Rock and Roll Lullaby
It Was the Hexagram of the Heavens
So we grew up together
My mama-child and me
Now things were bad and she was scared
But whenever I would cry
She’d calm my fear and dry my tears
With a rock and roll lullaby –BJ
Maybe it started in the 40s, I don’t know. But the blues had a baby, and they named it rock and roll. Make allows swimmin. Scream and shout. Give peeves a chance. Dance what its all about. And she’d sing
Sha-na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na It’ll be all right. Like I really believed that shit. But I wanted to. The dry calm fears come as you realize all the people around you are saying Sha-na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na. Hey hay. Good pie.
Whatever it is that keeps me awake– it happened long ago. I got high and changed some diapers. Got a lawn to mow. Then you get old and useless and waiting around to die. The tears alone at night time now the rock and roll lullabye. It says be alright… hold on tight… punctuated by rhythmic distraction to the point of dreams. That’s it? Yeah that’s it. Life is hard… and then you die. Be alright. Hold on tight. There. It’s over.
Sham boom she boomers cut their fifties baby teeth and I held out until the eighties. I looked for a pony under all that shit and kept on paying Euphrates. Now pushing seventy fucking years old and they are waiting for me to bake a pie. Why do we still want to hear it…that lame-ass lullabye? Most of our brothers are sleeping now. Not really. They’re fucking dead. Flush out all the euphemisms and how was your day love you parrothead.
Flower blooming miracle mop and glow wit da flow. It’s time to pay that greek asshole again, and nobody seems to know country for old men. Far-off sixties serf music. That’s all we are today. We used to be heroes. Or so we would like to say. We ‘did too many beers and bong hits. We did too many people harm. Now we just an excuse to have a party when it’s time to sell the farm. Look at these old pictures. Did it not seem real?
OK. Here’s the deal. She is acting happy inside her handsome home. I’m flying in my taxi. Taking tips. Getting stoned.
waldopaper 
too wild for this world, too tame for mustangs -just hard that and didn’t want to leave a blank comment. Love ya
Whew….. and so I read this. And I’m thinking that all this music, all the star sightings, all the hexagrams and rivers and stories and explanations…. came….. from …….you. So, OK… Egghead. Let’s crack THIS on open. First of all, it’s excellent writing, naturally. You are good at that. You teach it, live it, create it. BUT, I am not lookin’ at just the writing. I’m looking at YOU, Egghead. You will all that smart stuff in you. Smart. Yeah, but it’s so smart, it’s denying the Other methinks. It isn’t US, is it. Is it? Question might be asked “who stuffed the turkey?” Who stuffed the egg. No so much “Who”… but how, or maybe the question is… IS it stuffed? Well, of course it is. It’s there. In your head. How come it’s different from what’s in my head? Just got lucky? hummm…. . You know what? I’m scared. I knew this would come. I could look forward to babies and gardens and vacations… but soon, too soon, “will come to an end too soon” just like you said. End. Hahaha… we don’t even know if we began. That’s the story we tell. “Once Upon a Time”, It all began “long long ago”. Our mamas told us…”Shhhhh, it’s all right. Daddy’s here. We are safe.” Yeah… who is keepin’ daddy safe? I wonder if we do. We keep daddy safe. We keep mama safe. Until we sit under the sky… under your stars. “How dark the night when there are no stars.” Dark is enough to contemplate. It’s all of nothing, everything. And we walk alone…. alone together. Together because we are all in this together. You, me, and sister makes three. And we added those loves along the way. Love doesn’t die either. Nothing is forgotten. Maybe nothing is remembered. It’s all right there waiting for us to be it. TAG… we’re it! Or not. Can we hold more than the duality in our earthly heads? I don’t think so very easily. But we can hold it in our souls, our being. We’re holding it right now, just thinking that maybe there is more than the duality of living and dying. The Indian I read said that tears and laughter are the same. He sort of scrunched duality and made a bawl out of it. No fair, it’s still two… or one… or does that make three: 2+1=3. Shit, the dog does better math than this. He just lifts his leg and marks the place, and goes on. I don’t want to piss on it. It’s life, and it’s good. Mistakes? Whoooaa, yeah — as Coralee would say… “Ah haves a-plenty”. She got a kick, a chuckle, bless her understanding heart, out of my lunch time passing more food, my overcompensation and embarrassment at my being a rich white child and her being the paid help. What could either of us know? I bet she made a lot of mistakes too. TAKE-BACKS!! Nope, not allowed. So, I rely on mama’s wisdom. “Forgive yourself. Forgive yourself and go on… and don’t do it again.” But mama, can I forgive myself if I DO do it again?? I think she’d frown and give me that “you know the answer to that one” look…. of course, yes, I do… yes, forgive myself again, and again, and go on again, and don’t do it again again. Or again again again. Man, if there IS a God in Heaven, what a job s/he has forgiving and all that with crazy hoomins. Today I realized that with kids it’s constantly redrawing the boundaries. Then, I realized with me, it’s constantly redrawing the boundaries. We’re Boomers. We’re old hippies. We’re good folk, Jeb. We don’t have to figure it out. We just have to come along for the ride. We just can stick our little wet noses out the window, and let our ears and jowls flap. Maybe we can pick up some sents. I need some sense. Does this make any sense? I just want for you to be happy. I met this pretty strange chic.. she’s about my age. She is the little sister of a guy I work with. He’s a teacher and a do-gooder. He makes movies — used to teach movies at Elmhurst, and does it as a not for profit.. fits it all neatly into a package with his job. Anyway, he loves the kids. And he helps in the soup kitchen, and yada yada, food drive, Johnny Appleseed festival, 3 Rivers Parade yada yada yaa… And he kind of has this Christian bent, let slip sort of a “went to church” comment once. So, I meet his sister. I think she’s a nice lady, but man, she’s a real for sure Polyanna… all soupy and happy and all about POSITIVE… So,we text on facebook a few times a week. We talk chit chat because she’s all about positive. I try to keep it light and positive. It kind of makes me gag, but it’s also an exercise. Can I do it? Thing is, in order to relate to her, I have to kind of surppress my quirky angst ridden side. And you know, it’s sort of weird. Probably I’ll not become a close friend. But she’s been shining this little bit of sunshine into my peephole. Why is that? Why do we meet some people who are sort of pains in the asses, but who flip our thinking, even if only for a moment. But in that moment we see something about our own lives. Maybe the same reason we learn from all the folks we meet. I suppose it’s that old existential question…. are YOU real? Wait.. am I real? Is this really happening? But do Syd and Toes even ASK that question? Somehow, we are equipped to ask it, and it’s just as important that we DO, as it is important that they don’t. So… not important at all… or, like the hairs on our heads, very important. But we WANNA KNOW !! waaaaaa!! How can we write if we don’t?? Maybe it’s like little Kevin in my class… he’s kind of a kid who ‘tests” at a 2nd grade cognitive level. He’s smart in ways they can’t test, but acts like a little kid and can be annoying and stubborn as hell. Kevin is there. Why? Dunno. But here he is and I have to deal with him every fucking single day… and it’s always something, sometimes very rewarding, sometimes I feel so inadequate I wanna walk out the front doors… a lot of times. Mistakes? ohhhhhyeah… maybe I’ve damaged his psyche with my banshee. Maybe I’ve tenderly touched him and connected. Probably likely more toward the negative, but not as horrible as I fear. SEEEEE, I’m doing it again. I’m analyzing this all because I want to be clear about it. Like Kevin, who obsesses over every remark, every little incident…. “I couldn’t because, but you said, I told you yesterday, I’m not going to do it….” Oh whateverrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, Kevin. Deep breath. What ELSE could I do with my time. In this gig, I make big bucks. But my heart is slowly going flat like a tire. And I don’t know anything. So, it comes down to this. You write amazing things. This one makes me sad because it FEELS like you are sad and you hurt so much, being lonely without Diana around. But there is a lot of love in this. And in that Lotta, I’m not so sad anymore. So back to the Egg.. the stuff in your/my head. What IS that…? I read the other day our brains don’t hold it all.. our bodies and “minds” have a great role in this. No one is waiting for YOU to die… we’re all waiting together. Just sometimes, a lot of times, it helps when someone talks about it. It helps when we can flip our heads upside down and see through our mouths or our chins. And that’s why I like reading your stuff. I’m the Chin Guy!! Yeah, I see it! Thanks, Jebbie. I love you. Robin, that’s all… just robin.
that is wonderfully funny Waldo, laughed out loud a couple of times reading that, still laughing at the thoughts…