Dust is Still Blowin’

Though the winds are still a blowin’ and the rich barre their doors We folks just keep a runnin’ out of tears in droves n’ scores N’ the beggars are all beggared there&#8217…

Source: Dust is Still Blowin’


3 thoughts on “Dust is Still Blowin’

  1. This my friend is wonderful. I hope you have put music go this. I have do enjoyed the past couple of days and the work you have put out. Your words and spirit are deeply missed. But some of the words puts this old mother hen to clucking and worrying about you. And I invoke that homesickness in you because I think at some point in time, we may have been twins or at the least, first cousins. As much as we roam, we at our core love where we are from and have the true nostalgia…look up the Greek origins of this word. It may snow tonight but in that little Creek at the foot of the hill, peepers are singing and mating and laying their eggs, secure in the coming of spring. Take care of you. Remain true.

    • I’m glad you enjoyed it. I really think this may be the best thing I’ve written, a rip from Woody Guthrie. I’m trying to find the self that seems to have been lost as of late, so crawling through my old scribbles has been like a little journey through time. That phrase, “you can never go home again,” seems to be repeating, but there’s little I can do about it. “Survive” and “return” are at odds here, but there’s that weariness of the traveler peaking through.

      I do believe you; we do seem to share so much, affinity and muse, and I do feel that connection. Trying to hide anything from you would be fruitless. 🙂

      And I wish I could say not to worry, though I wish you would not. I know you can read my ‘new’ words, and you know the sentiment. Next month the blossoms will bloom and I will lay beneath the fleeting beauty, knowing all that entails: beauty, death, and the hope and pain of rebirth.

      Kanzen, I’ve missed you. m(_ _)m

      • No, we can’t go home again except in dreams. But…we can go to new homes or, go to old homes in new ways. When I came back home South (different city different state), it took me awhile to settle because I had changed. And then I realized, I had not changed that much. I just needed to reclaim what I loved and hold it close to me and nurture again. It worked. Home again – new home, new me, new home, old me….some things do not change – and now with spring being sneaky, it seems like a spring of 20 years ago – trees full of small buds, 70F and sunny, cold and snowy the next….I discovered my precious cousin Billy has lung cancer – we were both born same mm/dd/yyyy, same hospital. My poem today reflects this in that mono no aware way…and of course I will worry about you and wish I could pat your back and pinch your (facial) cheeks.

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