From: intraphase@gmail.com

OCEANS IN THE SKY


It could’ve been just another night: every night seemed the
same back then, nothing new, nothing old; just boredom and the
trouble it brings. I fancied myself the leader of a great party
of Warriors, trekking through the known and the unknown. Wasn’t
really the case, but, sometimes when nothing was really bothering
me, or trying to eat up the last of my energies, it would almost
seem so. This particular night somebody rounded up the crew: we
we’re going looking for trouble, and hoping that trouble knew,
hoping that trouble, would come looking for us, until it was
trouble vs. trouble; the kind you have to see through.
My warriors always supplied the juice, it was the deal.
Tonight’s: a blood red maroon 72 Pontiac, premium hydroponics
cannabinol, smokes, few half twelve’s of cheap beer, and a ten
spot of high test gas, to kill the; “Might End Up Walking Blues.”
Yeah. We’re going looking for trouble. Hoping that trouble knows.
I always wondered, down the road and bye and bye, who got
lost that night. Did trouble take a wrong turn: did we take a
wrong turn, or; did we have more trouble with us than trouble was
willing to bid ...Hmm?


Came upon the State Park: was nothing of consequence, just a
big pile of rocks, people took a fancy to. Something they like to
invest with a sense of mystery, a sense of intrigue. What was it
really? Just a pile of rocks. Oh yeah, there was a special rock
up at the top of the pile that had a chiseled look to it; like an
old Indian that never came to grips with the White world.
They put swings up, back down in the parking lot and a
couple of picnic tables, for the sojourners who might have
misgauged their energies; or were to tuckered out to see the
grand and glorious marvel of The Chiseled Man. Plus a lot of
folks from the nearby city, having enjoyed the ten mile ride
through the country, with its clean airs and laid back feel;
would get to thinking... "Ahh ...Mabel, maybe it ain’t such a
good idea to be letting little Junior and Missy, go scampering
around on those jagged rocks, just so we can go look at some Old
Indian face, that a silly glacier from god knows when, went and
dumped here like a big huge; “Piece of Nothing."
Of course this suited me and my warriors just fine, we could
have the Man of Ancient Stone, all to ourselves. To a bid here
and a bid there; in between tokes and gulps of our chosen poisons
we’d watch the sunset, and chase any normal looking folks away,
with a glance at their females or a suggestive psychotic remark
or two, about how we needed to: “explore a new reality.”


The Doors - When The Musics Over
https://youtu.be/9uAzMqa-Qug

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)