preview to "The Gospel Chariot" chapter 15

So… While the fired up congregation was seeking the little lost lamb of little Jerusalem, and while the deputy dog was sniffing and barking up the tree of the itinrate false prophet, and so as the psyched out sidekick was stumbling through the locust thicket - after having left open the gate to Chubby Davis’ goat pasture - while the local lowriders played forty dogs and dominos - and then again while the puppy was pouting and the deputy doubting what the prophet was spouting - while new crowds were assembling, into what was by then resembling a genuine artist's rendering of a free concert featurnig the Baldwin Sisters and the “Daughters of Eve” review. And while the preacher was mumbling while I myself I was fumbling - the whole experience being very humbling - Because I was the dumsumbich left the door cracked open.


Copyright © 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

Preview of "The Gospel Chariot"

....Back at the domicile upon gobsmacked six, the confusion was beginning to take concrete shape, like when Jello Instant pudding firms up and sets into blissful viscosity from liquid milk mixed with powder. The keyboard on the new laptop I’d bought to facilitate easier communication with the other side, was popping like Orvil Redenbacker - and the instant message box of the desktop soon revealed that all the saints in Haintville were upset that Isabella was nowhere to be found and that she was not answering repeated calls to come to around for a late night snack. It was to be a restless night - what with the pacing of the floors by the church hat and the closing of doors and the creaking and cracking and restless bed tossing by the CO-OP cap: but I suppose that’s rightfully as is to be expected in any haunted house situation ...

Copyright © 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

Concrete Lion

Stumbled up while on memory safari in the "picture drawer" in your Memphis apartment
Crinkled 8" x 10" glossy black & white Drama Club photo one corner dog-eared and bent
You - most handsome of a pair of concrete lions - guarding the pride on the steps at school
Statuesque feline harem all White Shoulders and Tussy fresh - embracing the morning's cool

Right here in my 21st Century hand - evidence beyond doubt of paradise here on earth
Chock full of good measure Seems like beauty oozes up from the Mississippi mud afterbirth
Each Southern Comfort wet-dream come-true kitten more alluring than the next in line
Implicit in each Judy Garland smile your life as her King Leo could be made near pure divine

Bobbie socks turned down to tease us for another two inches of peach fuzz porcelain glazed skin
Poodle skirts with saddle oxfords and cotton blouses shrouding waists oh so sugar wafer thin
That "genuine" silk scarf adorned by many so they told their Mommy - the latest fashion craze
But all the while an accessory strategic which veils a high hickey for a few short days

And you Dad, such catch by all considered - must have known for nearly ole time gospel truth
That half or more these bonnie belles should have given up their near about everything to you
Birthed your genetically perfect babies Enlarged her humble hips and spread your evening table
If she could just be your femme de la first choice - some time some way some how could be able

Arlene Johns or Betty Lou Sparks - always offering to help you study for you mid term tests
Here’s Dixie Leigh Harvey best - dressed junior jostling her coconut-contoured breasts
Caged all up in magnolia-bloom white and elastic - Such standing at attention-getters!
Playing peek-a-boo with me half century later Teasing through translucent argyle sweaters

Which dames here depicted? How many other poor sluts not captured and thus hereby shown
Mindful of you - your perfect hair on how many muggy cricket-chirp nights - as she would moan
While coaxing timid fingers into Tupelo honey Tempting her hopeful heart’s desire
or parked in your dad’s Rambler underneath sappy pines the air surround you both afire

Which ones settled down with what second-choice husbands once you seceded Serengeti?
Renounced the fertile delta and roamed toward preservation - some preacher school in Tennessee
Why beg to be excused from Eden’s early banquet table? Ambled off stalking more exotic lair
The scent thereby mislaid down which shadowed trail now strayed? Snatched in what secret snare?


Copyright © 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

'77 Songs (song lyric sort of thing)

I'm not saying I'm less than happy
about this sundae split in two
Not to imply I'm not content to be
in a big old lonely world with you

I'll not pretend I'm your provider
and I'm all right to tag along
I'm content to ride and let you drive
and sing your '77 songs

I'm only saying I don't deserve it
I'm just trying to say that's it's all you
You never did one single thing to hurt me
Stayed along and saw some hard times through

No I can't claim you were ever hateful
and I can't pretend I'd never lied
But I was never short of faithful
Fact is I never even even tried

I'm not suggesting that I'm in a hurry
Sometimes it's worth it just to wait
I just get nervous I don't worry
might get angry but I won't hate

I'm only saying I don't deserve it
I'm just trying to say that it's all you
You never did one single thing to hurt me
Stayed along and saw some hard times through


Copyright © 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

Lollygag

Would you mellow with me?
Could you yellow like chardonnay?
Wouldn't you like to have a seat?
Shouldn't think to be on your way

Will you ignore invention?
Let me ply you with lying lips
We'll lollygag less intention
I'll tingle every tip to tip

Won't you ferment with me?
Can take lifetimes to get just right
Perhaps it's partially ready
A few more yellow days and nights

Copyright © 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

Bewitched

In the blinking of an eye
Lost my equilibrium whenever you walked by
Scarcely could have been foreseen
Bewitched me when you twitched your nose at me

With the waving of a wand
Your "accio muchacho" took me away past fond
Upon the chiming of Big Ben
Sucked into a worm-hole opened up and let me in

At the closing of a door
Walked out upon whatever might have come before
Within the flicker of this candle
Let's stir up our very own little cause for scandal

Copyright © 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

Too Much Cotton (Tribute to Queer Eye for the Straight Guy)

Jump down: turn around
I'm wearing too much cotton
My eye for style and sharp profile
Guess I'd sorta' just forgotten

Stuck in a rut, with a bad hair cut
Sure could use a trip to Lanskey's
Some groom advice would be right nice
From them good ole' manly man-skies

I'm not fly but I'm your guy
Straight-focused never waivers
Just dress me up and take me out
You girls are some real life-savers

Copyright © 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

preview of "The Gospel Chariot" Part Two: "If a Devil's in the Way"

All was going well, Isabella and I were fixed in glorious trance state; spirit-gliding across the face of the Tennessee river bottoms and farm lands. We were leaving in our wake the blanched and dusty cotton fields of the Forkeedeer River and then the Piney River watersheds, as they gave begrudging leaway over to the rolling hills and wooded vastness of Natchez Trace State Park. In my minds ear I was kept hearing a voice humming, "So Long Marianne" and then later, "If It Be Your Will". For some reason I just couldn’t seem to shake the Leonard Cohen mojo for that entire stretch of the drive. We were "marching on to higher ground" with visions of promised habitations and oasis beyond the Tennessee River Valley in our heads. There were new vistas on the eastward horizon and there was balance on the slate - all old debts having been paid off and the old man sin having been laid off. All was in a harmonious flux - with the past year's sins having been rolled forward as was the manner - and a newfound optimism ruled supreme upon the day.

Copyrite © 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

http://www.thegospelchariot.blogspot.com

Rota Fortunae

Rota Fortunae thou most capricious of lovers
You've tickled me before with your fickle favors
Spinning yet another everyman in wheeled gyration
Constant only in turning - in change and variation

Wheel of Fortune spinning - lifted I climbed the clouds
En glorior elatus; once elevated then became proud
Until flipped once more spinning mortified thru descent
Only to be abandoned - and tortured as I repent

Our Lady Fortuna - who makes the mighty to mumble
Your charms captivate and us give cause to stumble
Evidence our heroes Samson, Nero, and Nebuchadnezzar
Great Alexander or magnanimous Julio Caesar

Lady of the wheel's turning - diminished I melt away
while yet another everyman will be exalted for today
Let he who is at the summit not neglect his goodly deeds
While status and well-being then compound his many needs

Lady Fortuna Rosa - glows in masked jealousy
She rides roughshod over every offered chivalry
Brought low - has she - many proud lord and king
And many to whom a heathen ruin did bring

Fortuna ever smiling hides detached behind a veil
Fortuna so beguiling - as she assures us all is well
Today then unapologetically turns treacherous tomorrow
So then out of happiness acquaints our everyman with sorrow


Copyright © 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

ON VISITING FLANNERY O'CONNOR'S GRAVE

ON VISITING FLANNERY
O'CONNOR'S GRAVE
Milledgeville, Ga., 1988

--MAXINE KUMIN

...but first, an historic detour just this side
of what the local intelligentsia
in fond self-deprecation call Mudville
to take the cart track up to Andalusia,
the family seat, a serene remove from town,
as in a good Victorian novel.

Here, from the first-floor bedroom window
even on those last dark days, she could see
her beloved peacocks pecking and fanning,
the tribe of philoprogenitive donkeys
ambling down to the farm pond in the meadow,
a grove of ancient pecan trees bending
to be picked. Not antebellum grand,
but commodious Andalusia, with real gardens
harrowed every spring with real manure,
so that it's touching but not surprising that
when Mary McCarthy remarked, years before,
she had come to think of the Eucharist as a symbol,
O'Connor, considerably put out
by lapsed Catholic rhetoric, flared,
"Well, if it's a symbol, to hell with it."
...

Not as I pictured her, enthroned
on high, fiercely Promethean
with eagles, say, or lions on the headstone --
but the square, unlandscaped family plot
sans even a drooping willow seems right.
Aligned with her father, three great-aunts opposite,
space for the mother who outlives her yet,
Flannery lies unadorned except by name
who breathed in fire and fed us on the flame.

[from Looking for Luck: Poems (W. W. Norton & Company, 1992), pp. 45-47]


submitted by Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

half-life

And so I blink and realize
a half life of nearly fifty five
Together in Tennessee with this incredible child

And rejoicing in such sweet climes
and dozens of soft landing lifetimes
Permitting lumps of sugar to sweeten up my karma

As if to offer such anointments
Could cover thousands disappointments
And many of them at her undeserved expense

So now in manic realization
Next weeks what 27th? Celebration?
Best go right now and buy two tickets to the Opry


Copyright © 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

Before Adam

Before Adam's first election
must have been the thought of Eve
Nothing less than pure perfections
should he so easily deceive

Before Cain fain claimed his brother
there was gain and thus defeat
Before Jacob conned his feeble father
and Issac took that bite to eat

Before Aaron's staff stretched fateful
when a night light led the way
Only then a remnant are found faithful
and just those few allowed to stay

Before Moses dreaded Zion's thunders
there were visions of how it ends
We kick the pricks against our blunders
and refuse half the help he sends


Copyright © 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

For Harper

Thrice blessed is she
Loved by her and him
and them and we
Until six times seven
is equal to forty-leven
We'll cherish this girl
She's our small slice of heaven

Copyrite © 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

Faulkner: On Technique and Style

... from "Light in August: A Study in Black and White" by Alwyn Berland

Faulkner was the the most ambitious writer of fiction in the twentieth century. He was a deliberate and devoted craftsman of structure and style in the great tradition of Henry James and William Conrad, both of whom he admired and by whose high standards he wished to be judged.

Distinguishing elements of Faulkner's Fiction:

1) Virtuosity in the innovative experimental use narrative and structure techniques
2) Stylistic mastery of a wide range of voices
3) Fecundity of immagination ( a Faulkner word )
4) Largeness of vision
5) Creation of a moral framework that both portray and evaluate human actions with a keen judgment that is tempered with compassion and humor
6) Creation of a fictional world in which social realisms are enhanced and sometimes transformed by a legend-creating and myth-making immagination.

Submitted 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

preview of "The Gospel Chariot" Part One: The great "Going Forward"

.....Well, wouldn’t you know it! As rarely yet occasionally happens in the Church: someone "responded to the gospel call" and "came forward" to receive water baptism for the remission of sins and to receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. One of deacon Parrish’s snot-nosed brats - (I’m sure at the insistence of his Momma the congregation’s ranking snoot) - had stepped up and "responded to the invitation"; a cause of great rejoicing for some and equally a cause to get restless for others - because the service would now be longer and we wouldn’t be able to beat the Baptists to the Piccadilly. And you could forget about hitting the buffet at Ryan’s Steak House - the danger being too great of becoming stampeded by van loads of the wildebeest COGIC faithful. - (Church of God in Christ: with world headquarters and ranking bishops holding court in the belly of the great Bluff City) Ravenously migrating out of the Sudan; be-decked on the first day of the Week in their finery and plumage - much of it bought on lay-away from Bert’s Men’s Store or Catherine’s Stout Shops in Memphis. A generous-hearted and gregarious albeit dangerous upwelling of brotherly and sisterly love - and fried foods. Working it Two plates per visit over in hot foods. Feeding as fellowship is the one mantra that most all brands of Christianity share.
"... and give us this day our daily fried chicken."



Copyrite © 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

William Faulkner on wasted time

"No, Not this. This does not matter. This is not anything yet. It all depends on what you do with it, afterward. With your self. With others." He looks at her, she does not look away. "Let him go. Send him away, daughter. You are probably not much more than half his age. But you have already outlived him twice over. He will never overtake you, catch up with you, because he has wasted too much time. And that too, his nothing, its as irremediable as you all. He can no more ever cast back and do, than you can cast back and undo."

William Faulkner "Light in August" Chapter 17

Submitted 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

The Second Ball

In soccer, at the taking of a "goal kick", whereby the ball is put back into play, by the attacking team from its own defensive end, there are two major mantras which are bandied about the field of play. The old school version is all about "first to", or being the first player to contest the ball in the air; all about going out and winning the first battle, and not allowing your opponent an easy "touch" on the ball.

The contemporary and more enlightened refrain is all about "winning the second ball" in recognition of the fact that the ball normally ricochets randomly from one of the two opponents trying to be "first to" the header, and that the player in the best position for the rebound will most likely control the ball.

Then again there is the "second bite of the cherry" bit, which is all about following up a team-mate's shot on goal, to take advantage of any bobbles or rebounds off the goalkeeper. Many a winning goal is scored in this very manner.

In baseball, it's usually that second time through the batting order before many runs are scored. That's when the pitcher is more likely to get into trouble; after the batters have had a look at his stuff and the base runners have timed his rhythm in coming to the plate. After his elbow has begun to complain, and the sun has set, no longer glaring in the eyes of the batters, who now have a better look at his release point.

In cooking, it is well recognized that certain dishes, like lasagna and spaghetti, or especially cheesecake often taste better as left-overs, after the culinary magic has had time to settle in. Only after the dish is placed center stage on a clean plate all by itself, and can be encountered apart from all the noises and excesses of a large meal, do the flavors sing out loud.

In courtships, it is more often than not, that second date when things begin to get interesting. After all the awkward first encounter yada-yada has been survived and both parties are a little more at ease and have a better idea of what is to be expected from each other and from themselves; a much more fertile ground for growth and development.

Second honey-moons often are more fun that the originals. It can take some couples a few years to learn how to travel effectively as a team; and to have seasoned a few years and have earned the right to travel to exotic places without wondering whatever it is that fickle Fortuna has in store for the two of them back home.

And where would many of us be without "second chances"? What would our lives look like today, had not some special someone been patient with one of our lesser selves? Many marriages only begin to take mature shape after some one or the other has foolishly ventured to see how much there really was to loose. There's even that cliche concept of "Renewing our Vows" these days which allows us a sort of "mulligan" on our misfired marriages.

Let your mind wander back to the first time you attempted to roller skate, to drive a stick shift, The first time your made brownies or made love in an actual bed. Think of your first wobbly times on a bicycle, your first mangled chords from a piano or guitar. First casts from a Zebco fishing reel, the first tosses of a softball, the first time you tried to tie your dad's necktie your apply your mom's make-up. How many? Really. Of the things that make our waking hours worth-while, do most of us ever get right the first time out?

Point is: If things don't work out like you had once choreographed for your life, don't give up just yet. Try whatever it is you are doing at least once more. and if that doesn't work, then try a second approach, and a second approach the second time, if needs.

Be ever vigilant for that second bite of the cherry; and concentrate upon winning the second ball. Even if you don't always succeed, your life will be that much richer from the effort and from the experiences.



Copyrite © 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One

The Decline of Man? / From William Faulkner's Nobel acceptance speech

... I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure; that when the last ding-dong of doom had clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure; he will prevail.
He is immortal, not because he alone among the creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capale of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past....

William Faulkner / Dec 10, 1950

....
Copyrite © 2010 Jerry Buckley / Voice of One