Nightbirde- Brave…



One— We loved the Spring days,

we loved the dancing with Lake St. Clair on a April Spring morning.

When you hugged me tightly and you whispered to me.

I love you.

I knew. I had everything I needed.

I saw everything in your eyes.

I saw the rising sun, I saw the laughing moon and I saw the dancing stars.

I was brave in heart with your gentle fingers intertwining with hands.

You made me believe. Life was okay.

Two— Dear Nightbirde. I am sending a prayer to you.

You left my world and I hope you are dancing and singing with your Jesus, in heaven.

I remember you dear Jane. You taught me.

I was okay.

We do miss you dear Nightbirde.

We need more kind people, we need more strong people.

We must seek happiness in the messy world.

Maybe one day, I can sit at…

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Fucking crazy…


Fucking crazy…

One— I loved the saddest women in the taverns.

They have nothing to lose or gain.

The angry ladies make me smile and they love me.

They knew, we were soulmates on the highway to hell.

Sin, gin and jazz bring the defeated together.

I remember a gal name Jen. She wanted nothing and she wanted everything.

Her beautiful brown eyes filled with anger and disappointment.

I told her. We are fucking crazy. Drinking and dancing too close to each other with the jazz.

We are seeking beautiful in the ugly world.

Jen smiled and she told me. Johnnie, Johnnie. We, who are low, low down in the shit.

We learn to accept less and I do like your face. Filled with the need of sin, more gin and you love the jazz.

two— Naked we are and we never show our real face.

Once we believed in…

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Ghosts, nightmares and dead ends…


Ghosts, nightmares and dead ends…

One— I ordered one more Bloody Mary from my one arm bartender. He is the best bartender in Texas. His drinks, like ambrosia for the sleeping mind. I told him. You are the greatest and he would tell me. Johnnie, drink less, dance more. Seek a pretty Texas gal, laugh and sing tonight. No-one wants a crying man.

Pretty Abigail, a Texas beauty wearing short dress, tank top and cowboy boots asked me. Are you writing and drinking tonight? Or brave enough to waltz with me tonight. I looked into her wild eyes, I adored her beautiful face and I told her. You make me smile dear Abigail. If you allow me to join you in the dance with you. I would be honored. She smiled and she told me. Ghosts, nightmares and dead ends must be erased by the Texas sun, the Texas two-step…

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Like a river, going to the sea…


Like a river, going to the sea…

I am following the moving river and I can smell the sea in the air. I decided I was a prisoner in a mess-up prison. I needed quiet and I needed the ocean. I carry in my back-pack. Jack London book, “When Gods laugh” and Hemingway “A moveable feast”. I also carried my chess board and bottles of Black Velvet. A tent and sleeping bag also.

I found Big Sur and I walked the path to Pfeiffer beach. Holy place for writers, musicians and painters. I decided to write my novel. Big Sur, an land touched by God. The sea, stormy, beautiful and dangerous. A Jack Kerouac nightmare and my place of peace.

The days are warm and the night can be chilly. It is okay. The Black Velvet whiskey will keep me warm in the night and the restaurant at the River…

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We are, what we leave behind…

Come And Enjoy This From John!!!


We are, what we leave behind.

I remember the most beautiful woman I have ever known. She was a Ojibwa woman who lost everything and she kept her human emotions of kindness and love. I remember she allowed no-one to imprison me and she would take me to the parks, the forest and the water.

I didn’t see the sadness in her eyes till I was older. She told me once. When I was six years old. The government took me from my home, cut my hair, change my name and I wasn’t allowed to speak my language. I never saw my parent again. With sad eyes, she told me. I don’t hold hate. I forgave them, but I remember everything.

She would sing Ojibwa chants for me and my sister. We would dance in circles for her. She would laugh and smile. We were her Spring wildflowers, she wanted…

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If I could turn back time, I would…

Come And Enjoy This From John!!!


If I could turn back time, I would…..

I called beautiful Brigitte at 3 am and I awoke her up inBöblingenin the early Fall of 1981, Germany. She answered with a gentle and sweet voice. Hello dearest Johnnie. Are you remembering me tonight? I told her. I was reading your letters tonight and I need you near. Do you miss me, like I miss you?

Brigitte held silence for a minute and she whispered. Come back to me in Germany. I have a apartment near the lake inBöblingen. I have a large bathtub and I need you to wash my hair and read poetry to me. The tub is large and you can join me now. The great ocean isn’t what is separating us. You must be brave, cross the sea and I would keep you warm and safe.

I told her. You saved me so often and I owe…

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Enigmas Thoughts

Just a steel town girl on a Saturday night
Lookin’ for the fight of her life
In the real-time world no one sees her at all
They all say she’s crazy

Locking rhythms to the beat of her heart
Changing movement into light
She has danced into the danger zone
When the dancer becomes the dance

It can cut you like a knife, if the gift becomes the fire
On a wire between will and what will be

She’s a maniac, maniac on the floor
And she’s dancing like she’s never danced before
She’s a maniac, maniac on the floor
And she’s dancing like she’s never danced before

On the ice-blue line of insanity is a place most never see
It’s a hard-won place of mystery touch it, but can’t hold it
You work all your life for that
Moment in time, it could come or pass you by

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Escapril: An odd number of…


there is an odd number of days in the year
not much of an observation, i know

but, the thing is

a year is more than the sum of the days
it’s more than three hundred and sixty five (and a quarter)

but where did this time go?

last year, I was… what?

running up the clock on a thesis
kissing goodbye to mountain dreams
and looking into a life that didn’t move five miles

i might be exaggerating, it could have been thirty

last year, I was…

well, it doesn’t matter
because this year, it’s differnet
(and we always say that)

but April last year, and the year before, and the year before?

time is funny, it makes us forget the big things, and remember the small stuff
falling into lamp posts
tying our hair into bows
dancing the same damn song
over and over and over,
and never…

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