{"id":2,"date":"2014-07-27T23:11:11","date_gmt":"2014-07-28T02:11:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/aerendel.ca\/aarchives\/?page_id=2"},"modified":"2014-08-12T01:01:43","modified_gmt":"2014-08-12T04:01:43","slug":"sample-page","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/aerendel.ca\/aarchives\/sample-page\/","title":{"rendered":"Aerendel Magazine Reprints"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

“History”<\/h2>\n
July 27, 2014<\/div>\n

(This is one of the first poems I saw of Jim’s and I was impressed, I’m not sure we ever included it in any of our hard copy editions, it was a bear to try to format then and it’s worse in html….)<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
———djo——<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
=====<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n

History<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
\n
\n

Walk the northern summer
\nabove an angry sea
\nlean out over the rocks
\nyour hair flowing regal
\nyour sweater almost forgotten
\nas the chill can\u2019t touch you now
\nyou\u2019re dreaming
\nof blond and bearded warriors
\nlaughing drunk
\nbragging of their adventures
\nto claim long awaited pleasures
\nfrom wild eyed women
\nspirits high and willing to wrestle
\nlong hours, days of loneliness, over<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/td>\n

\n
\n

Viking Princess
\nyour line disinherited
\nby ancient enemies
\nlong before the twentieth century
\nrevealed madness to the world\u2019s eyes
\nfires burn within you
\nyou\u2019re hungry for things
\nyou only feel
\nthrough fuzzy memories
\nno man can free you from your questions
\nBut what of this country
\nthis wind swept afternoon
\nare they not yours to love
\ndoesn\u2019t that lift your spirit<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

too long without a lover<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n
to help them celebrate this life<\/div>\n<\/td>\n
to comfort your ghost filled nights<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n\n\n\n
\n
\n

float languid above, away
\nfind a reason not to see
\nstand with your heart impaled
\nthe smoke behind your mind
\nmoves in ever tighter circles
\nreach for meaning ( for power and riches? )
\nstretch to own the sky
\ncall that cosmic consciousness?
\ncurse the devil
\nhe\u2019s you when you keep your heart and mind closed
\ndon\u2019t blame me for your losses<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

You\u2019ve been looking in the wrong direction<\/div>\n\n\n\n
<\/td>\n\n
you know love can go stagnant
\nturn to greed
\nwhen you try to keep it
\nall to yourself
\nwhen you value being loved
\nmore than loving
\nYou can\u2019t own anyone
\nyou may only know yourself
\nbut you\u2019ve been through a lot
\nand that breeds understanding
\nand understanding can
\nstop a war before the shooting starts
\nopen your heart
\nsomeone will touch you
\nsomething will free you<\/div>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n
live in the moment
\nturn your heart
\nto the sun<\/div>\n\n\n\n
<\/td>\n\n
I\u2019ll love you
\nin spite of your efforts
\nto block out the happiness
\nyou feel too guilty
\nto accept.<\/div>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n
\n

\u2026..Jim Wellington \u2026.( circa 1971? )<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

\n

Let\u2019s see if I can format this for Jim\u2026
\nSunday, July 27, 2014, 11:11 p.m.
\n—(trying to format poetry that was meant to have a visual impact as well as two voices that trade off- & I don’t think it worked here. I put it up in “Radio Free Earth News” and it worked there okay, here the tables I had to use are visibly outlined. I may have to edit that out in the settings…)
\n—(5:18 a.m. Monday, July 28, 2014: I edited the boxy stuff out of visual range by changing settings in the appearance\/mantra settings area of the dashboard. Now it indents the first line in each table cell. —Um, I suppose it could be worse…)
\n—(5:34 a.m. Monday, July 28, 2014: The line spacing isn’t working right. But like I said in the previous edit note, it could be worse. When Jim wakes up he’ll probably say it’s okay to leave this as is. —Or— We can put this together in DreamWeaver, take a screen shot and upload that as the poem?) (Check back later… ?)<\/p>\n

=============================================================================================================<\/p>\n

Saturday, August 2nd, 2014.<\/p>\n

((( We’ve been much better at posting this stuff at Radio Free Earth News than we have about copying it here. )))<\/p>\n

((( I should add a run-down about who posted what & when, but I’m not sure we have that information when it is posted \/ added to a ‘page’ and not posted on the ‘posts’ page, where internal editing stuff keeps track of when something was posted. )))<\/p>\n

{ Jim posted most of the following, I think, and complained about what a pain in the ‘dupah’ it was to keep the formatting right in a couple things: }<\/p>\n

{ ———djo——— }<\/p>\n

=====<\/p>\n

Aerendel Magazine<\/span><\/h2>\n

from Hard Copy Issue #2<\/span><\/h3>\n

=============<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n

Number 2 ( Volume 1 \u2013 Issue 2 )<\/p>\n<\/td>\n

<\/td>\n(Summer 1996)<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

==============================================================================<\/p>\n

=====<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Aerendel Magazine<\/span><\/h2>\n

from Hard Copy Issue #4<\/span><\/h3>\n

(Back when I tried to be cute and call it \u201cAERENDEL KUHL-tCHURAL REVIEW \u2014<\/span><\/h4>\n

(( thinkin that would be the way an illiterate might try to spell \u2018Cultural\u2019? ))<\/p>\n

and one of my friends asked me if I was a Nazi ?)<\/span><\/h4>\n

=============<\/span><\/p>\n

( Summer 1997 \u2013 Autumn 1997 )\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 (Not in the order anything appeared in the Magazine)<\/p>\n

=======================================================================<\/p>\n

\u00a0{ This was fun-\u00a0 the kind of Title page \u2013 explanation column you see in most magazines and this was our take on that: ———Jim }<\/p>\n

\n\n\n\n
<\/td>\n\n

AERENDEL KUHL-tCHURAL REVIEW<\/h3>\n

 <\/p>\n

PUBLISHER<\/h3>\n

The Aerendel Creative Cooperative
\n(Soon to be a legal Non-Profit Organization)<\/p>\n

EDITOR IN CHIEF<\/h3>\n

God<\/p>\n

This Issue\u2019s Managing Editor<\/h3>\n

Stanley Freeboingen<\/p>\n

This Issue\u2019s Poetry Editor<\/h3>\n

Jim Wellington<\/p>\n

This Issue\u2019s \u2018Reality and Politics\u2019 Editor<\/h3>\n

Trouble D. Phoxx<\/p>\n

On-Line Editor<\/h3>\n

( If we ever go \u2018On-Line\u2019 )
\nTjum Dao<\/p>\n

This Issue\u2019s Fiction Editor<\/h3>\n

dj otterson<\/p>\n

Resident Psycho-Cosmographer<\/h3>\n

Stanley Freeboingen<\/p>\n

Staff Writers<\/h3>\n

Tjum Dao
\nDJ Otterson
\nTrouble D Phoxx
\nJim Wellington
\nStanley Freeboingen<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n\n\n\n
<\/td>\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The Aerendel Kuhl-Tchural Review is (or will try to continue to be) published every once in a while by the Aerendel Creative Co-operative Writer\u2019s Workshop [with a Post Office Box address that we no longer pay for… in Milford, CT 06460,]
\nUnless otherwise noted, the Entire Contents of this issue of the Aerendel Kuhl-Tchural Review is Copyrighted\u00a0\u00a9 1997 by the Aerendel Creative Co-operative and in the name of Each Story\u2019s, Poem\u2019s or Article\u2019s Author. All Rights are Reserved.
\nThe Suggested Donation for a copy of the \u2018Kuhl-tChural Review\u2019 has been suggested at \u201cOne or two bucks a copy\u201d \u2014 Contributions ( if we ever cover expenses ) will be used to help struggling writers, authors and \u201cother creative individuals\u201d pay their bills and\/or improve their standard of living. )
\nSubscription Rates have been suggested at a rate of ten dollars\u2019 Donation for six issues.<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n<\/div>\n

===========<\/p>\n

\n\n\n\n
\n

Lost or Found?<\/em><\/h3>\n

one blinding flash<\/em>
\nshowed me all my blind spots<\/em>
\n(and yours) revealing<\/em>
\ntoo many darkened corners<\/em>
\nin my own mind<\/em><\/p>\n

I\u2019m frightened now<\/em>
\n no hand-me-down vision<\/em>
\n can help me close my eyes<\/em>
\n in any calm comfortable happy<\/em>
\n or safe<\/em>
\n world<\/em><\/p>\n

part of me<\/em>
\n has grown to search<\/em>
\n beyond your limits<\/em>
\n for things you<\/em>
\n never knew<\/em>
\n we needed<\/em>
\n \u00a0<\/em>
\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0dj otterson (4-7-82)<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n<\/div>\n

=====<\/div>\n
\n\n\n\n
YOU NEVER LEARNED<\/em>
\n (or: Is This cinematic accuracy?)<\/em>{ Did they jail Columbus<\/em>
\n for treating \u2018lowly natives\u2019<\/em>
\n almost as if<\/em>
\n they were equal to Spaniards<\/em>
\n (of \u2018Noble Blood\u2019)<\/em>
\n ?<\/em> It appears the \u2018powerful\u2019<\/em>
\n will always seek to destroy<\/em>
\n discredit and condemn<\/em>
\n to anonymity or public shame<\/em>
\n anyone<\/em>
\n whose ideas conflict with<\/em>
\n (and thereby threaten?)<\/em>
\n their own<\/em>I do not contest the notion<\/em>
\n that the (man) commissioned by Isabella<\/em>
\n had his flaws, neither do I argue<\/em>
\n this world is any better<\/em>
\n or worse<\/em>
\n than it might be<\/em>
\n had the Europeans<\/em>
\n never \u2018discovered\u2019<\/em>
\n this un-lost continent<\/em>
\n they later renamed \u2018America\u2019<\/em>
\n (unlike you<\/em>
\n I know I don\u2019t have<\/em>
\n \u2018God-like\u2019<\/em>
\n understanding of this<\/em>
\n mysterious and beautiful<\/em>
\n universe-)<\/em>I do believe<\/em>
\n I had ancestors<\/em>
\n here<\/em>
\n before ol\u2019 Christoforo<\/em>
\n argued the \u2019roundness\u2019<\/em>
\n of this sphere<\/em>
\n But- }<\/em>\u201cYou never learned<\/em>
\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0to speak<\/em>
\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0my language<\/em>
\n yet demand perfection<\/em>
\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0from my mastery<\/em>
\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0of yours<\/em>
\n You say you believe<\/em>
\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0in freedom and equality<\/em>
\n but, do you<\/em>
\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0perceive \u2018Nobility\u2019?<\/em>
\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0in the form of a selected few<\/em>
\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0whose reflections<\/em>
\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0remind you most nearly<\/em>
\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0of your own image?<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0dj otterson<\/em>
\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a030 june 1997<\/em><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

(more later, I have to go do something in the \u2018real world\u2019\u2014\u2013Jim)<\/em><\/p>\n

==================================================<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

{{{ Adding to \u201cCopied and Pasted from a Friend\u2019s Site Because he asked me to save a copy of a poem I\u2019d Liked\u201d : }}<\/p>\n

{{{{{ Aerendel Magazine was founded online by a friend I met in Ithaca, and refuses to fade away completely. Last weekend the founder emptied a storage unit his niece filled with stuff that had been stored in her step father\u2019s barn after her step father set his home on fire and blew his own brains out, never quite got over the cancer death of his long time spouse. Going through the stuff in the storage unit, the magazine\u2019s founder discovered stuff he\u2019d written way the bleep back in the sixties, seventies, eighties an nineties. He believes some of it might be worth reading. }}}}}<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

=======<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Tom Rush<\/a><\/h1>\n

(A Tribute To Tom Rush And Crazier, more Hope Filled Days \/ Daze)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

=====<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

( This Is To Tom Rush \/
\nBut That\u2019s Not A Title )<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve seen you reaching
\nto understand the feelings
\nof everyone around you,
\nlike you thoughts yours didn\u2019t matter,
\nyou remind me
\nof the things I like best in people<\/p>\n

People; we\u2019ve known our share
\n(pass the wine friend)
\nwe know that our heaviest burden
\nis that we care
\ntoo much for things
\nthat never give us a second thought,
\nwe\u2019re soldiers in a war
\nto bring love to our friends
\nwho fear it the most<\/p>\n

have to admit it though,
\nwe sure know how to live,
\nif livin is losin,
\nif livin is losin your soul
\ntwenty times a day
\n(tied off with a crumpled bow
\nand tossed) at the feet of the living
\nwhose dreams are bound to die
\nbefore their time<\/p>\n

they\u2019ll be back, Tom, the people
\nwhen their losing
\nbrings them to the questions
\nwe gave them answers for
\nwhen they were too young to ask,
\nwhen their breasts were new
\nand full of energy,
\nfull of idealism
\nthat told them
\nthe world was theirs<\/p>\n

they\u2019ll drag their heals
\nand feel their tears
\nand wonder about dying,
\nthe way we did,
\nbefore we saw them ready to fall
\nbefore we were ready
\nto fight all manner of gods
\nfor their happieness,
\nto strain every muscle
\nin our hearts
\nto keep them from crying<\/p>\n

pass the wine, Tom,
\nthe waiting is on us,
\nempty as a corpse.<\/p>\n

Jim Wellington (1971)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

=====<\/p>\n

(( I came home from work one morning, to an empty house. All my \u201chippy friends\u201d and house mates had gotten up early to zoom off to New Haven to the farmers\u2019 market.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d had a rough couple days, with a new friend named Richie, whose parents had kicked him out of their house- he\u2019d scored some really bad acid and spent a couple hours puking his brains out in our reassuring bathroom.<\/p>\n

-And a fifteen year old girl had wondered into the house, wide eyed and helpless, looking like somebody\u2019s perfect daughter, flawless skin, beautiful eyes, thin young body wearing bell bottoms and soft suede shoes, a tight tee shirt of brown textured material with a wide cut between her hinted at breasts- the tee shirt held closed by criss crossed shoe laced leather. Long straight dark hair, innocent brown eyes. She was just barely hanging on to her sanity after some idiot had given her a first taste of Lysergic Acid Diethalimide .25 and she was calmly trying not to explode into millions of fragments that might never come back together right. I managed to let he know we believed she mattered, she was a wonderful human being with better than infinite potential. She wanted to hold my hands and look into my eyes and absorb that truth and feel really good about herself and the universe that was coming together to save her from her parents\u2019 particular form of insanity. But that inrush of truth and beauty and hope and love threatened to explode her again. I think, somehow, I said something that had her laughing with joy and launched her bad trip into a much better field of exploration.<\/p>\n

And I had to go to work in the midst of all this, leave Annie surrounded by friends I trusted to stand back and stand guard to make sure she was safe and happy and learning as much positive information as possible without exploding all over the place\u2026 (a poster of Jimi Hendrix turned and looked at her and said, \u201cWhat are you doing? \u2026 What did I do?\u2026\u201d ) And Richie from Long Island finished puking his brains out and sat around for a while staring at a very frightening panorama of monstrous faces forming the air around him and later asked for a ride to the emergency room, and he survived- ((( a couple days later he was playing his guitar and teaching me licks from Pink Floyd and Jefferson Airplane\u2026 )))<\/p>\n

-But I was freakin drained, dealing with long haul truck drivers who told me my beard looked like their girl friend\u2019s private parts, and the clerk work at the trucking company office kept coming and never gave me a chance to sit down and catch my breath.<\/p>\n

-So I came home to our hippy beach house and put on my newish copy of Tom Rush- the album that starts with Driving Wheel. And I cranked it a little louder than I would if anybody was sleeping upstairs or on the couch or passed out half hugging the washing machine\u2026 life was that kind of an adventure\u2026.<\/p>\n

And I fried myself a couple brown eggs and got the toaster to work and found enough coffee left in the pot to bring it all together into one of the better breakfasts I\u2019d tried to cook myself\u2026<\/p>\n

And I sat down in the living room (in the mix-matched furniture that only looked right in a rented beach house)<\/p>\n

And the music filled the universe with magic- every note relaxed and soothed another part of me that I hadn\u2019t realized was on fire. And Tom\u2019s voice was the soul of compassion and I could see the old man with white hair sitting on a park bench, looking through fading eyes at a world worth loving, and I wanted to get up and dance to stuff my momma would have warned me I better not dance to, all night long. and I wanted to drop my guard and feel the pain of crazy people who had a lot more to offer than I\u2019d ever realized.<\/p>\n

Star Children from the other side of the universe were coming to earth and infiltrating our wild and crazy hippy get togethers and donating secret bits of love and wisdom and compassion and hope. And they were using unassuming genius folk singers to help them spread their message.<\/p>\n

I had to sit down and write the above poem, straining to feel and find the words that fit together just right<\/p>\n

I typed up two copies and gave one to Annie (the fifteen year old hope of my lost tribe\u2019s wildest uncontrollable generation)\u00a0 She kept a crumpled up copy with her and read it read many times after being used and abused by flower children and people who hated flower children. She went to a Tom Rush concert because of that poem and loved every second of it.<\/p>\n

And I thought I lost my last copy of that typewritten poem but found it yesterday in a stinkin mildew and mold ridden mess in a storage unit a family member had filled with stuff that my brother in law had not burned when he set his house and fire and blew his brains out, never getting over the loss of my sister to cancer\u2026.<\/p>\n

And the original is inside a plastic page protector and this copy will be saved on five or six hard drives and on the web in at least three sites.<\/p>\n

Yeah, life is still worth living. Even if the only wine I want is the spiritual kind that warms you to the core of our universal soul and spirit.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u2013Jim, July 12, 2014 (Full moon tonight) ))<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

=====<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I\u2019ve Seen A Lot Of Green<\/a><\/h1>\n

Posted by Jim \u2013 July 14th, 2014<\/p>\n

\n

I\u2019ve seen a lot of green things lately
\ngrowing, trimmed to fit a grasping
\nneed to feel our power over life
\nand cars still speed past my window
\nin a hurry to get to somewhere
\nthey\u2019ll probably wish they weren\u2019t
\nyet their noises sometimes call me
\nto follow as far as your door.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t ask me how I feel
\nI\u2019ll tell you, whenever something touches me
\nor reaches for my eyes or mind
\nsome complicated network
\nmade of things like telephone lines
\nsomehow pulls impressions
\nto a place where they\u2019re measured and
\nset in line with things that have
\nhappened
\nbefore.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t ask what turns me on
\nthe music that once filled me
\nechoes of small ideas and wasted energy
\nthough I\u2019m sick of reacting to things
\nI can\u2019t control
\nI\u2019m lazy and lagging
\nI want to start something
\nthat makes sense
\nbeyond all this
\nbut I\u2019m tired.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t ask me what I want
\nI\u2019m afraid to tell you
\nsomeone with soft hair
\nwhose eyes I wouldn\u2019t push
\naway from my mind, leaves
\nan image that won\u2019t let me think
\nto the time I\u2019ll stop my dreaming.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t ask me what I\u2019ve found
\nI\u2019ll skip over the rulers of darkness
\nand light
\nand mathematical formulas
\nthat can teach you why
\nthe Earth moves and grass grows
\nand forty thousand people a year
\nhave to die in cars;<\/p>\n

And I\u2019d tell you
\nI\u2019ve learned that I need her
\nHer!
\nand daily look for reasons
\nto make her laugh
\nwhich set aside
\nfears that keep my hand
\nfrom reaching for hers.<\/p>\n

Jim Wellington (4th try, August 24, 1971)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

=====<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

Swapping Old Poems<\/h1>\n
July 28, 2014<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
by<\/span> aerendel<\/a><\/span> <\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Monday, 28 July, 2014. -( 21\u02daC \/ 70\u02daF @ 11:00 pm in our neck of the woods. )-<\/p>\n

I think the following is actually the first poem that I\u2019d written that Doug ever saw. (it was not quite all the way out of the typewriter when Doug stumbled onto it.) (I hardly ever left stuff lying around like that where just any weirdo (( who would have had to been let in, or broken in, or invited \u2013 in this case )) could happen to glance the wrong way and realize I wrote poetry now and then. Most of the guys I worked with in those days would have respected the hell out of a porn writer, but would have stepped a couple steps back and wondered how far they were from the nearest door if they know I wasn\u2019t afraid to write poetry.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/td>\n\n

\u00a0\u201cGrey-Hounded\u201d<\/h2>\n

Evening
\nfrom a bus
\nsunset
\nand its many meanings
\n(armies of idiots smiling
\nblank
\nat something they know
\nbut couldn\u2019t understand)
\nwhile many of our good ford\u2019s cars
\nstring home with
\nhow many
\ntelephone wires for guides
\nto how many
\nfinite kitchens
\ndining rooms and
\nsmiling drunk barbecues and
\nback yards full of screaming kids and
\n\u201cEXIT 4 THREE MILES\u201d
\nwives who love
\n\u201cONE WAY\u201d
\nor nag, depending
\n\u201cGO RIGHT\u201d
\non how long
\n\u201cJUNCTION HWY 1 SOUTH\u201d
\ntheir marriage has lasted
\n\u201cNEXT EXIT 2 MILES\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014Jim Wellington (1970)<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

=====<\/p>\n

I had typed this on my old electric (suitcase model) portable typewriter. I don\u2019t remember the make or model, but I do remember it was light blue in colour.<\/p>\n

Both Doug and I were feeling dumped by our \u2018significant others\u2019 (but I had no idea at that time, that he\u2019d been married and forgot something on his way to work, came home to get it and caught his wife ((Now ex-wife)) emptying their house and about to run off \u201cwith a van full of crazies from some whacko California Evangelic Christian Commune\u201d with their daughter in tow. Doug, a security guard with a license to carry firearms, was in uniform with the gun on his hip and the crazies took off in a hurry. His wife ran out the back door and across a couple neighbours\u2019 back yards and jumped in the van and left the baby in her car seat on the kitchen table.) So Doug\u2019s suffering was a whole lot deeper and more profound than mine at the time. I hadn\u2019t had a clue.<\/p>\n

I also didn\u2019t realize he\u2019d read the piece of paper in the typewriter until a couple days later when he handed me one of his poems (and swore me to secrecy, the company he worked for might not trust a gun toting poet to guard their clients in those days ((1991-ish?)) )<\/p>\n

\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014Jim<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

=====<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I think this might be a song I tried to write on a piece of cardboard that came inside a new shirt. ———Jim——<\/p>\n

\u2014\u2013><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/td>\n\n

\u201cTo a Waterfall<\/strong>\u201c<\/span><\/h2>\n

You kept my love alive\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

Sometimes the slightest thought of you<\/span>
\n Could tear my crazy soul in two<\/span>
\n When I\u2019m<\/span> \u2014
\n too far gone to cry<\/span><\/p>\n

But you<\/span>
\n You kept my love alive<\/span>
\n You<\/span>
\n you kept my love<\/span>
\n alive<\/span><\/p>\n

I saw you<\/span>
\n in another time<\/span>
\n when I was lost<\/span>
\n inside my mind<\/span>
\n you shook me<\/span>
\n to my hidden roots<\/span>
\n and on that day<\/span>
\n my love came loose\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

Ah you\u2014<\/span>
\n you kept my soul alive<\/span>
\n you<\/span>
\n you kept my love<\/span>
\n alive<\/span><\/p>\n

The night sails away<\/span>
\n and time flashes free<\/span>
\n then the world of man<\/span>
\n took it all from me<\/span>
\n my dreams all died<\/span>
\n the world went mad<\/span>
\n I tried to believe<\/span>
\n I was all I had<\/span><\/p>\n

But you-<\/span>
\n you kept my soul alive<\/span>
\n you<\/span>
\n you kept my love<\/span>
\n alive<\/span><\/p>\n

I found my wings<\/span>
\n I loved the sky<\/span>
\n alone I flew<\/span>
\n I thought I knew why<\/span><\/p>\n

From time to time<\/span>
\n I looked your way<\/span>
\n I felt your tears<\/span>
\n and flew away<\/span><\/p>\n

The higher I flew<\/span>
\n the deeper I went<\/span>
\n the more I knew<\/span>
\n I was nowhere yet<\/span><\/p>\n

I watched you stumble<\/span>
\n I watched you fall<\/span>
\n You screamed in the night<\/span>
\n I heard it all<\/span><\/p>\n

And you-<\/span>
\n you held my fire for me-<\/span>
\n you\u2014<\/span>
\n you kept my love\u2014<\/span>
\n alive\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

I stood in the wind<\/span>
\n I heard life begin<\/span>
\n I watched through the rain<\/span>
\n closed my eyes to pain<\/span><\/p>\n

And you\u2014<\/span>
\n you kept my soul alive<\/span>
\n You\u2014<\/span>
\n you kept my love\u2014<\/span>
\n alive\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

a million years<\/span>
\n fall away in an instant<\/span>
\n and all the earth<\/span>
\n opens to my heart<\/span>
\n one word rushes in<\/span>
\n like a flood from a trumpet<\/span>
\n I see life end<\/span>
\n \u2014and start\u2014- Again<\/span><\/p>\n

And you-<\/span>
\n You kept my soul alive<\/span>
\n You<\/span>
\n you kept my dreams<\/span>
\n alive<\/span><\/p>\n

I knew you from a timeless dream<\/span>
\n I didn\u2019t know what you would mean<\/span>
\n to me<\/span>
\n I asked the sky<\/span>
\n what everything means<\/span>
\n -saw the universe die<\/span>
\n in one violent scream<\/span><\/p>\n

And you-<\/span>
\n you kept my love- alive<\/span>
\n You-<\/span>
\n you taught my soul<\/span>
\n to survive<\/span><\/p>\n

Out here where there\u2019s no life to be seen<\/span>
\n you die in your own ashes<\/span>
\n or live your own dream<\/span>
\n the dreams you resurrected<\/span>
\n led me straight to you<\/span>
\n I don\u2019t have to tell you<\/span>
\n that I didn\u2019t<\/span>
\n know what to do-<\/span><\/p>\n

But you\u2014<\/span>
\n you kept my soul alive<\/span>
\n you-<\/span>
\n you kept my love<\/span>
\n alive<\/span><\/p>\n

and me\u2014<\/span>
\n I was running from day to day<\/span>
\n feeling empty and starved<\/span>
\n I turned to you<\/span>
\n in the dark \u2013 no one there<\/span>
\n I closed my eyes<\/span>
\n and I saw you smile<\/span><\/p>\n

On the edge of a cliff I took the plunge<\/span>
\n through life and the cold<\/span>
\n past caution and fear<\/span>
\n to the bottom of the lake<\/span>
\n with no hope of ever<\/span>
\n reaching fresh air\u2026.<\/span>
\n But I rose somehow and I saw you<\/span>
\n there<\/span><\/p>\n

And you<\/span>
\n you laughed my soul Awake<\/span>
\n You\u2014<\/span>
\n You kept my love<\/span>
\n alive<\/span><\/p>\n

You needed me<\/span>
\n you know<\/span>
\n I needed you<\/span>
\n and, no-<\/span>
\n we were both afraid<\/span>
\n of fear<\/span>
\n we were terrified<\/span>
\n of love<\/span><\/p>\n

but you<\/span>
\n you took my hand and cried<\/span>
\n and you-<\/span>
\n you brought my love<\/span>
\n to life-<\/span><\/p>\n

and where?<\/span>
\n from deep inside you<\/span>
\n where?<\/span>
\n When you life was hell<\/span>
\n from where<\/span>
\n did you find the strength<\/span>
\n to try<\/span>
\n in a world so ungrateful<\/span>
\n why?<\/span>
\n cast your lot with the dying?<\/span>
\n why<\/span>
\n do we keep on trying?<\/span>
\n why<\/span>
\n when everyone\u2019s lying\u2013<\/span>
\n why<\/span>
\n did you look at me and smile?<\/span><\/p>\n

You might have saved both our lives with that smile-<\/span><\/p>\n

Times haven\u2019t changed<\/span>
\n they\u2019re getting worse<\/span>
\n you ask for a blessing<\/span>
\n they give you a curse<\/span>
\n all these lost crazy humans<\/span>
\n we\u2019re all dying of thirst<\/span>
\n and your brought them your water<\/span>
\n and a smile full of grace<\/span>
\n and the way that they thanked you<\/span>
\n was a slap in the face<\/span><\/p>\n

But you-<\/span>
\n you kept my dreams alive<\/span>
\n you-<\/span>
\n you kept my love<\/span>
\n alive<\/span><\/p>\n

I hear you crying<\/span>
\n once again in a dream<\/span>
\n your soul is on fire<\/span>
\n and your mind wants to scream<\/span>
\n your wings are unfolding<\/span>
\n there\u2019s a light in your eyes<\/span>
\n and I know you are ready<\/span>
\n for the view from the sky<\/span><\/p>\n

And You!<\/span>
\n You kept my soul alive<\/span>
\n you- you kept my dreams<\/span>
\n alive<\/span>
\n You!<\/span>
\n you taught my heart<\/span>
\n to survive<\/span>
\n You-<\/span>
\n make my pain feel like nothing<\/span>
\n You<\/span>
\n taught me magic is growing<\/span><\/p>\n

You!<\/span>
\n You kept my love<\/span>
\n Alive!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2026\u2026\u2026.Jim Wellington (duh- I think I started trying to write this in the early 70\u2019s and wrote it out in this form on that piece of shirt cardboard around 1989.)<\/p>\n

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\n{ This was the last of what was uploaded, copied here from Radio Free Earth News on Saturday, August 2, 2014 -8:37 pm EDST ———djo——— }<\/p>\n

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