When things get hard and dark, only the boxer prevails. Those who can throw a good,strong, straight punch, even more though..those who can take one to the jaw, stretch the neck, and step closer.
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@kevincolistra
When things get hard and dark, only the boxer prevails. Those who can throw a good,strong, straight punch, even more though..those who can take one to the jaw, stretch the neck, and step closer.
Arlo. A few weeks past his fifth birthday. Boxing is not written with words, yet it is beyond poetry...a clearness, conciseness. A young Nick Adams punching a Gatsby (one,two,one,two).
below. the eyes below. and so I fought. and 20 years still.yet rhymes and dark agree to find fists of soft words.
because i wrote poetry. in the active voice. and grammatically correct. and gave her the poem.
Our good friend and older/younger son owns a video company. He knows and loves West Virginia, and he used one of our songs for this video. I wrote this song one summer afternoon many years ago. I sat on the trail that runs behind Mario’s Fishbowl in Woodburn. I brought my guitar, as the air was nice, and wrote this looking down from 14 stories above Greenmont. I gave the words to Rita, she did the rest. Our good friend Kirk Popovich plays the bass and mandolin.
My first teaching job was at a residential treatment facility. The school was in the middle of hundreds of acres of pine trees outside of Pittsboro, NC.
The student/residents could earn free time for positive behavior, and many spent that time with me recording music. They would write raps, we recorded them, and the residents, directors, teachers, and counselors bought the cds for $1. One year, 68 or the 72 residents bought one even though only a few had music privileges. and $1 could buy a candy bar.
This song was written by one of my favorite students. He had it tougher than any/most will ever know or try to know. I hope he made it to the distant future.
then.catholic isborn. a power and the dark.
This was the first song Rita and I wrote together. We were living in an a-frame cabin outside of Durango, Colorado. There was a small back porch and a stream a few feet from the steps. We spent many fall evenings listening to Ralph Nader speeches that I recorded from the radio station I worked at, building fires, and playing music. We spent most of the fall like that. Then it began to snow and snow, and then it really snowed.
As a high school teacher, you sometimes meet incredible kids who leave this place too soon for reasons of their own.
This song was written about Glen. He was our landlord on Richwood Avenue, then turned(Ihope) into a good friend. I still remember some late afternoons in summer, just before you turn the lights on, when we would sit around and tell (well he would tell/ we would listen)stories,longstories. Years later, RitaandI moved back to Morgantown and bought the house next door. He passed weeks before we moved in.
Some songs take a long time to write. They come from an idea somewhere, and you try to find the right words to write. This song is not one of those. It was written in a few minutes one day.
It was recorded in my kid's closet on a snow day. I recorded a few banjo tracks over the original track of nylon-string guitar and voice.
Years ago, I taught 10th grade English at an Early College in Raleigh, North Carolina. It was a small school, and I got to know the students well. We would always talk about hip hop and rap. They tried to get me to appreciate Tupac, and I tried to get them to appreciate Gangstarr and Public Enemy.
One day we decided to create an after-school hip hop club and recorded an album of original music. This was one of my favorites on it. We recorded it in Audacity using an old headphone and mic combination. It's called D2in5 because the students received their high school diplomas and associate's degrees in five years.
I guess there comes a time in every man's life when he abandons ideas for love. Still,then,though love has a way of teaching much,much more than the best written idea hopes for.
This song was recorded last week in Garage Band. Morgantown was cold and snowy, and we had some extra time on our hands after WVU beat Oklahoma State in basketball. The percussion sound is from muffling the strings on a guitar, and there's a strange effect on a juice harp. It's pretty much a racket...