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Sunday, June 27, 2010

Trippin'

Yo Mama!
By GC SMITH


Never
abandon hope
hell bent
Babylonian baby
Just ‘cause they say
you’re
bound to burn

Cavorting
to climax
with curvaceous imps whose delicious
lips inspire desire not to mention eruptions
fixated on feminine fury,
for sure worth the price paid,
any price

grab your socks
drop your grasp
on hardly heartfelt hot flashing
with lavish licks lustily laved
to elicit manly moans
that gotta be worth the move
'cause passion penetrates
pounding, pulsating, rushing,
satisfying sensuality

screams echo
down the shaft
while silken smoothies
steam icicles and succubuses suck
sumptuously, superbly,
supple, working up sweat
in sweltering cribs

throb
till one drops
be free, untied
fettered not as you
thrust torrid torrents
unleash wet, whip strokes
bringing forth volcanic, voluptuous yelps


YELL

hell yes

EXCITEMENT

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Father's Day

In Memorium
by GC SMITH

He was a plain spoken man, not a lot of education, very little money, influential only in a limited and immediate but most important way.

He wasn’t a mover and a shaker, he didn’t hold high office, his wasn’t vast power.

He went to work every day, he provided, he came home each evening to wife and children.

His was a wisdom, uncommon wisdom and uncommonly good. He took care of the important things. He was a moral compass. Steadfast honesty, fairness, decency, the hallmarks of his being, were as natural to the man as walking.

I knew him well.
I knew him from the time of my birth.
I knew him until he left this earth three decades ago.

His name was Charlie.
A plain spoken man.

My friend.
My mentor.
My Dad.

No Foreknowledge

INTO THE UNKNOWN
By GC SMITH

Sailors embark to the unknown
lovers do no less

Each is steered by vagaries
of time and place

Chance brings blue skies, calm days,
placid waters

Or dark skies, wicked waves,
roiled depths

Sea changes bring sailors and lovers
to desert isles or safe harbors

All journey starts with the unknown,
yet we wanderers hope

Monday, June 14, 2010

Bad Stuff

Breach of Trust
By GC SMITH

dere a chasm ‘tween bayou folk an’ da bigshots
an’ dat breach run deep as da Gulf waters
where da Horizon rig done blow up

dat Gulf o’ Mexico
be where our livelihood is
wit’ da shrimp, da fish, an’ yeah, wit’ da black gold

da gubmint doan know what to do
da oil company ain’t helpin’ much
da Bayou folk just takin’ it on da chin again

da marsh, she dyin’
da pelican, da egret, da gator
dey all slick wit’ oil

beaucoup glob o’ dat goo
coat da green salt grasses
turn ‘em all ugly dead

containment booms ain’ working so good
flyovers by corporate big shots ain' da answer
da President yellin’ ‘bout ass kickin’ ain’ nuttin’

dey all tawk ‘bout clampin da blowout preventer, ‘bout top kills,
junk shots, concrete boxes, an’ all manner or stuff dat doan work
while dat black gold keeps on spewin’ from a mile down

we ain’ engineers, an’ we ain’ bureaucrats
we plain folk --we fishers, shrimpers, oilmen
we know da waters, da bayous, an’ da marshes

get dem relief wells drilled,
give us da wherewithal dat we need,
den get outta da way --we’ll clean up

Saturday, June 12, 2010

America's Backbone

MOUNTAIN FOLK
By GC SMITH

Appalacians

I see them everywhere. In the cities now. On the streets. In the pool rooms, bars, fightin' clubs. In swank hotels. Still back in the Piney woods.

I see them drivin' pick up trucks. Driving BMWs.

Enduring people.

Wearing the Nation's uniforms. Fighting for the Government. Teaching school. Growing pot. Preserving the Nation. Turning wrenches. Drivin' tractors. Laying brick. Mending fences. Writing laws. Healing the halt and lame. Fighting the Government. Swilling shine.

Hardy folks.

Scots-Irish. Red Indians. Mulengeons. Blacks. Folks with religion. Folks without. Folks doing the hard work. Folks sticking to it. Folks living in the hardwood forests. Livin' in the long leaf pine stands. Cookin' corn whiskey. Hardscrabble farming. Strip mining. Building cabins. Cutting furrows. Building roads.

Good folks.

Folks on mountain roads. On white water rapids. On back trails. On ridge backs. In Hollers. In the hills. In Cypress Shacks. Folks caught in snow drifts. Folks hangin' on.

Music makers.

Dolly. Bill Monroe. Vassar Clements. Chet Atkins. Roy Acuff. Carters (Mother Maybelle. June, Helen and Anita. A.P.). Johnny. Emmylou. Jerry Douglas. Allison. Lester Flatt. Nitty Gritties (Hanna-Ibbotson-Fadden-McEuen-Thompson). Doc Watson. Bela Fleck. Merle Travis. John Prine. Randy Scruggs. Ricky Skaggs. Earl Scruggs.

Footstomping, finger tapping multitudes.

Keepers of the circle. Folks playin' dobro tuned guitars. Mandolins. Autoharps. Washboards. Fiddles. Mouth Organs. Upright bass. Folks voices, solo and harmony. Folks clog dancing. Whiskey sippin'. Singing rounds. Dancin' squares. Early day and modern music makers.

Folks insuring enduring circles.

Singing. Amazin' Grace. Just a Closer walk. Life's Railway. Little Mountain Church House. One Step Over the Line. Walkin' Shoes Don't Fit Me. You Don't Know My Mind. Wildwood Flower. Honky Tonk Blues. Grandpa Was a Carpenter. Lost River. Diamond In the Rough. Sunny Side. Fishin' Blues. Earl's Breakdown. Will the Circle be Unbroken?

Appalachia-Appalachians.

America's backbone. America's people. The circle endures, unbroken.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Occidental Haiku

LOUDER!
by GC SMITH

DAMMIT you DUMMY
I Want You to Understand
what the fuck I said