In the home of the ‘free and the brave’
live cowards come out of their caves
Proud to fly the Nazi flag in Jacksonville
'Once-amber-fields’ turned dunghills
Joyful, Jubilant, Lovely Life, Lauding Jazz, Leading Lessons, Likes Jacksonville Jaguars.
lovebugs has taken on a new meaning
now that I live in Jacksonville, Florida
where honeymoon flies congregate
in hundreds or should I say millions?
flying in tandem, like two-headed weirdos
smashing against car windshields at tremendous speeds
kamikaze pilots, which would be okay
if their acidic dead bodies did not take paint and chrome off our cars
Baltimore cashmere fiskars tee-off
Building lines center points Centerville La Prada orange
Normal sesmatics North Carolina persuasions evident in my speech Forward Ultra Plus
Leaning torwards concrete discovers more
Interior Atlantic Cambridge clandestine
Bermuda temper-pedic Sealey SEALS ?? Evergreen
Miranda rights the west and the sand it’s etched in
The ta ta the Tatonik plates collide and intercept
As Life speaks only the devil intercedes
Revelon Remington' Winchester' Springfield
Browning Ruger Stealth
Alexi Morning Glory Lex Luger says
“Look at these traps set for my feet”
Lackland Jacksonville Fort Beautiful Baby sister says
“Zero-temperatures, Seal friend, catch my drift”
Little tree little bear Honey Brown touchdown
Land the metal I’m in the end zone now
Dangerfield Dangerzone Red-light special at the k-mart
Alburqurque Highway-6 city of the Purple Hearts
I-hop Utah sex drugs fast forward money stacked up
Anything you ask for
I Thought Irma Was Over
By Franklin Price
9/11/2017 – 5:26 PM
I thought Irma was over
When she turned right at the coast
To cross the width of Florida
With an eye I thought was toast
She made it although wounded
Winds out four hundred miles
She kicked the ass of Jacksonville
And took away their smiles
She left and headed northward
Pounding Georgia's coast and Isles
The Okefenokee swamp
Had hunkered down it's crocodiles
She then kept on to Charleston
Water surged in streets and ways
I'll not think she's gone again
Looks like thinking never pays
It would not surprise me
If she headed out to sea
And got her wits about her
And came back after me
I'd hunker down in Asheville
A very sheltered blue ridge town
I'm sure the mountains would not stop her
She'd scream right in and blow them down
I'm hoping she won't read this
And decide to come my way
I would much appreciate it
If she went to sea today
Headed to where the water's cold
To take away her fuel
Looks like that's the only way
She will die and end this duel
Irma Pulled a Fast One
By Franklin Price
9/11/2017 – 6:07AM
Irma pulled a fast one
Just before I closed my eyes
Took a right turn to the East
To sooner see the sun arise
Was supposed to go to Tampa
Get a cigar there to chew
Now she's wrecking Jacksonville
Her new direction's nothing new
Was not supposed to go there
Was to head for Alabam
Once again surprised predictors
Jacksonville now gets the slam
Passed Daytona Beach's race track
A responders' prepping pad
On the way out of the state
Had to see just what they had
Her blurry eye was very close
Winds blew and rains came down
She made their jobs more daunting
As she headed out of town
In Jacksonville a record surge.
In the Saint John's river way
Irma was not done with us
That's her record for today
Has affected all of Florida
Six million without power
Trees knocking down transmission lines
A new record every hour
She's still exceeding records
Wind speed. over time was set
It was a new world record
One of many she would get
She is still not through with us
On this day the towers fell
She, as nature's terrorist
Still makes our lives a living hell
"The Lobster House" on the St.
Johns River in Downtown-Downtown 1950s
Jacksonville, Florida, was where
"The Creaturefrom the Black Lagoon" crawled
up from the deep onto a riverfront
deck to howls of derision at Hollywood
hucksters from an island girl and her
Friday-night, dining-out friends.
In her just-married uber-sophistication
she would order a MANHATTAN,
unaware of the eminence of that dark
and delicious libation: a cherry
within for a small town girl with a yen
for New York City, never dreaming
she would one day stand, island-girl-
awed, for the first time ever in the middle
of Times Square: riveting heart of
Manhattan as swirling headlights of
cars spelled consummation.
Young visitors
to his grave
at Pere Lachaise
wonder why
an old chick like me
gets up on his tomb-
stone which is littered
with wine bottles
stuck with flowers
and written upon
with loving graffiti
to take a photograph.
They stare,
hide smiles,
not knowing that
while my babies slept
I played The Doors,
dreamed of un
buttoning my blouse
and walking with Jim
down the dark streets
of Jacksonville.
Smoke-filled noisy bar,
debauched disciples of dance,
I do not fit in.
Wafting on the morning breeze,
During manufacturing
Our whole town enjoyed the scent.
Maxwell House Coffee.
Freshness permeating air.
Aroma percolating.
Infusing memories of…
Grandma’s coffee pot.
June 3, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnen
It was something
You will take a long time forgetting
Should you sit on a Sunday's emptiness
Wanting something to do
Your hand always had the steering
Yet it was I who saw the map
And the detours that did not matter
I liked driving from Jacksonville to Georgia
Imagining horid things about horid places
And longing for familiar faces
Sometimes, perhaps you cease laughing
And swallow hard, and hide again
Tears that retraces where you have been
It was something
Too drunk with stubborness
To detour a lonely Sunday evening
Searching for one last giggle of happiness
If you're trying to push your Coupe' DeVille
from Panama City to Jacksonville
You've got to journey through Gadsden County.
So you better mind your P's and Q's
if you plan on driving through
and keep both eyes wide open for the County Mounty.
'Cause Gadsden County Jail's no place to be
it's overcrowded and dirty and it smells like pee
and every dime you have will surely be taken away.
They'll impound your car and arrest your wife
the kids will all get twenty-five to life
and your family will surely rue the day
You decided to take a Florida Vacation
and you all came back sentenced to probation
just because Gadsden County was on your way.
If you're guilty or not doesn't matter with them
their bank accounts are mighty slim
and they're gonna get your money whatever it takes.
There's a booking fee just to get you in
you gotta pay for your food which is awfully thin
so friend, avoid Gadsden County for goodness sake.
The cold air blowing through my frail body,
puts goose bumps all over me.
Walking through large snow drifts,
making time seem longer,
and each step taking away
my energy.
Time drags on into the night,
searching for shelter to hide from
the bitter cold winds.
Finding a cave brings relief, seeing
some logs, I start a fire to warm my
frozen hands.
Looking outside I see blizzard
conditions.
The warmth of the fire keeps
me warm, but will the the logs
let me make it through the
night or will I freezed like everything else.
Will have to make them last,
I refuse to die on this bitter cold
night.
In just a few hours dawn will be here,
and I will catch the noon train
to Jacksonville, where its been
in the 80's all week and not
a trace of snow.
So this will be my last night
and winter in this dreadful
place, I will see a new day
and smile once again.
My Saint John flow on
Through forest, marsh and town's spread
Tablecloth of stars
Conquistadors gone
The blue herons walk alone
In moonlight's silence
River and lone night
Memory is a wind's hope
Rustling swamps for gold
Let us keep our thoughts
In slow meandering lakes
The salt sea invites
Less Timucuan
Waken find us new remnants
In Ferdinand's dream
Love wilts in salt tears
The heart snakes the bush of grief
Tense as beauty stares.
Waleka, Rio
De Corrientes, Rio
De San Juan, the same
A gaudy green thrill
Peace sanctuary of births
Life from life flowing
Still at Sawgrass breast,
The Seminole blood of strength
I from Afric's tent
We the better ore
Than gleaming figment of fort
Lovers on this shore
Sea abandoned child
Scarred and aching love consoles
Tributary feasts.
O otters swim deep
Beneath the currents I weep
But a shrimp of tear
What is gone is gone
The sun makes still day's new dawn
Oceans carry on
Ships cargo joy fresh
As pines from which warblers sing
Magics of today.
My Saint John flow on
O'er fertile grounds of sweet love
Blooming moonlight still.
What is the sound that I hear, the early call of the sparrow? their music is very
clear. Last nite-I heard gunfire and yes that's typical as in my neighborhood we all
live with fear. But each morning the mocking bird's makes noice of cheer. What
is that sound I hear, are they singing a tune of triumphant that seems to help ease
my fear. As the siren's and emergency personal pour into the hood, someone has
died, O'that point is very clear.
As another night of voilence-young folk's and old playing against the noon-early
in the morning the birds of prey, play's another tune. Jacksonville, once a proud new
city sparrowling with the promises of a Dreamer's dream. "Now the time has come-do
we take back or do we all cry". The sun will still shine tomorrow-but for many in the
city they all are asking why. Why is my young daughter hurting or my son spending
this night in the morgue, "do we take back the city, or do we all cry".
"Yes the Time has Come, will all ye pastor's not worry about the trouble or the crime".
But will your prayers help motivate some, give strenth that's excruciating to everyone.
"The time has come, apply yourself, before the rise of the Sun".
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