanks for reading, D.J.!
I know it can’t be true
But in my mind I can see you
Playing with your lighter
And bangin’ it out
On an Underwood typewriter
My favorite part:
Everybody tells the truth to you
Just in their own way
No one’s “truth” will be exactly the same…
Should be soundtrack for a Dylan movie . . .
Perhaps!...it will be...
I like it that mean I will read at home in peace. Thank you
thanks Judson be well. davpi3.14
Thanks Stacy hope you are well. davpi3.14
Warm wishes to everyone on Winter Solstice. Please celebrate with family and friends. davpi3.14
I’d love to have a conversation with the poet. Sad, cutting, direct, mournful - utterly human.
Anytime!
This is beautiful
So beautiful...
Birth of a Political Junkie
Jane and I watched Psycho, soap operas,
Oblivious Trade buildings crumbling,
Falling. We then went to
One of her favorite spots, a biker bar
I’m no music major but the universe strings reach me to tug me with words that sing I believe a hopeful tune.
What I’d like to know is if Judson wrote this poem before or after the photo was taken; because he sure looks hammered. 😎
Ha. I wrote the poem years after the photo, in Brasil!
My guess is the aura caught in the photo may have eventually led to the feelings in the poem.
I Love your work
It makes my heart sing
Do you write everyday all day long
Or just when your spirit comes to bring?
As much as I can, but I don't push it. Comes in waves!
Thanks for reading, D.J.!
I know it can’t be true
But in my mind I can see you
Playing with your lighter
And bangin’ it out
On an Underwood typewriter