Girl at Table Painting- Janet at the Table

Janet at Table

girl-at-table-painting-01
girl-at-table-painting

Here is a painting I did of Janet at the table. I have no idea where this painting is. I have only this image. The girl at table painting still exists somewhere in the world. It represents a time when my wife was here.

An old poem I wrote for Janet many years ago:

I am worn weathered wood.
I have seen the storms,
felt the hot sun,
endured the wind until
I am cracked.
My colours have faded into
burnt siennas from red under
the sun’s rays.
I have seen the owl at night and
the hawk in the day for
I am a window in this wood,
this weathered wood.
I am a window or
I am nothing.
I am a window.
Sneek up, take a peek
into my panes.
She will be there, sitting
at the table
having her tea
or holding her cat
quietly

for Mary Janet Jackson on this sping day April 4, 2012 …david michael jackson

Music Poem by David Michael Jackson

Sounds of the music,
windows waiting,
waiting for sunrise,
waiting for sunsets.
Apple dreams of trees laden,
with fruit, laden with
dreamscapes unseen in
daylight, unseen until
we came running across the meadows,
helping ourselves to
life
and we bought in to the
thinking of willow trees and
trumpets, trumpets blowing
blowing for me
blowing for you as the
windows are waiting,
waiting for sunrise, oh
can you hear me singing the
song of living and dying
living and dying in wars of our own
choosing, choosing to lie
in sweet meadows
instead, instead of marching
instead of windows waiting for
sunsets, she was
there with me
her green eyes
smiling
saying
come
back
come back
my love

Chair Paintings

Chair paintings I have known

chair-painting-01
Chair Painting

Chair Paintings, harumph! I have one too. It’s empty. I called it and empty chair painting but no one asked for that so I seek a loftier set of words. If I succeed you see my painting. If I do not succeed, my painting remains on the wall of my dear Niece Cindy Jackson in Clarksville Tennessee. You can see it there or in any one of the attics in which it may reside in the future.
In order for you, some nameless person somewhere, to see my chair painting I have to say chair painting now. I also need outside links for my robot friends. I must be the chair painting expert. There I said it again.
Chair Paintings. Let’s See there is Van Gogh’s chair painting:

Van Gogh Chair Painting
Van Gogh Chair Painting

Paul Gauguin was Vincent’s buddy. They lived together for awhile and then Vince cut off his ear. That would put a strain on any friendship.

Gauguin Chair
Gauguin Chair

Pot Poem by H E Hasben

Pot Poem by H E Hasben

Made enough money yet?
Stole anybody’s car lately?
The car thieves are wearing uniforms.
The car thieves are wearing robes.
Everybody making money,
Singing our war song.
It’s the money song.
It’s the law, baby,
Protecting you from pot.
Hard times but no prison guards losing work.
Gotta have jobs.
Good for jobs locking these black people up
for pot,
for something in their pocket.
Every few prisoners
is a new job for
a white All American prison guard,
and the country needs jobs.

I know it’ is no gun,
but
hell they were driving while black and
bringing the pot to
to our family member,
oh you have one too?
We show their faces in the paper
to let people know we are fighting this war
on pot,
on those who were
caught bringing the pot
to our family member,
oh you have one too?

Those criminals?
Them black people!

Oh let’s sing a song.

Oh search their car.
Oh take their car.
and lock them in a cell
they should have never driven black
So why treat them well
.”

No poets need to cry,
every thing is fine,
just peachy.

Oh they’ll never search
the judge’s car
we can leave our pot
in there.

 

Here is another pot poem:

 

Who are the Last Prisoners of Our War ~ by Ashton Bergoyne Smith

Oh we’ll keep doing it won’t we?

As if anyone cared more than we,

we paragons of virtue.

Oh look at those in front of us
for this weed,
this plant,
this maker of money,
this earth medicine,
whose very name we dare not say.

Oh look
at those in front of us

They are just the ones who were caught,
and we are taking their money,
and we are ruining their lives.

Who are the last prisoners of our war?
Who are the last prisoners of our war?

Our war on the poor.

We are my friend,
we are.

Oh Al Capone!
You’d be in Miami now
on the beach,
laughing again.
Laughing your fat ugly laugh.

 

 

We defend those who serve us by defending our laws and wearing uniforms that bear witness to the sacrifices they make for us. We strongly defend our law officers and our judges.  It is our responsibility as citizens to provide just laws for them to defend. They will be faithful to the laws we present. It is our fault, not theirs, that our pot laws are doing damage to innocent people.

Someone once said to a judge, “That weed is my beer.” The judge replied, “You are an honest man.”