Read My Lips - the blog

Standing on stumps or pulling them up?

This is from an email I received from OLDCATMAN:

THANKS FOR THE REVIEW, RE-REVIEW AND RECENT OLDCATMAN REFERENCE ....... FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE, YOUR BLOG SITE IS PART OF MY AM RITUAL ON THE COMPUTER ....... I WAS USING BLOGSPOT TO READ BLOGS BUT NOW I USE YOUR BLOG LINKS.

A SHORT AUTO-BIO .................. I'VE BEEN WRITING IN MY CURRENT STYLE EVER SINCE I CAN REMEMBER.. AND THAT GOES BACK TO WRITING IN GRAMMAR/HIGH SCHOOL.

I WAS BRIEFLY, A JOURNALISM MAJOR IN COLLEGE IN 1958 ........... YES, NOT ONLY DO I WRITE BRAIN FARTS BUT I AM AN ''OLD FART" TOO; 63!! TRULY, AN "OLD" CATMAN ............... TRAGICALLY, I AM WRITING MORE SINCE 060103 THAN IN ANY TIME PERIOD IN MY LIFE; TRAGICALLY, IN THE SENSE THAT I SHOULD HAVE PURSUED A WRITING CAREER ... ENDED UP IN A 45 YEAR HOSPITAL MANAGEMENT CAREER ..... AND NOW I'M A BLOG WRITING FARMER IN COLORADO .... HOW ONE'S WORLD TURNS AROUND. [emphasis supplied]

Actually, I was almost sure he was an older man, because his style of output reminds me a lot of what sort of stuff my own father was putting out on the Internet for people to read before he passed away. I still wish his site was up, but alas, he hosted it on his ISP. After his death, the account was closed for non-payment and the site was closed. However, thanks to my discovery of Internet Archive Wayback Machine I was able to run his old URL and found that some of his work is recoverable.

His opening remarks: Hello Friend! Thanks for stopping by. Here you will find some of the thoughts and philosophy of a man who has been down the lane, around the bend, across the creek, and through the woods many times. Please explore all my links and enjoy your stay.

I have found and saved almost all of his monthly "Rusty Rucker" columns and will post them from time to time. For now, I will allow you to read all the poetry he had written and posted to his web site.

I always thought he did such a great job on this poem:

By The Gun

Down the street comes a prancing red stallion,
Slowly and deliberately, to attract every stare,
His massive hooves puffing the powdery earth
Into tiny dust devils as he plants each with care.

The rider looks neither right nor left.
His youthful face expressing no sign
Of the turmoil boiling within, as he passes
In review for the bystander line.

A cool breeze brushes against his back.
A rare chill races from head to toe.
Sunlight glistens off silver trappings.
A vision of supremacy, master of the show.

His pearl-handled cannon, calibre 44,
Clings to his thigh, firm as a leech,
It has become a part of his being,
A warning to all, death within reach.

It boasts twelve notches, carved carefully,
So sharp, impressible eyes can count,
Completing a picture of doom and glory,
Framed in the glitter of rider and mount.

An aging marshall stands firmly.
All alone at the street's other end.
Like a tree he is rooted in position,
Waiting for the duel to begin.

The gunman dismounts and crouches,
Coiled like a tightly wound spring.
Death hovering beneath his fingertips.
To be unleashed in one awesome swing.

The brave marshall is placidly waiting,
His stomach hollow and throat dry,
To accept a challenge he can't win,
But the code demands that he try.

Lead hammers the lawman's vest,
His gun exploding as he fell.
Has the bullet gone wild or found its mark?
Someone in the crowd gives a yell.

Both men topple in sprawling disarray.
Each has done the thing that he must.
But, the long, gray shadow of dying
Passes swiftly over one in the dust.

Wounded and covered in crimson,
One single combatant survives.
He's walked the lonely valley once more
And emerged from its shadow alive.

The stallion stomps restlessly -- waiting.
His champion always set 'em up at the bar.
But, along about sundown he is stabled
By a bandaged old man with a dent in his star.

Copyright 1987 --Rusty Rucker [Charles W. Russell]

Other poems of his:

The Toy Train

Billy is sitting in the living room
Playing with his train on the floor
Waiting for Dad to come get him
He is anxiously watching the door
While the train go round and around
The wall clock is striking two now
Dad's running a little bit late...
Billy is all dressed and ready
And he's finding it quite hard to wait
Still the train goes round and around

The sound of a horn catches his ear
The boy jumps quickly to his feet
"Its Dad, I knew that he'd be here!"
But it's only a car on the street
And the train goes round and around

The time has crept to hour four
Billy begins to feel very sad
Just like all of the times previous
A little boy who's needing his Dad
Yet the train goes round and around

His Mom makes her entrance from the stairs
She's all dressed up to keep her date
Billy sadly watches her leave
He thinks, "Why couldn't HER date be late?"
And the train goes round and around

Billy watned to see a ball game
"That is what we'll do." Dad said
But like before he doesn't come
Billy is wishing that he were dead
But the train goes round and around
Grandmother comes in from the kitchen
She's bringing a batch of fried pies
Billy looks up at her slowly
Revealing pain and tears in his eyes
Still the train goes round and around

Grandmother sits, then pats her lap
The boy takes his place with her there
They feast on the tasty goodies
That Grandma has brought to share

While the train goes round and around

As the moon rests high in the sky
Mom tucks Billy into his bed
He leaves Dad out of his prayers...
Blesses Mamma and Grandma instead
And the world turns round and around

Copyright (C) 2001 --Rusty Rucker [Charles W. Russell]
__With help from my friend Kim [I regrettably do not know who this "Kim" is]

Feel the Burning

I feel a burning inside,
An almost unbearable pain,
The certainty of dreams forsaken
Mysteries I can never explain.
In the cool silence of night,
Comes the spirit of yearning and hope,
So full of life I can touch it,
When in utter darkness I grope.

The heart looks ever skyward
To the vastness of outer space
Beautiful and yet solitary
As is my love without a place.

It longs for a haven to share.
A second heart to entwine.
To beat as one forever,
But TRUE LOVE is hard to find.

(C) Copyright 1999 -- Rusty Rucker [Charles W. Russell]

WOLF - God's Own Dog

Howling high on a mountain top,
Sending shivers up my spine,
Stands a lonely sentinel
Calling to others of his kind.
The last of a vanishing breed.
His crime -- the need to eat.
His mate has a liter waiting,
For Dad to bring home some meat.

Ranchers say he's a threat
To the weak ones in their herd.
But to hunt him to extinction
Is meaningless and absurd.

A way has to be found for all
God's creatures to coexist.
To bring harmony and justice
To Wolves, and Gorillas in the mist.

So, before you condemn him,
Or shoot him -- even worse
Remember the Wolf, like Indians
Inhabited this land first.

(C) Copyright 1997 Rusty Rucker [Charles W. Russell]
Published 2000 "Reflections of Nature" [I am unsure where this publication exists or can be found]

To June

Hand in hand in the wedding chapel,
We stood together, you and I.
A picture of feminine lovliness
And a boy, so awkward and shy.
The homeymoon has never ended.
It's still special to hold you close.
When we kiss and you call me baby,
Is when I feel your love the most.

At times it hasn't been easy.
The hills have often been high.
But, we reached the top by sharing
Each other's load -- girl and guy.

The years have passed so quickly.
We've kept our vows to be true.
I promised to love you forever.
I have, I will, and I do.

Alva June Russell
June 8, 1935 -- July 23, 1999

(C) Copyright 1967 --Rusty Rucker [Charles W. Russell]
[ed. June was my mother, who passed away the year before my father, Charles]

Senses

Did you ever,
Watch the full Moon rise,
Into a gold sequined sky?
Hear the plaintive call of a Whip-o-will
Issuing its mournful cry?
Smell the Heavenly odor
Of Grandma's apple pie?
Taste the sugary lips
Of a girl so sweet and shy?
Hold her in your arms
As the night goes fleeting by?
These are the things I love.
Have you,
Heard the roar a waterfall
When sheets come cascading down?
Seen fish jumping in a lake
To feed on insects that abound?
Savored the fragrance of wet earth
As rain falls softly around?
Felt the pounding of a happy heart
Where untold joys are found?
Tasted sweet kisses from your honey
While you gently lay her down?
These are the things I love.

Have you,
Watched a field of golden grain
Shimmering in the summer breeze?
Heard the drone of working
>From a swarm of busy bees?
Walked along a sun warmed beah
And tasted salty mist from the sas?
Felt the tug of autumn's wind
As it swirls among the trees?
Enjoyed the perfume of passion
>From one always there to please?
These are the things I love.

(C) Copyright 1999 -- Rusty Rucker [Charles W. Russell]

This Girl

She is the one in Cyberspace
Who keeps messing with my heart.
I know I will never meet her
I've known that from the start.
She is the chick I met last night,
The winsome lass next door,
The foxy babe that I will find,
And those I've known before.

Fate has placed us miles apart.
With only Cupid to span the gap.
Yet, excitement in my beating
Heart did not foresee this trap.

Our connection is a bonding
That is impossible to explain.
We have touched not once,
But a thousand times in vain.

She dominates my dreams,
Both sleeping and awake.
Joins with me hand in hand
To places our fantasies take.

Our exchange is so frustrating,
The connection is going bad.
I shall remember her forever
As the love I never had.

(C)Copyright 1996 -- Rusty Rucker [Charles W. Russell]

My Best Friend

When I am down and feeling low
There is a place I can always go.
To visit the friend who is waiting there
If no one else does, I know she will care.
She'll give me a hug and a pat on the back
Make me feel better...she has the knack.
She'll boost my ego and prop up my pride
And make my tummy feel all tumbly inside.

(C) Copyright 1996 -- Rusty Rucker [Charles W. Russell]

My Mom

Nine months of carrying me
Around in her tummy
Where I wiggle and squirm
And kick like a dummy.
Then the day arrives
When I burst into the light
With flailing arms and crying.
I must be a sight.

But if she is disappointed
She expresses no sign
Holding me to her breast
I begin life devine.

I suckle and sleep
That's all I can do
But I learn to express
My comfort with coos.

She bathes me and tends me
While watching me grow
She wipes my nose
And tells me to BLOW.

She helps me to walk
And then to run.
And watches constantly
As I play in the sun.

She packs me a lunch
And sends me to school
Helps with my homework
My Mom is way cool.

She makes me wash behind ears
And Between my toes,
But relents when I beg
For fadish clothes.

Every year I grow bigger
And come to love her more.
She is my rock
To cherish and adore.

In light of what she does
It's only right that I say
"Tell your Mom you love her
And hug her EVERY DAY!"

(C)Copyright 1998 -- Rusty Rucker [Charles W. Russell]

Seniors

We delight in sports at high.
In college, we are young men.
But, the years rush swiftly by
And we become seniors again.
We dwell on memories of yesterday
And dream of times we have had.
All of the trials along our way,
Recalling the good and the bad.

We sit alone with nothing to do.
Until we hear a grandchild call,
"Pap-paw! I've come to see you."
Now is the best time of all.

(C) Copyright 1992 -- Rusty Rucker [Charles W. Russell]

Love Is

Love is a feeling so hazy
That we can never explain.
It makes us go wild and crazy
Really scrambles our brain.
It fills our being with wonder
That we are compeled to supress.
Shakes the earth with its thunder
An expression of pure happiness.

A smile or wink and a blown kiss
Makes our insides tumble about.
A hug between a lad and a miss
Is fuel to make both wanna shout.

So if you feel love coming on
There is only one place to start.
Let all your worries be gone,
And take it right to the heart.
(C) Copyright 1996 -- Rusty Rucker [Charles W. Russell]

Posted by Tiger at July 15, 2003 07:12 PM | TrackBack