#johnny cash poetry

[blacksailsart]

„And then I see a darkness..“

The artists spirit both a gift and curse when it is given, when creativity through loneliness and sorrows is driven. Not a decision, nothing you can choose to be or try to become. It’s given by birth and by death it is gone.

[haikumixtape]

[randomrichards]

JUNE (2024):

The country singer

With family legacy

Love of Johnny Cash

[gtunesmiff]

WEDNESDAY'S WEEKLY POETRY PROMTS: 6/5/24 ~ STEVE McQUEEN

STEVE McQUEEN © 2024 - G. Smith (BMI) =================== Some folks wanted a Lincoln, Some a Cadillac; Granddaddy wanted a Chrysler New Yorker, Long and shiny and black. Me? I was not yet in my tweens, And I was jealous of Steve McQueen, Running and gunning in his Bullitt green, Mustang… Yeah, Mustang.

Back in high school, Chris had an Opel, And Rodney had a yellow Chevelle, Foot on the gas, it would really haul – buns… Man it was hotter’n, well…

Chip had crisp white Vega; Scott had a two-forty Z… I got to drive Dad’s light blue Maverick – When he let me borrow the keys.

Some guys wanted a Corvette, Some a GTO, Others wanted a Firebird, Something with get-up and go. I got my license when I turned sixteen, Still so jealous of Steve McQueen, Racing and chasing in his Bullitt green, Mustang… Yeah, Mustang.

I usually drove the family wagon, Chauffeuring my sister and brothers; Fake wood siding, big as a barge – Obviously my mother’s.

My first car was a Hulk-colored Rabbit, Old, but new to me; And nothing feels like your own wheels, Rolling and riding and running free.

Alan Jackson has a fifty-five T-Bird; Johnny Cash built a Caddy one-piece at-a-time; Kathy Mattea loved her four-fifty-five, But the only car I wish was mine, Is the prettiest one that I’ve ever seen, It still makes me jealous of Steve McQueen, Flying in the sky in his Bullitt green, Mustang… Yeah, Mustang.

He may’ve jumped the fence in the Great Escape, In Le Mans, driven a Porsche; And as one of the Magnificent Seven, He even rode a horse; He might’ve been a famous actor Up on the silver screen, I’m just envious of Steve McQueen’s Muscular manly, Bullitt Green, Mustang… Yeah… Mustang… Bullitt Green, Mustang.

[cigarretteluvr]

i used to love this little oasis of a town

just outside of the cries of torches and pitchforks

are eucalyptus trees and a river rushing as loud as laughter

where we could kiss under skyfall

but folsom just feels like one big prison now

for the ghosts of us that had it all

[dasis]

I hurt myself today To see if I still feel I focus on the pain The only thing that's real

The needle tears a hole The old familiar sting Try to kill it all away But I remember everything

What have I become? My sweetest friend Everyone I know goes away In the end

And you could have it all My empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns Upon my liar's chair Full of broken thoughts I cannot repair

Beneath the stains of time The feelings disappear You are someone else I'm still right here

What have I become? My sweetest friend Everyone I know goes away In the end

And you could have it all My empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt

If I could start again A million miles away I would keep myself I would find a way

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: פורר טל / Reznor,michael Trent

[bennettmarko]

There’s trouble on the mountain

And the valley’s full of smoke

There’s crying on the mountain

And again the same heart broke.

The lights are on past midnite

The curtains closed all day

There’s trouble on the mountain

The valley people say.

- Johnny Cash, California Poem, 1966

[a-wild-things-rambles]

my drafts count has gone up by 6 but shout out to good american country for hitting most the spots of my complicated ass identity and standing in this world. it fuking sucks that i have barely anything that speaks true from people who actualy lived my spesific intersection, but anything that speaks to that, even if its from across ocean, means so much to me.

solidarity my far away friends, fuck the pigs and fuck the businessman and keep walkin these paths, they can make us suffer but they will never truely know the softness of the summer evening air, they will never know what it means to be truly free, even with all the weight the world puts on our shoulders.

[pageofcoins]

absolutely no one asked for this

hurt-johnny cash (i know it's nin, but also no it's not)//right where you left me-taylor swift//my tears ricochet-taylor swift//exile-taylor swift//castles crumbling-taylor swift ft. hayley williams//this is me trying-taylor swift//renegade-big red machine ft. taylor swift

[coyotepoet]

Payment due..

Payment due my friend  I sat daily by the Lake St. Clair lake, I watched the boats go by and I wrote and read. I drank coffee and I fell into Jack London, Kosinski and the words of Donne. I always had my chess board with me. I have befriended the walkers and the runners. They called my the Lake St. Clair poet. One day a young man sat with me and he asked me. “Can bad deeds and sins be forgiven?…

[nomadman108]

Let Me Tell You a Story: It's a Good One!

Has anyone seen Walk the Line? It’s a great movie that tells the story (or a version thereof) of the life of Johnny Cash. Yes, I know: not everyone is into country music. This movie, however, is an intriguing insight into the life and work of a  gifted but troubled artist. He was a prolific and inspired singer and songwriter. There is a scene in the movie in which Johnny is about ten or so. He’s…

[sugarmusicnews]

The Blowtorch Poetry of Piet Botha

by Brian Currin Thanks to Carina Laubscher for the phrase “blowtorch poetry” which she coined in her review of the CD launch for ‘Die Mamba‘. Piet Botha, a good friend of mine, possessed a poetic prowess that could sear into the very depths of your soul. His words, akin to a scorching blowtorch, had the ability to strip away layers, leaving you vulnerable and exposed, yet remarkably enriched by…

[randomrichards]

FESTIVAL (1967):

Newport festival

Showcase 60s folk music

Message still rings true

[the-dose-makes-the-poison]

[visualfolders]

“For you, I know even I’d try to turn the tide”— Johnny Cash

[ukdamo]

A Boy Named Sue

Shel Silverstein, made famous by Johnny Cash

My daddy left home when I was three And he didn’t leave much to Ma and me, Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze. Now, I don’t blame him cause he run and hid, But the meanest thing that he ever did Was before he left, he went and named me “Sue”! Well, he must’ve thought that is was quite a joke And it got a lot of laughs from lots of folk. It seems I had to fight my whole life through. Some gal would giggle and I’d get red And some guy’d laugh and I’d bust his head. I tell you, life ain’t easy for a boy named “Sue”!

Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean; My fist got hard and my wits got keen. I’d roam from town to town to hide my shame. But I made me a vow to the moon and stars That I’d search the honky-tonks and bars And kill that man that gave me that awful name.

Well, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July And I just hit town and my throat was dry. I thought I’d stop and have myself a brew. At an old saloon on a street of mud, There at a table, dealing stud, Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me “Sue”.

Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad From a worn-out picture that my mother’d had, And I knew that scar on his cheek and his evil eye. He was big and bent and grey and old, And I looked at him and my blood ran cold And I said: “My name is Sue! How do you do! Now you gonna die!!”

Well, I hit him hard right between the eyes, And he went down but, to my surprise, He came up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear! So I busted a chair right across his teeth And we crashed through the wall and into the street Kicking and gouging in the mud and the blood and the beer.

I tell you, I’ve fought tougher men, But I really can’t remember when! He kicked like a mule and he bit like a crocodile! I heard him laugh, and then he cursed; He went for his gun, but I pulled mine first. He stood there lookin’ at me and I saw him smile,

And he said, “Son, this world is rough And if a man’s gonna make it, he’s gotta be tough, And I knew I wouldn’t be there to help you along. So I gave you that name and I said goodbye; I knew you’d have to get tough or die! It’s that name that helped to make you strong!”

He said, “Now you just fought one hell of a fight, And I know you hate me, and you got the right To kill me now, and I wouldn’t blame you if you do. But you ought to thank me, before I die, For the gravel in your guts and the spit in your eye Cause I’m the son of a bitch that named you Sue!”

I got all choked up and I threw down my gun And I called him Pa, and he called me Son, And I came away with a different point of view. And I think about him, now and then, Every time I try and every time I win, And if I ever have a son, I think I’m gonna name him Bill or George! Anything damn thing but Sue! I still hate that name!