August

It sure was hot that August afternoon
you were late picking me up
and I took refuge in a couple of Coors Lights
while I wondered where the hell you were
I mean, your reputation preceeded you
all the scenes in the clubs,
the drunken gigs
the gun you kept
closer than that damn beeper.
I was mad now, it hadn't been a cake walk
for me that week,
what with the new nine to five
and the rock and roll gigs at Toootsie's
till the wee hours
But
you'd been playin' it pretty straight
and you'd been banging those eighty -eights
like the true Texas Tornado
they said you were,
So,
I put up with the shoot out
outside the club
helped you load the Yamaha Baby Grand,
and rode shot gun in your El Camino
havin' a pretty good time
Until now
I was starting on the long necks when you
pulled into the parking lot,
You didn't give me time to talk,
you looked
wild - eyed
tied up in a tirade
about
sorry you were late
there was something you had to do
across town
that came down
to you
and this other guy,
In between the chatter,
I gathered
this was no ordinary day,
But I didn't quite get the gist of it ,
'cause your speech
was scattered,
nothing made sense but your agitation,
I offered to let you off the hook that night
But you said NO
you were glad to be playin'
and I was glad,
cause it would have been hell
with someone cold,
and you were burnin' down the house
on this gig

Anyway,

Your talent kept you cool
in the middle of the heat
we drove to Fort Worth,
Straight into sun
All red
and orange
and yellow,
Where the horizon line
was all you could see for miles and miles and miles,
without so much as a tree
to interfere with the landscape,

At Toosie's
the boys were already playing ,
you jumped on the stage, joining in
some twelve bar
slow blues
and at your first opportunity
showed off with Sea Cruise,
and the crowd was hot and sweaty
by the time you brought me up,
Born Under A Bad Sign,
turned 'em on,
We were right where we Belonged

Up late
Gettin' that Mojo working

Fast Talk

He laid a little fast talk on me last night,
full of half sentences and half truths
But some of his jive made sense
Especially about the money
and how he was spending it
and I told him good,
'cause I'm down to my last dime
He scolded me a little for having been a dope,
but sweetened it up
with promises of flying
on his nickel
for a change
So I listened to him rave
about the cool people he was in with
and a mysterious partner named Lady T,
and certain key words were introduced
so I would recognize them,
and be interested in listening a little longer,
Clues about what he wanted from me were
at a premium,
that's when I decided it might be a soul breaker,
Since my heart was stolen long ago
And hey, I want to at least break even,
He hung on the line for a couple more choruses,
and I dropped a radio id,
and that seemed to make him happy,
It was time for the hook
but the fast talk came easy
and a little faster, when I decided it was time to fade
Then he offered to run an errand for free,
and I thought
Man,
this is gonna' be expensive.

Of Course

You know I wanted to burn it up
thread those beads together
in a way they have never been patterned before
but the thread was so long
and delicate,
too much ornamentation would have overburdened
the piece,
and there was already so much of it completed
To tear the whole necklace up,
would be foolhardy,
so I think I'll leave this section ice blue
for now,
and put in the crimson
later,
as planned.
We need contrast in the design,
or the meaning
gets lost
Let's talk again when it's finished, k?
Of course, fine
That's fine.

Listen

I want to hear you say
you can put me to work
I want to feel the blood
course through my veins
Heart beating faster,
just thinking about it
But, so much time has passed
and so much money has changed hands,
That the Struggle takes its' toll,
in terms of health, joy, hope, belief,
even desire
for the Tree to bear fruit
On the other hand,
you may know something I don't,
You might have an idea
After all this time,
I am ready to listen.

River Ode

Mighty Mississippi roll along
you've seen it all, no doubt
the meanest, cruelest masters of hate,
the passionate, starving lovers
reaching for each other
under the stars, in the mud,
anywhere there might be a drop of pleasure,
and you rush the flight of phantom sinners to safety,
or perhaps to deliver your own unique angle on the Law
and Justice as we have come to know it,
On a whim you take anything in your Path
just because you can,
When folks need reminding
who runs the show
And why any of it is intact after so long,
so dark a history,
So quiet and remote
there are those who think that God
hasn't seen into the heart of you,
but your serenades have reached the ears of God
for a long time now,
And have been translated by many
hypnotized by the Legends of the Crossroads,
since RJ made his Fascinating Deal
with the Devil
Mighty Mississippi,
your name is on the lips of children jumping skipping rope,
and playing pattiecake,
and women who remember hot sticky nights
on Mud Island,
Travel agents, and politicians promise you
are the next
Big Thing
And riverboat Gamblers
keep on lettin' it roll,
Laughing at the news
and eating Catfish

Mercy

Perhaps it's a better idea
if we keep a slightly
formal distance
between us,
After so many years
of standing side by side,
Its down to the wire
Infinite issues
of such a personal nature
should be whispered
to one another
on a misty afternoon
walking in the rain
so the secrets
are washed away
after they are confessed
And in the end,
the answers must
must be conjured up
from somewhere other than
our private exchanges
for we are only Advisors,
sometimes Muses in the whole affair
But, you have Seen some Light
and shared with me
a Haven,
you have offered Shelter,
from this storm,
And the Offer is Recognized
with a humble and grateful heart
There remains the question
of whether it is the Beggar's right,
to receive Generosity
No matter how Appealing
or, is there a larger sacrifice,
another test
Necessary
to Qualify the Giving
of Mercy

Musing

Oh, for cryin out loud,
Where's the blood and guts?
Well, at least the guts? We have lots of the other,
come to think of it
And what about the sex ?

Damn, now that was what
I really wanted
Who doesn't?
The sweetest gift God gave to man
and woman,too
If she's man enough to take it,
Anyway, we all could use a little more fortitude,
This sure ain't no Donna Reed show
Better get ready, People
That train may be comin'
but there's gonna' be some action before she gets here,
And I do believe they'll have to fix the track,
so, what I'm sayin' is the Friendship Train
is running a little late ,
We'll be lucky if she gets here at all,
Buckle up
Buck up
Back's up against the wall
It's a call to arms
Anyone who'll hold you
In between the bombing,
The shelling
The Whole Lotta' Shaking Going On

Anticipation

Snow's on the ground
but the day is golden
Sunlight cuts through the cold
sparkling
And I'm about to ride in a sleek,
black jaguar,
twisting
Its' way up a mountain called
Rose

Your vibe fills the air, the car,
with excitement
and we haven't met
Not yet.

Little Girl Blue

Little Girl Blue
is her name,
Her poster hangs
under the distinguished
Sam Cooke,
In an office,
where
She managed to get a second
look,
and listen,

She felt the dusty hot wind blow
against her skin,
From the first moment
she was ushered into
the Office
She was from the South
and the tempo and the feel of it,
was real to her,
So this office,
with its Ghostly Gallery
of Family Photos,
Big, thick Bibles,
and Cotton boughs,
just reminded her
of Aunt Pearl's
quiet house,
with the Family names
inscribed in the Good Book,
The cemetary everyone visited,
after church
after Sunday Dinner
each week
Nothing went unoticed by Litle Girl Blue,
The entrance fee was high,
but the record was good,
and it demanded a chance to fly,
so, she paid the price
like her Lord,
and waited to see if His Will
would be done
For she knew His ways
were Mysterious

The Office

It's the craziest place,
nothing like you've ever seen before
A gallery of unknown faces,
All with a certain odd charm,
reach out to you with empty eyes.
Crying It's me ! it's me!
Ghosts from concerts past.
that got lost looking for concerts west
Get through this graveyard
and there's the bough of cotton
with plenty left on the branch
Hanging in memory of those
who toiled in fields of clay,
not clover,
There is no black cat
but a Bible,
in plain view,
a testament to the Faith of his Fathers
who made it through unimaginable hardships
Just so he could have this office.

He sits in that big black leather swivel chair,
dressed to the nines and waiting
for another face to come through the door,

Above his head on the wall
are portraits of his Family
some of whom still live in the Delta,
They are remarkably stiff and somber,
for these photographs were taken long ago,
and the pain is ingrained,
But most remarkable is their Pride,
In themselves and their ability to remain Dignified,
in spite of the torture they endured so he could be King
in this Office.

Remarkable is his charm,
wide as the Mississippi ,
is his grin
and white teeth polished,
shining
A Sunday - Go - To Meeting Smile
with a double-edged sword,
Just like the Lord himself has,
and don't think he wouldn't use it,
For no one is puttin' anything over on him,
He's been there and back
His next move will be going Home,
For no one wants to die in Hollywood,
without having a Hit.

But before he reclaims those forty acres
that the Family left him as a Souvenir,
There is a little work to be done, a couple of
faces,
New to the wall,
Must be dealt with
just in case there might be
Something beyond the entrance fee
to the Office.

Candy Man

You, sweet sugar candy
rich and creamy to taste,
offered the best of life,
And I gulped
voracious New York City,
Excited by the possibilities
of life on Our terms,
while you watched me do that dance step
you taught me,
Amazed that it propelled me across the stage
as well as it did
I was especially good in Boston,
You were so busy with the costumes, make-up
and the kids
It was fun, though
It was Real Life for us,
Costumes and all that jazz,
You taking notes,
wearing silk in the summer,
Melting in the humidity
that Garland make-up
dripping into a
clown face,
I danced praying I wouldn't fall.
But, Man That Got Away
blew them away
Remember that applause?
At the reception
that silver sequin suit
Knocked 'em out
Beautiful baby,
You are
So Beautiful to me
Don't forget to remember
that tune
That's Ours

The Voice

The voice leans upon itself,
gaining strength
from the power
of sound vibrations
emanating
from little chords,
that don't need a piano
to play
So free,
it can make it's own music
any time it desires
It is involved
in a mysterious relationship
with air,
With breath
and breathing deeply,
listening
For itself,
for its' Song

Time

time is a cat
sleeping on the dirty shirt
at the foot of the bed
tail flicks
golden eye glares
clean that box
before I
rip your
throat out

A Mere Decision

The final sacrifice is coming
I can feel it
the magnetic pull
of simply putting an end to this fantastic pain
and waste,
Of talent and beauty,
Gifts no doubt, from above,
The penance of having made the wrong choices,
Maybe not all, but some, which are irreversable
And the hope only
that it is perceived to be
nothing personal
just the proper business move.
Forgive the debt,
If you will.


It calls with such logic
Irrefutable, and plain
Any fool could see that this decision
is a mere exit in a play
which had a good run,
But lost it's Star
due to production costs,
the most amazing point being
that it was not perfectly clear from the start
Oh, there were the dire predictions by those who
always hope for nothing,
make all the practical moves
and never experience
ectasy,
Who cares what they say?
To live on a flatline is an ambition
not worth the aspiration
Better to run for the real excitement,
achievement of the Dream,
completion of a task
whose worth is Indescribable
Delicious,
and Memorable
at least to a Few,
and let them
Revel in the Memory,
rather than put another ,
more expensive bill in front of them.

To Life ! the living of it, the enjoyment of it,
The awe of it,
and the knowing when it has reached its'
Conclusion.

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN

You'll have to go to the website for this one,
typesetting limitations at blogger make this layout impossible here.
http://www.sterling-castle.com/catchmeifyoucan1.html

In My Face

You are in my face
and That's not cool
All I want to do
is go to school,
unoticed,

I want to slip in
and out of class
Do my best,
without my past
being
thrown in my face
Get out of my face
unless you can write me a prescription,
and then ,
Maybe ,
we can talk.
But, unless you can do that for me,
I don't need your psychoanalysis.

Red Hill

I went to the meetings
and someone wrote my name down
and my license plate number
and inside people were standing up
making speeches
that were real long,
and always got a round of applause
No matter what they said
And I thought that was weird
but it was at night, and everyone was friendly
At least polite and smiling
so how weird could that be?
You picked me up after work
you wore a navy blue peacoat
and a knit cap
I didn't notice the pin,
I was too interested in the words you were saying
"Red sun decending
to the sea
ignites the waters momentarily,
promising words yet to be spoken in a dream,
There the populations of my mind appeared,
extending to infinity,
Their eyes were beautiful,
in boundless sorrow
their voice united, merging into mind"
So, the prolific waxing
inside the meeting,
was nothing like the poetry
you sang on the way to the gig
It was too, the style with which you
presented this stuff,
Tall, intense, driven
blue eyes flashing
like it was the only
Cause,
And you may have been right.
'cause everyone ducked back
into their homes in the canyons
waiting for your passion to get the best of you
and you didn't disappoint them,
For they knew what to expect,
Except - what the hell were you thinking?
Chasing that nice producer from New York
around Red Hill with a carving knife?
That wasn't cool, and you were supposed to play that role
But, I'll bet no one told you that was your job.
You would never have taken it on
It was always the music, the language, the magic
Until that night on Red Hill . . .
What were you thinking?

Little Schoolgirl

Ooooooweee, my, but that gal can sing,
Hey little girl come over to my house
and sing me to sleep,
Sorry mister
Not to say there weren't the prerequisite
wild nights
Without which blues singing is impossible
Reckless Abandonment 101,
my favorite
with my partner of choice,
Reelin' and rockin',
Runnin' with bad company
Till daylight breaks again
Playin' them all night sessions
With the wild ones we called
friends,
And that music,
Bad news blues,
Funky jazz,
we saved the Freedom
for Sundays when Red Garland would show up,
A geniune orgy on a Sunday afternoon ,
players who were off the road,
looking for a little fun with the homeboys,
trading stories and licks,
Hot afternoons with cold beer
at half price,
barbeque shrimp for anyone who played . . .
No one was in church
until they started playing Maiden Voyage
Then that place was Holy spritual,
And it didn't hurt to flirt
in between songs
and be real good
on the set.

Hey little girl, wanna' sing with my band?
we could use someone like you who sounds good
and looks fine,
You know all the tunes,
At the Bluebird in Fort Worth,
come down Friday night, the manager's cool.
but you know there's fights
the Friday night rules ,
so dont bring nothin' we cant use
If ya' know what I mean . . .
I got It . . .Good
Yeah, I know the neighborhood,
Twelve bar blues,
back it down
I'm there.

Gifts

I know I need to learn to weave,
I need to finish the Coat of Many Colors
Mother started for me years ago.
She was so good at practical arts
and all I ever did was sing
Her efforts
were never fully appreciated
until her fingers had difficulty
moving through the yarn
And all I ever did was sing
She thought it frivolous
those duets with Daddy in the kitchen,
Our harmonies gave her no thrills
just worries
She kept on weaving,
And all I ever did was sing
I could write her a song,
And sing it,
while I begin learning
to weave,
And finish my Coat of Many Colors

Stay

Stay there in the sunshine just a moment, would you ?
I think I can catch your picture now
There. All gossamer and shining, that's you on this colorful day
Clarity. You have always been its' essence.
Confident. Aware and in tune with your gifts; certain.
Charming. Smiling wide and giving someone else a second of lightheartedness.
Calm. You have weathered huge storms and remained in control. I have seen you do this and I am sure I'll see it again
Can you wait overnight? I will get this developed.
You need to see this picture.

RED

Slashed
across the screen
a bold
crimson flash
interrupts
the movie
the movement
the story
of silvery Fortune.

Red rips cuts
through that thread
dangling delicately,
hanging,
holding
it all together,
this Fascination with Blood
destroys
the moonlit yarn woven in pieces for the film
Who are you
Scarlet?
You do not belong
to me,
Although I have read about you.
The pictures are mine
You drown them in your
Crimson Tide
I wash them in silver blue
NO customer
will ask
for his money back
for I
have assumed
the Risk
This is a Private screening
The Red Queen
was NOT invited
Ladies and Gentlemen:
This has been a technical difficulty.
We now resume our regular
programming.

The Show

Charismatic, Automatic
Reserved, tense
Striding in step on a stage
Impressing no one
Threating
No one was exempt from taxes, attacks
or defence
Far from civil this was pretense
we accept as political discussion,
Rehearsed, practiced
Presented as humane
We worry, we wonder if either gentleman
has a sane idea in his head.

Complicit in the discourse is the population at large
Livin' large
that's what it's all about,
So much for the concept of innocence
we gave up the right
to call ourselves anything but guilty
for watching The Show last night

Send Me

ME, who am about to look into the mirror for the first time
want to thank you for sending me the instructions
for living in these trying times.
I think they made more sense the first time I read them.
You do remember all those verses they made us recite?

Now, if you could just send me the mirror, mirror on the wall
you know, the one that belonged to the Stepmother
I would blow you kisses from across the miles
because I need to hear about how Fair I am.

A fair player of the game, giver of my gifts, lover of your soul
I want to hear the words from you because you have known me
longer
and better than anyone
So sweet thing, send me a letter, and proclaim
what I want to be true is so.

You have always sent me farther down the road, so much further down the road than I ever intended to go
and always . . . unexpectedly.

Certainly a letter isn't too much more to ask.
The asking for my soul is too much in trade, I'm just looking for a letter.
Fine, I 'll send you one first, and say all that I feel . . .
but YOU better send me
My Sam Cooke album

Meet Me In St.Louis, Kerry

Meet Me In St Louie
Kerry
Well,folks it was less
of an invitation than a showdown
Judy Garland
could have sung
But the timing
was all wrong
There were clowns though,
broadcast world wise.
In their quest for power in their Lust to decide,
Who lives,
who dies

They keep
coming back
these Champions of the People,
Pretending
they have answers to important questions
"So you think I could get this drug my wife needs?
I hear it's available in Canada . . ."
please don't tell me its all about protection.
You tell me I am grown up
enough to spend my money.
That is,
the little bit of it you let me keep
one week to the other,
All I wanna' do is run for cover,
'cause
you
guys
scare me.

No Regrets

Down for the count, baby
I got nowhere to go
all these lateral moves sure make it slow
moving
Onward and onward, what happened to up?
At least there is out,
I'm counting on it.

Just ran out of juice
or maybe
it was a loose
connection,
all the wires criss - crossed
Spit, spat - no spark
Can't drive without an engine
I'm stuck in park

I'll call that guy on Jump Street
He might be up
And able to show me
a map
So I can see that left turn
right
In front of me.

Pretending

Different shoes,
dancing the night into dawning
hanging out somewhere quiet
brought shades for morning
Different lines, different licks
Play 'em out, hear Stix
He plays with great feeling
listens with intention
Isn't it a miracle,
this stuff we call invention ?

Before we heard this jam we were
curious,
Now there is more space and time
in the universe
Perhaps we could do a step into a bar of 3/4
go on dancing,baby
I like it here
Like this rhythm,
keeps me turning
On the upside,
Different dimension
all our own,
Created by a Master,
Aw, Stix don't go home
It won't work without you
Its these ideas you give us
about being Alone,
and dancing
in Different shoes.

glisten

Falling tears
on Winter's snow
Shattered crystal
hearts of glass

Diamond rings
on silver mounts
churchbells chime
love will last

Paint It Black

A sudden shower
Black poppies explode in bloom
Dry and safe again



Blackout

Lights are out tonight

Its another Rebellion

Can't see for the Flames


Ebony

The winter sky shines
silent; reflecting moonlight
on my stony soul

Quick Take

Passing by
mirrored reflection,
Pushing through,
opposite direction,
Missed you.



Honey

Door bells and phone calls
intruders
in my day
Reserved for the sweetalk, that extra lovin'
I got things I wanna' say
to You and you only,
But make me a sandwich, honey.
I think there's baloney.


Make Me A Pallet

No, I didn't say wallet.
I ain't got no money, no way.
What I need is a little softness
between me and this hard floor,
And don't you worry none,
I'll find the door,
in the morning.

See, you're yawning,
you won't even know I'm here
Just make me a pallet
behind this chair
Swear on my Momma's . . .
heart,
I'll fold the blankets, and
disappear.

Re Take

Just another one
Faster than before
Let's grab this number
It's cookin'
I need another pass
Push the beat this time...
Nailed it.

Rough mix at six, okay ?
Thanks, my day is slammin'

Later...


Out the door and in the street,
Gotta' sing the next one,
No matter what it is
It cant blow that last jam,
Just a little extra.
A twist or turn that's...
burnin'
Quick . . .
Take It

Mix It Up

Hard core
I can dig it
Apple core
Too sweet and finished
At the core
Centered


Enough

Satiated ...?
Hell no !
You can never get enough.

I've had enough.
I'm up to here with driving ...with heirarchy...with rules
with protocol...with expectations, anticipations, computations...
Rulers.
Princesses, presidents, precedents, pomposity, pimps, and
pushy people.
I 've had enough diets, riots, sorbets, sodas, samples, sundaes, slouches,
and sloth.

I cannot get enough deep sleep, savory sex, soul songs, surround sound , Spiritual nutrition, dreams grown to Fruition,
BUT
I have enough woman's intuition for a Lifetime.

I cannot get enough stretching, yoga, pilates, breath, relaxation, quiet, peace or Night time.

I have had enough preaching, pontificating, promises, problems, and price tags
Way enough bills, weight gain, and whine.

I want enough Money, music, imagination, spontaneity, comfort, drive, laughter, lavender,
Love, Light, learning, concert dates, and Creativity for the rest of our Lifetime
together.
If not... Enough Already.