Being the public relations person for the Ku Klux Klan must be a thankless job at best. At worst, it's probably any PR person's living nightmare, somewhat akin to persuading the public that anthrax has many convenient household uses, or that, despite the unpleasantness, Hitler did encourage strong economic development. Charlie Watkins always marveled at … Continue reading Klan Candy
The sun goes down, worlds darken. Deep within another tainted dream I wander, alone, with only myself as companion. Dusty hallways fade in light. Eerie screams pierce tortured silence, leaving only scattered bits of broken dreams; just memories.
The small figure stands, clinching the bat, waiting for the final pitch. His chest heaves once, and he glances toward the stands where his mother used to sit. He sees the quick, white spot moving toward him. He swings and knocks it out of the park.
Fields in flower, love in Spring, Joy to human hearts it brings. Life awakens, love in bloom, happiness fills every room. Gentle showers rain again, Summer winds blow quickly in. Life is wondrous, warm, secure. Love comes quickly, more mature. Heated days give passionate haste, To livened kisses, quick embrace. Yet, all seems well in … Continue reading A Change of Season
I have a theory. Most rock anthems, regardless of how mediocre they are, become hits because the first time people hear them, they're stoned. It's the only explanation I have for Stairway to Heaven, which is musically very good, but lyrically lacking. Seriously, "if there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed"? If I … Continue reading Free Bird!
Sit down my friends and drink your cares away, as though there’s nothing to concern you. Sit down my friends, and never mind about the clock. We all have problems, that is true, but, for tonight, just let them slip away, and have a drink on me. We're only here for such a short time, … Continue reading Speakeasy
Barefoot man in the restaurant, his voice knows the names of all who pass his way. Older man than me, his future is not secure, but no one's ever is. Shoeless friend, to all but me knows more of life than I could ever hope to, not because he's lived it better, but because the … Continue reading Late Night Specters