Ah Shucks, Let’s Go For A Ride

~

with

Rawclyde!

~

Hop on up

T’is my favorite mode of transportation

Pegasus is a good friend of mine

Come on now

Here

Take my hand

It don’t bite &

Neither does this flying horse

Ah yes

Let’s go

!

Flying low flying high

Let’s go find some sky

!

Ah yes

Each cloud a smiley face

Each patch of blue endlessly

happy happy

What?

Feeling kind of crappy?

Well well

Let’s go

Find some ghoul

Whose head

You can puke on ’til

he’s drowning in a pool

of disharmony &

We’ll fly away full of

happy happy again

Oh my

We’re higher than all those

puny skyscrapers below

The wind singing awesome songs

We’ve never heard befo’

You’re smiling so much

My goodness

My goddess

You’re smiling so much

So so much my goddess

!

Text:

Copyright Clyde Collins 2016

Art:

B&W of Pegasus by Daniel Eskridge

Spiritualities

our beloved one

http://www.regalrena.com

~~~

I met a woman

she wasn’t there

not even air

words & pictures made of light

~

She was

what I have come

to behold

a spirituality

~

Alas, our fingertips danced

oceans apart

something was there

besides air

~

Words bounced around

balls of silly putty

‘tween us & then poof!

she was gone

~

She had a whip

and a smile

to employ

in a dark place

~

But I saw something

completely different

in the lady’s

smiley face

~

T’was

an

angel

a spirituality

~

These pictures

they’re made to steal

with a click

do with them what you wish

~

But there are consequences

yes, she’s here, she’s gone

touched yet untouched

an internet spirituality

~

Beautiful warm

so vibrant & real

hair flowing, shoulders with

a smooth firm curve

~

Eyes of color of soul

make my heart glow

make my words bounce

across the sea

~

Silly

putty

spirit-

uality!

~

Another woman come along

smoothly chirping

a bubbly brook

a fluttering floating song

~

For what is she looking?

fingertips deftly dive into my pocket to find

the prayer of a tramp

a coin-less hole

~

An exquisitely well mannered dove

she too welds a whip

but it’s for me to use on her

I won’t, I can’t!

~

Click

whoa!

I find pictures more pictures

pictures galore

~

She’s born-again gorgeous

has no whip

nor

is she a whore

~

She’s simply there

dressed up & dressed down

in a thousand dresses

for any old horn-dog clown

~

She

is

Catholic

as can be

~

And I am

old

poor

yet free

~

Beloved spiritualities

flitting in & out of

my eye ~ how can I

not love you?

~

Love ~ is it

really there, really here

made not of brick

made not of air?

~

from Rawclyde!

~~~

palace restaurant prescott

http://www.historicpalace.com

~~~

Love is in the air…

dreamstimefree_796245 geese

~~~

GUN 2013

Chapter 6

~~~

I find it peculiar being an old man.  Being a young man is one thing.  Being a man is a little bit of another.  But being an old man is indeed peculiar.

I have loved women on occasion, physically & heartfully, but never committed to marrying one.  So now I live without that comfort, that company, and actually don’t know that much about it.  Consequently, for me now, what is Love?

God, Jehovah, Allah, Krishna is love.  Mary, the mother of Jesus, is love.  And Jesus, himself, is a man painted with God colors.  I pray, usually alone.  For me, prayer is a certain thought in a certain direction, sometimes vocalized.  I pray that my love for life all around me never dies.  When an attractive woman comes along & gives me the time of day ~ this is a special moment ~ a poetic moment ~ when love blooms like a little desert flower ~ like a little miracle from on high.

When I regain consciousness a 2nd time on the Greyhound heading into Phoenix ~ I take a long look at the other secret agent and tell her, “Love is in the air.”

She laughs, being a woman with a good nature.  And she says, “What?”

Maybe she wants to hear the quaint news again.  I don’t know.  I cannot stop myself from continuing the refrain.  My hand waves around like an archangel’s wand.  And I say,  “Love is all around, in this run-a-way bus, in the desert air outside!  Look!”

I see in her two big emeralds a quizzical regard toward he whom she’s giving her sacred attention.  I believe she thinks I’m crazy.  But I believe she might like crazy, my kind of crazy.  She glances around in token respect.

What does the fair & desirable secret agent see?

The couple in the seat behind us is buried in a blanket.  Two single men further back cannot stop talking enthusiastically in a foreign accent ~ crossing America.  Two kids back there are teasing their mom.  Or is the big lady their aunt?  Upfront older folks have flocked around the driver like he is George Washington, despite the strange plastic cubicle inside which he is confined.

Outside our rolling thunder, the creosote is pretty prominent in these parts.  The saguaro cacti is pretty scrawny and occasional.  Anything called a mountain is pretty far away.  There’s lots of space.  Most of it is limitless blue sky.

“What did you say your name is?”

Stray strands of red hair swirl around.  She smiles.  “I am Ms. Whapp.”

“Would you happen to know what time it is, Ms. Whapp?”

She pulls out her phone.  Click.  “It’s 3:10.  And you can call me by my first name if you can remember it.”

All I can remember is her first name is one long roller-coaster ride…

~ by Rawclyde!

~~~

In Heaven with Diana (part two)

tumblr_ma6az60QwI1rdbsf8o1_500

~

So here stand Diana and I holding hands in the living room on Sunday morning.  Our house is not on planet Earth.  Our house is in Heaven.  And our honeymoon is endless.

“Now, baby, now,” whimper I to my Diana.  She’s my beautiful wife.  And I am so lucky ~ oops, I mean blessed!  I say to her, “You gotta put on a dress if we’re going to Church today.”

“We’re in Heaven, Clyde,” says Diana.  “We can go to Church naked if we want.”  I almost believe her.  The way she is holding my hand, the way the green green grass of home ricochets in her eyes, the way her sacred body emits its glow and warmth ~ all this, everything in the universe, tells me to believe her.

My knees are more and more wobbly.  I have a bottomless craving to kneel before we even get to Church.  Jesus please have mercy on my soul.  I want to kneel in front of my wife!  “C’mon, Diana, please.  Please go put on a dress.  We’re going to be late.”

I am dressed swank ~ really swank.  I’m even wearing my grey top hat.  I am ready for Church.  But Diana ~ my long legged, green eye-ed darling…

“Why? Why, Diana?  Why are you doing this?”

She’s not totally naked.  She’s got the pelt of a raccoon draped over her head.  Something her Uncle Davy gave her.  It’s paws hang down to either side a bit past her neck, intimate pals with her gold-streaked hair.  If they hung down any further their claws would be resting upon her delightfully elongated boom booms.  She shrugs in reply to my exasperated questioning.  And my wife says, “I am a forest priestess.  What do you expect?  Look into my eyes.”  She steps closer than she already is and, with her breezy breath fanning my inflamed face, whispers, “Look deep.”

The head of the raccoon pelt, its nose sticking out a little over Diana’s forehead, its little marble eyes staring off into space, is perched up there like a baseball cap.  But forget that furry thing!

I lose myself in Diana’s cathedral windows.  A point-blank reflection of Heaven is in there.  She let’s go my hand and her fingernails etch a trail up my sleeve.  She rests the fingertips of her magic hands on the tops of my ears.  Like I’m a steering wheel.

I kneel.

~ by Rawclyde!

~

art courtesy of:

http://krystleyez.com

~

In Heaven with Diana (part one)

~~~

She's got a new hat...

~~~

Here in Heaven it is Sunday morning and time to go to Church.  The front door is open.  Outside the birds are chirping and the bells are ringing.  I am wearing my grey top hat and dressed swank on the edge of the couch ~ waiting for Diana.  We’ve been married for about half a year.  It’s absolutely ridiculous how happy we are.

She twirls into the living room and stands in front of me.  She loves to stand in front of me when I’m sitting down ~ especially when she’s naked.  I love it too because she’s beautiful and she’s my wife.  But why is she naked now?  And what is that on top of her head?

“I’m ready,” she says.

“You’re naked,” says I.  “How can you be ready when you’re naked?”  I’m looking up at her pretty startled.  The contraption draped over her head has eyes and claws and lots of fur.  It looks like the skin of a wild raccoon.  “And what’s that on top of your head?”

“Uncle Davy gave me this.  C’mon.  Let’s go.”  She lifts my hand in her very warm one and in her gentle way pulls me up off the couch and toward the door.

“Hold it!” I protest as I abruptly stop in my tracks.  I shut the door, accidentally slamming it.  Obviously I’m losing my cool and on the verge of causing a scene, which doesn’t really matter because we’re home alone.  We’re still holding hands.

Thank God we’re holding hands.  But are we going to make it to Church this morning?  Diana’s point-blank emerald eyes are killing me.  She raises one smooth shoulder like it is the “good morning” sun ~ a few inches from my chin.  Meanwhile my knees are beginning to wobble and I am on the verge of kneeling before we even get to Church!

Jesus Christ have mercy…

~ Rawclyde!

~~~

Photo courtesy of Fashion Tadpole:

http://fashiontadpole.blogspot.com/2010/04/davy-crockett.html

~~~

Forest Priestess

cheri-3549

~~~

Going To Prescott

chapter 3

~~~

All kinds of growth poking up out of the rot, here, in this Ponderosa Pine forest at the edge of the little city of Prescott, Arizona.  Lots of trees verily verily tall.  The wind keeps blowing but only touches the tops of the trees ~ and sings its song ~

To me.

What’s so important about me? Nothing. And everything. A remnant of Walt Whitman’s song to democracy.

Lordy Lordy, thank-you for getting me out here ~ out here where I don’t belong. Ask the deer. They’ll tell you I don’t belong here. Ask the ranger. He’ll tell you the same.

I didn’t know what I was doing, but You, oh Lordy Lordy Lord Jehovah, got me out here anyway ~ camoflauged away from the highway, which sings its motorola song down below my own true-blue knob of silent granite outcrop, behind which I have pitched my tent, here on the mountain side that I share with the birds and the deer, the rotting logs, pine needles & pine cones & all these tall tall trees.

Which reminds me of Diana, the forest priestess from Portland, Maine. Thinking about her, the mountain chill no longer bothers me. Suddenly, I like it!

A soft lump of gooey play-doe in the bottom of my belly is all thats left of the hard brick of jealousy that once long ago reigned in my chest ~ over the flesh & blood woman who is now the idolized priestess who rules deep in the night ~ especially here in the forest when the wind has stopped blowing and the quietude is topless & bottomless. It’s a slice of the pie of the mystical reality of reality that I am now a slave to the etheral priestess ~

Diana!

cheri

She, a newly-arrived PFC in the U.S. Army, took me jogging thru the snow-flake-ed woods at Fort Ben Harrison, Indiana, in the frost-bitten January of ’81. I was hung-over. I couldn’t keep up. And my 30-year-old wang-dang froze off.

Diana!

She was 28 years old, long legged, long haired, and long over-due and I don’t mean pregnant. She was way ahead of everybody else & nutty as a fruitcake. T’was I who was her chosen slaughter.

Two years later, up on the Presidio Military Post in Monterey, California, disenchanted with barracks life & unwilling to put up with other women, Sp5 Diana pitched her tent in a woody grove of the military post.  She actually knew how to live in solitude  while in the U.S. Army. When I finally caught up to her, she told me of how a deer with whom she lived in this patch of pine trees would eat out of her hand.

Diana!

http://bakdezerttrail.yolasite.com/

cheri-3493

http://ambralightplay.wordpress.com/2012/12/06/the-pagan-priestess/#

~~~