Willie Nelson

Willie Nelson is a jack of all trades. He even writes a poem from time to time. Getting older can be downright depressing. The golden years aren’t so golden. They can be the coolest, most uncomfortable winter you’ve ever experienced. But you can also stop to look at the beauty in the snow.

 

Anyhow…

Willie Nelson, I love you!!

Happy 84th birthday to one of the coolest men out there!!

….and thank you Both Kinds of Music in LA on KCHUNG radio for providing lots of Willie Nelson for our listening pleasure this morning.

Now for a poem from Willie himself-

 

“I have outlived my pecker.”

The Penis Poem–by Willie Nelson

My nookie days are over,

My pilot light is out.

What used to be my sex appeal,

Is now my water spout.

Time was when, on its own accord,

From my trousers it would spring.

But now I’ve got a full time job,

To find the f***in’ thing.

It used to be embarrassing,

The way it would behave.

For every single morning,

It would stand and watch me shave.

Now as old age approaches,

It sure gives me the blues.

To see it hang its little head,

And watch me tie my shoes!!

Stolen work

Well as hard as the truth hurts A LOT, I recently found on Instagram today that my work had been stolen by a more popular poet who has been published. It’s my own fault. I never did any copywriting. Still it stings like a bitch! So this website will only be for my own thoughts on others work, posts of work I like, and thoughts on other things. No more of my poetry, nor stories until they have been published though for my own protection.

and lastly…

Fuck you to the guy who blazingly stole my work. I never realized you took pieces of my poem and posted it on your Facebook claiming it to be your own. Especially since a woman had what was “your words” tattooed on her. You’re a phony…and those were actually a woman’s words to begin with… not a mans.

Nobody likes a thief.

Just goes to show. Protect your work people.

I apologize to any follows who liked my poetry and/or stories in the past. I will keep you all updated on any published work in the future.

With love,

-K.K.Powell

The audience.

Three fat sausage fingers slide up and down her shoulder.

His pony tail smooshed to the back of his head…shifted to the right.

He didn’t have time between his nap, and the show.

Too much pot he smoked before the show.

Shewp, shewp, shewp, shewp.

My eyes grow wide.

Fuck…I am stuck next to these two for the next hour and a half.

Schhhhleeeeerp

As the man on the other side sucks his spit through the canyons of his teeth.

The pulled pork threads sit locked and loaded

I want to hear the speaker speak,

I consider asking these annoying people to stop with their annoyances.

Shewp, shewp, shewp, shewp.

Scratch, scratch, scratchity scratch, scratch, scratch.

Scccchhhhleeeeerp.

My upset and overwhelmed brain begins to force my eyeballs out of my head.

I point a my index finger to my left ear to the incessant arm brusher.

For fuck’s sake.

Is the public display of attention THAT important.

Stop that already!

I visualize a mad man lunging toward him.

Grabbing his fingers, and chopping them off one by one.

Wait, is this a nervous tick?

Am I being a dick..?

My tiny index finger is this man’s saving grace.

Sccccchhhhlerrrrrp.

Please?!

Just go get some fucking tooth floss you indigent!!!

Nope, don’t say it.

Don’t be rude.

You drove a long way to hear this man speak…

The speaker speaks.

I fumble in my chair uncomfortably.

His voice rises just enough to muffle twiddledee and twiddledum.

A girl giggles nervously.

Another howls like she used to at a 1980’s arena rock concert.

My name is Ashley…

I’m thiiiiiirteeeen.

As she kisses her nineteen year old boyfriend on the lips.

Slips the tongue.

A french one.

We all know about THAT one.

I snicker.

He speaks, and reads me a tale or two

Then yawn

Lightning strikes from the rugged dark blue and grey clouds above.

His voice carries

as the thunders roll through the purple hills.

Crisis averted for twiddledee and twiddledum.

-K.K. Powell

 

Grocery Grandeur

The wind howls in the cool wet darkness

The rains ease graciously

The heavy truck door is forced shut by the storm’s breeze

Only to be stopped from latching shut

 by my knee…

ACK!

Synapses

send sparks

and flames

to my brain

The knee burns

and throbs

Maybe it bleeds

Not enough to soak through my jeans

Hey, you got any cash??

I need a hotel room tonight, and I ain’t got no money. 

Sorry, man.

No cash here.

Fluorescent lights

Pupils constrict

Coffee beans

Organic

dark blend

Chocolate, Citris, Almonds.

White wine

Chardonnay

Vanilla, Oak, and Apples.

An overly talkative checker

You two find everything okay?

Oh wait, you aren’t together…

Well, that’s awkward…!!

Now is your chance….

You can crack open your breath mints before you talk to her if you want.

The poor twenty something froze.

His tennis shoes probably a gift from mom,

shortly before she became an empty nester.

All he wanted was his nutella snack,

and his ice breakers mints.

He fumbles to get through the line.

Still he does not turn back.

Back to the cool dank night

Dog kibble scattered on the ground.

Her pupils

pin point

dark to light

light to dark

pin

point.

Well, NOW can I have money.

Sores cover her pale face

Short hair knotted sporadically atop her head

No, you cannot have money.

I am not your ATM.

The dog eats her kibble

off the concrete.

A sense of entitlement

used by instability.

Drunk off the overindulgence of humanity.

-K. K. Powell

 

 

 

 

Heart of stone

Walking along at around 10,000 feet on Mount Shasta I attempted to find the perfect heart shaped stone. You see, I have found many of them on my travels into various geographical locations. Usually while in nature, on a hike or while practicing yoga.

I was given a heart of red stone by a Native American whom I met on a hike in Sedona, Arizona. After a long talk about philosophy, we gave each other a hug. I did some yoga on a rock nearby while he played his flute. A lizard stood by, and watched me. Click on the hyperlink below to view.

Lizard video link Sedona, AZ
In my frequent drives into the Rocky Mountains of Colorado I would spend hours hiking into the forests. One day finding a rose quartz heart there while on a hike with Lulu.


While living by the Russian River in Cloverdale, California I would meditate by the river often after my yoga practice. One day an otter was upstream laying on his back on the other side of the river. He would look over periodically, and continue about his business while I carried on with my own. That same day I found a two heart shaped river stones… One large, one small.

While walking at the 10,000 feet at Mt. Shasta it felt right. The day before while at Lake Siskiyou, I looked down to find a lizard holding refuge under my shirt laying on a rock. When I picked my shirt back up, I did it carefully as I didn’t want to harm my visitor. I snapped a little picture, made sure the dog didn’t have him for a snack, and we were on our way.


The next day there was a chipmunk standing nearby stuffing his chubby cheeks watching as I wobbled back in forth in the intermittent gusts of winds in tree pose. I was feeling at one with nature, and had a good feeling I may find another heart stone.

When I looked down…
I did see a heart.
While it was surrounded by dirt, it looked perfect.
When I picked it up, it was just another abstract rock.

Then I remembered…

There is no perfect heart.
No perfect heart shaped stones.
The most perfect hearts are molded that way.
…and sometime the hearts covered in dirt, cracked, and imperfect are actually the best hearts.

As I walked along further I found many stones to form a heart.


Then I remembered, to form a good heart sometimes it takes not just one… But many to make it the best heart.

Thanks for the reminder Mt. Shasta.

-K.K. Powell

Mt. Punk

Up at Mt. Shasta recently I have found my creative faucet is flowing again. I just needed some mountain time. So I leave you with this joke that I was told on a hike. You see, the people of Mt. Shasta can be very metaphysical in their beliefs, but also have a great sense of humor. As someone who used to have a mohawk once upon a time, I found this very funny. 

So Garth, the camp host told Critter from Ashville, North Carolina… who then told me-
You know those 3000 year old trees down there are very knowledgeable. I was surprised with how up to date they are, and they have a great sense of humor! Ever had a tree tell you a joke? Critter told Garth… No, but he was dying to hear it.

Garth said-

Why did the punk rocker cross the road?
Because he had a chicken stapled to his head!

I roared in laughter, a laughter so big it rolled through the meadows. 

-K.K. Powell

Poem: Wet blanket

K.K. Powell

A cloak sweeps over her…

Shoulder to shoulder.

The truth was…

you were never really all that good at stoking the fire.

That spark…

was cursed-

to never reach a flame.

To your disdain.

The spark lay in her ground-

with only a smoulder.

The cloak was your last magic act. 

just to hold her.

Suspended…

She lets go.

Little did she know…

The foundation was shoddy. 

The pressure.

too much.

The pipes fell apart.

It was just the start…

Waves of water spray.

a wet blanket. 

How could she stay?  

-K.K. Powell

The tale of the two wolves

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life. “A fight is going on inside me,” he said to the boy.“It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil – he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.” He continued, “The other is good – he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you – and inside every other person, too.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?”

The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.”

Click on the hyperlink below if you would like to know more Native American stories. 

More native information, etc