Night Riders                              

Walt Sample

                                       

Rattlesnake ridge midnight moonlight skyline     

Looked like an army of giant slash pine     

Slicin’ the bellies of purple iron clouds     

Freein’ the lightin’ to strike like steel plows     

Thunder shook the cabin like a cannon ball     

Silver ghosts flashed fear across the wall     

Couldn’t hide from rage outside the window     

‘Cause Daddy wouldn’t let us sleep with a pillow     

We slept on our arms so we could hear    

Night rider’s chains of fear     

Satan’s spider’s     

Night riders’     

White capped devils try to scare us dead     

Eyes fire burnin’ sow pig red     

Hell hound hoof beats silent under the squall     

Stormy nights most dangerous of all     

We slept on our arms so we could hear    

Night rider’s chains of fear     

Satan’s spider’s     

Night riders’   

I turned on the TV while I was eating a bowl of Grape Nuts a few mornings ago.

Hate to eat alone.

The news was on and there was a panel discussing the Confederate battle flag.

A black gentleman made a few comments and then said "My great Grandmother had to sleep without a pillow when she was a little girl so she could have a better chance of hearing Night Riders coming." That stuck with me so I googled Night Riders and am still stunned at my research. 

Right after the Civil War Night Riders tried to stop northern migration by inciting fear and intimidation. Just what I thought then I read on. The tactic was used in these "wars" also- tobacco wars, cotton wars, land grabbing wars, water wars, coal wars and on it goes.

Gang intimidation is not limited to the USA. 

Night Riders appear in many countries histories.

Nor is the tactic limited to only "bad guys".

My two cents on the Confederate flag issue.

The flag should not be flown on any public/government/state property.

By default, a free country will be packed full of things that are offensive to many people. But, they do not belong on flag poles cemented on public property.

I’m not a religious person but

Chen Chen   

God sent an angel. One of his least qualified, though. Fluent only in

Lemme get back to you. The angel sounded like me, early twenties, 

unpaid interning. Proficient in fetching coffee, sending super

vague emails. It got so bad God personally had to speak to me. 

This was annoying because I’m not a religious person. I thought 

I’d made this clear to God by reading Harry Potter & not attending

church except for gay weddings. God did not listen to me. God is

not a good listener. I said Stop it please, I’ll give you wedding cake, 

money, candy, marijuana. Go talk to married people, politicians,

children, reality TV stars. I’ll even set up a booth for you,

then everyone who wants to talk to you can do so

without the stuffy house of worship, the stuffier middlemen,

& the football blimps that accidentally intercept prayers

on their way to heaven. I’ll keep the booth decorations simple

but attractive: stickers of angels & cats, because I’m not religious

but didn’t people worship cats? Thing is, God couldn’t take a hint. 

My doctor said to eat an apple every day. My best friend said to stop 

sleeping with guys with messiah complexes. My mother said she is 

pretty sure she had sex with my father so I can’t be some new 

Asian Jesus. I tried to enrage God by saying things like When I asked 

my mother about you, she was in the middle of making dinner

so she just said Too busy. I tried to confuse God by saying I am 

a made-up dinosaur & a real dinosaur & who knows maybe 

I love you, but then God ended up relating to me. God said I am

a good dinosaur but also sort of evil & sometimes loving no one. 

It rained & we stayed inside. Played a few rounds of backgammon. 

We used our indoor voices. It got so quiet I asked God 

about the afterlife. Its existence, human continued existence.

He said Oh. That. Then sent his angel again. Who said Ummmmmmm.

I never heard from God or his rookie angel after that. I miss them.

Like creatures I made up or found in a book, then got to know a bit.

Joni Mitchell is the undisputed Queen of songwriters.

The Hissing Of Summer Lawns is just one of her many jewels.

Wishing her a full recovery.

Here is yesterday's update from her website-

Joni did in fact suffer an aneurysm. However, details that have emerged in the past few days are mostly speculative. The truth is that Joni is speaking, and she’s speaking well. She is not walking yet, but she will be in the near future as she is undergoing daily therapies. She is resting comfortably in her own home and she’s getting better each day. A full recovery is expected.

The Hissing Of Summer Lawns

Joni Mitchell   

He bought her a diamond for her throat

He put her in a ranch house on a hill

She could see the valley barbecues

From her window sill

See the blue pools in the squinting sun

Hear the hissing of summer lawns

He put up a barbed wire fence

To keep out the unknown

And on every metal thorn

Just a little blood of his own

She patrols that fence of his

To a latin drum

And the hissing of summer lawns

Darkness

Wonder makes it easy

Darkness

With a joyful mask

Darkness

Tube's gone darkness darkness darkness

No color no contrast

A diamond dog

Carrying a cup and a cane

Looking through a double glass

Looking at too much pride and too much shame

There's a black fly buzzing

There's a heat wave burning in her master's voice

The hissing of summer lawns

He gave her his darkness to regret

And good reason to quit him

He gave her a roomful of Chippendale

That nobody sits in

Still she stays with a love of some kind

It's the lady's choice

The hissing of summer lawns

Check it out-

https://youtu.be/ejORU9R3rAo

Went to bed with zero chance of rain today.

Tons of stuff to do outside!

Woke up to familiar pitter patter rhythm.

All These Songs About Rain
Gary Allen

Well this town has closed down way too early and there’s nothing to do
So I’m drivin’ around in circles and I’m thinkin’ about you
Today I heard you got a new last name
Sure didn’t know it was gonna hit me this way
And the radio just keeps on playin all these songs about rain

Now there’s all kinds of songs about babies and love that goes right
But for some unknown reason nobody wants to play them tonight
Hey I hope its sunny wherever you are
That’s sure not the picture tonight in my car
And it sure ain’t easin’ my pain all these songs

Like rainy night in Georgia
Kentucky rain
Here comes that rainy day feelin’ again
Blues eyes cryin’ in the early mornin’ rain
They go on and on, and there’s no two the same
Oh it would be easy to blame all these songs about rain

Well I thought I was over you but I guess maybe I’m not
When I let you go looks like lonely was all that I got
Guess I’ll never know what could have been
Sure not helping this mood that I’m in
And the radio just keeps on playin’ all these songs about rain

Like rainy night in Georgia
Kentucky rain
Here comes that rainy day feelin’ again
Blue eyes cryin’ in the early mornin’ rain
They go on and on and there’s no two the same
Oh how I wish I could blame all these songs about rain

All these songs about rain


check it out
https://youtu.be/iEkQGa_O5tU

Sadly, talking is becoming a thing of the past.

Even with all of our modern conveniences, 

that are supposed to make life easier, 

we don't have time to talk.

A Time To Talk

 Robert Frost

When a friend calls to me from the road

And slows his horse to a meaning walk,

I don’t stand still and look around

On all the hills I haven’t hoed,

And shout from where I am, ‘What is it?’

No, not as there is a time talk.

I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,

Blade-end up and five feet tall,

And plod: I go up to the stone wall

For a friendly visit.

Storms all night left me in a sleepless silly state of mind.

I am buffaloed.

Follower 

Seamus Heaney 

My father worked with a horse-plough,

His shoulders globed like a full sail strung

Between the shafts and the furrow.

The horses strained at his clicking tongue.

An expert. He would set the wing

And fit the bright steel-pointed sock.

The sod rolled over without breaking.

At the headrig, with a single pluck

Of reins, the sweating team turned round

And back into the land. His eye

Narrowed and angled at the ground,

Mapping the furrow exactly.

I stumbled in his hobnailed wake,

Fell sometimes on the polished sod;

Sometimes he rode me on his back

Dipping and rising to his plod

I wanted to grow up and plough,

To close one eye, stiffen my arm.

All I ever did was follow

In his broad shadow round the farm.

I was a nuisance, tripping, falling,

Yapping always. But today

It is my father who keeps stumbling

Behind me, and will not go away.