One-Eyed Jack.

I’d welcome the stars with wine n’ guitars.

[cosmicamericancowboy]

Perhaps someday we’ll find out what we want. If so, we can’t help but get it. In the meantime, we must suck knowledge like cyanide from an ol’ peach pit. See you in the playground of the stars.

Until then, sound as ever,

— Gram.

[toseefarardenagain]

The Doors photographed at the original Hard Rock Cafe, 1969 by Henry Diltz.

[pattismithandrobertmapplethorpe]

Dennis Hopper by Robert Mapplethorpe

[undergroundrockpress-deactivate]

art: Ben Rubin

[feelsgoood]

[vintageeveryday]

Vintage Smoking Gals In Lingerie & Stockings

[1264doghouse]

Gram & Emmylou

[vandals-took-the-handle]

Daily Dylan 2023 - 204

By Barry Feinstein

[undergroundrockpress-deactivate]

Neil Young and Dennis Hopper on the set of Human Highway (1978) Photo by Caterine Milinaire.

[joegramoe]

Emmylou Harris and Guy Clark, Texas Songwriter

By Art Fein

[communistswithdogs]

Ernesto “Che” Guevara hugging a puppy dog, because rebels “must toughen themselves, without losing tenderness.”

[wedarkacademia]

“People need me. I fill them. If they can't see me for a while they get desperate, they get sick. But if I see them too often I get sick. It's hard to feed without getting fed.”

― Charles Bukowski, Love is a dog from hell

[joeinct]

Photo by Dave Jordano, 1970s

[emisoras]

Visit Original Link

[iapheth]

[joegramoe]

"We're talking some big rabbits. Bigger than a pig! The bigger the bunnier!"

[cosmicamericancowboy]

Lost, half-burned ode to my pepper-haired lover from long ago. Dated from backward n’ bent overmorrow.

“What I wouldn’t give to see your smile n’ run from it again.”

. . .

All I’ve known’s leavin’.

Leavin’ you, leavin’ what I know.

I take what the Lord reaps, n’ after the harvest, there ain’t time to sow.

Yet here I am.

The scorched souls you left, you brush with fire n’ whirl your torch for my tears to reflect. I’m callin’ your name.

Weak, pale boned, cryin’ with rhyme. — Go n’ give ‘em hell.

You by the dinin’ room table, head hung high n’ heart wrung dry,

Beat n’ battered by a loose lip’s moonshine lie.

While we bathe in wine, n’ listen to the whippoorwills grieve,

I start to bleed, narrow as the dark wind begins to seethe.

— Next to you in smoke, melancholy, n’ your homemade pecan pies. You’ve laid my head in your hands n’ I know your smile’s the closest to God’s forgiveness as I’m a-gonna’ get.

Meet me by the river where sinners wash themselves of sin,

Where transgressions run like snake-haired gypsies into our waterin’ holes.

Darlin’ Saturn, we’ve devoured God’s judgement. Livin’ with love only to be met with slaughter.

Ragged claws n’ tattered denim, wrapped in my dreams as you howl like a hound for the dance of heaven’s poisonous call.

I asked you to clip my wings n’ you plucked a feather n’ threw me to the sky.

— I breathe your indecision, n’ you swallow the key. Midnight’s creepin’ & we’ve done bit the hand that’s starved us.

Don’t want the sun, nor the roses that bathe in its brilliance. Don’t need the gospel, or the warmth of the burnin’ embers you forgot to put out. Don’t need the clothes on my back, the gun on the rack —

I’ve been sinkin’, Saturn.

N’ I don’t need to drown while I’m skippin’ like a stone,

I’m gettin’ caught in your seams,

— sittin’ in the endless ripples to call myself back home.

Run with me,

Run with the moon.

Y’know I’ll be gone ‘fore mornin’ come.

Far off into overmorrow, or a day come too soon.

Stay with me tonight.