Long Memphis Poems
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A Visit to Graceland
By Elton Camp
Although Memphis is nearby
To visit Graceland I didn’t try.
Elvis wasn’t much older than me.
So his home I really should go see.
I followed the young tour guide.
“Stay together as we move inside.”
Critics call the house tacky as can be,
But it seemed quite luxurious to me.
No rightful criticism could I make.
In Elvis’ décor I saw no mistake.
I had no decorating advice to give.
It looks better than where I live.
“Now up these stairs is his private space.
The tour to go there would be a disgrace.”
The guide pointed on down the hall.
“On Jungle room, please make a call.”
I stared at the steps with eyes so wide.
“Up there’s where he lived and died.”
I stood alone at the foot of the stair.
Without any guard in charge to care.
Seeing a chance open to few,
I decided just what I would do.
While nobody was around,
Up the stairs with a bound.
In a large bedroom on the right,
Something gave me quite a fright.
“How do you dare to come up here?”
He asked in a voice shaky but clear.
He had a shock of dyed black hair,
But in places it was growing spare.
Then his great size next me astounds.
He must weigh three hundred pounds.
“Just who do you think you are?
Nobody’s allowed to come this far.”
I felt like I was about to faint.
Surely, Elvis the King that ain’t.
“Everybody thinks I died years ago
They must continue to think it’s so.
I can never be fat and old.
So that big lie I have told.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” I cry.
“Before I would tell it, I’d sooner die.”
He looked at me with a trace of a grin.
“No way can you betray this has been.”
“Nobody would believe a story like that.
A claim you saw Elvis alive, old and fat.”
I realized it was all too true.
If I told it, the day I would rue.
Liar would become my name
For harming Elvis’ great fame.
“We know Elvis long ago died.
What type drugs have you tried?”
And right then I began to shake
Until it brought me wide awake.
My own bedroom I did then see.
In Memphis town I couldn’t be.
No matter how real it did seem,
It had been nothing but a dream.
But I didn’t really so much care
That it had only been a nightmare.
For if Graceland I ever visit for real
And find Elvis alive, I’ll never squeal.
Trim and handsome all want him to be.
No unfavorable image should they see.
For many years I have realized that our hearts are very deceptive and unreliable. I cannot imagine how many times my heart has let me down and exposed the dark and negative aspects of it. Please permit me to share just one experience with you.
Thumbing through some old material a few days ago, I came across something that I experienced over 40 years ago and more than 2000 miles away. When I read the notes which had been in my possession for more than 35 years, my soul was enriched because I was sharing about the need for dedicating our lives to God which often demands that we take the initiative to say, "I'm Sorry", not only to God but also to fellow humans, even if we think that we are right.
On January 2, 1983, I referred to an encounter I had with a nurse in or about 1975 in Memphis, Tn. Now, 40 plus years later, I remember being in Memphis, but I don't even remember such an encounter. Had I not recorded the incident, I would not be speaking of it today. My notes reveal that a point was being made about changing our minds and taking the initiative to apologize. My notes also revealed that I was indignant toward the nurse, after which I left the scene and was heading home. Somewhere between that nurse and my home, The Holy Spirit convicted me of my actions and attitude.
Again, presently, I do not remember what really happened, but not only was I convicted by The Holy Spirit, I was compelled by Him to find a public telephone. Before I reached home, I telephoned the nurse and apologized for my behavior.
God knows every detail of what happened that day in Memphis, and I suspect if shown a video of my behavior, I would be embarrassed, to say the least, and perhaps surprised by the anger released from my heart. For many a year, we have heard it said, "Follow your heart". Technically, I do not follow my heart, but I lead my heart. And but for the grace of God, the cleansing blood of Christ, and the compelling forces of The Holy Spirit, I would be forever lost.
02162019PoSpMTFB
"HIGH TECH LYNCHING"
April 6, 2023, a dark and sad day in Tennessee history
Black men striped of their first amendment right to tell their story
The Declaration of Independence, states that "all men are created equal"
But the miscarriage of justice carried out in Nashville, quite illegal
Two young black Representatives expelled from the state house
Wrongfully discarded, unconstitutionally trashed, with many doubts
Simply because of the color of their skin
The perpetrators will never win
Black people in the south, still faced with remmnants of Jim Crow
They continuously want to constrain our voices, don't you know
Systemic racism is still alive and well
Brothers and Sisters open your eyes, because it's not that hard to tell
The act of expulsion, was a planned strategy
Nothing more than a senseless tragedy
From start to finish, this was all about race
Just a blatant power grab to put two uppity blacks in their place
The nation mourns for the loss souls in the Nashville legislature
Blinded by the darkness of corruption, with a revengeful nature
They rammed down our throats, a historical, unprecedented expulsion
Two black men politically lynched, for a house, decorum rules intrusion
Modern day slavery, still keeping us down
I am embarrassed to say that Memphis is my home town
Don't misconstrue, "Modern Day Slavery", as victimhood
We're not victims, just oppressed people, with our plight misunderstood
As black people, brought to this country on slave ships
As we continue to be mistreated, we harken back to those trips
Why are we, refused and denied our deserved respect
Maybe because when we reflect, our opinions are honest and direct
Pulaski County Tennessee, birth home of the Klu Klux Klan
To overcome southern disenfranchisement, voting is the plan
For us to neutralize that "Good Ole Boy" mentality
As a people, we must realize that it's more than a formality
For, far too long, we have been degraded and downtrodden
We refuse to be your foot stool any longer, we beg your pardon
Many people have lost their sense of civility
Engaging in bigotry and not taking responsibility
When some people present themselves as racists
Don't entertain the negative, just be an escapist
When some in society dismiss an education
They are easily persuaded with misinformation
Chasin’ Lighting – In Honor of the CUA Crew!
Several rickety rides held together with the faith of the ages,
Sages some might say, turnin’ pages of things old and things new,
The chosen few, riding with the storm,
Lighting flashing on all sides,
Switchin’ gears from fears of repeating histories to mysteries of new days dawning,
Spawning day dreams of elastic electricity, serendipity,
As Barack ascends,
Inspiring men,
They fight the darkness of hail ridden windshields,
Toggling between the unknown and highbeams of luminescent knowledge,
Chasing a faith strong enough to free the fatherless and set the captives free,
Wrestling not against flesh and blood,
But wide turns of satanic deception,
With weapons of light like mad max before them,
They wage war on the dark roads of Memphis, searching like alley cats like Thunder Cats,
For stitches of acts like koinonia,
Chasing a faith in persistent praya’ for a different tomorrow.
Sorrows fading beneath the commitment to serve a God beyond the schizophrenic nightmare of human imagination,
Sorrows fading beneath the elation of love and mercy eternal,
On their way to Oklahoma City,
Fighting for that Jerusalem which will stand forever,
Caught in the obsession of one singular endeavor,
To redeem the minds of our time, and see a renaissance explode out of the womb of suffering,
7, several, 70 times 7 rides, held together with the faith of the ages,
Chasing the courage of Baptists,
Chasing the justice of quakers,
Chasing the wisdom of Episcopalians,
Chasing the unity of Catholics,
Chasing the power of charismatics,
Chasing the stillness of the upper room,
Chasing pentacostal fire,
Chasing a fire strong enough to speak in the language of doubting atheists,
To speak in the language of agnostic scholars,
To speak in the shalom of the Torah,
To speak in the illumination of the Bagadav Gita,
Convincing Hindus of the ultimate avatar,
The Bodhisattva the Christ,
Converting crack heads into prophets of a blessed age,
They rage against disbelief and catch hold the rhythm of heavenly praise,
That all will be saved,
Several rickety rides, like Battlestar Gallactica, a rag tag assembly of apostles,
Chasing the end of paranoid hatred and the daydream of life eternal,
Several rickety rides,
Chasin' lighting
While looking for Elvis
Met Nessie in Loch Ness
Hoarding a leprechauns pot of gold
While getting ready to depart
I tripped over the Lost Ark
In the baggage of a hitchhiking Pharaoh
Thought I had got lost in flight
Stumble into Camelot at night
King Arthur shooting Robin Hood's arrows
Little green men from Mars
Battling a dragon with bumper cars
Jumping on my unicorn I rode
Diving into the Ocean
The mermaids gave me notions
My search for Elvis was getting cold
Swam down to Atlantis in the Atlantic
Dine at Poseidon's banquet
He had a big Roman nose
Cruising the Devil's Triangle
Being careful for any angle
I try to assassinate Castro
No money for the Florida toll booth
I wander into the Flountain of Youth
I look much younger so I'm told
On my way to Colorado
I kiss the Indian Princess of El Dorado
They can keep their entire treasure load
I saw Jimmy Hoffa eating a hot dog
While sitting with Big Foot on a redwood log
They were both getting pretty old
Went over to Memphis
Back through Las Vegas
My search for Elvis was about to fold
Than an angel named Gabriel
Told me about the new guy down at the stable
So I flew off to Shangri-la with pilot Joe
Our wings iced without warning
Damn this damn Global warming
Flying over Santa and a Chinese Viking Eskimo
We crashed landed in Xanadu
Met a few people we both knew
But Elvis left so I was told
With my new friend Yeti
We shared a big bowl of spaghetti
Amelia Earhart cooked and sold
Round the Garden of Eden
I traded an apple for freedom
From the lost tribes of Isreal though
On Mount Olympus I heard singing
The voice of Elvis reigning
I found the King of Rock and Roll
We ate a fried banana peanut butter sandwich
Elvis offer me the last bite of his sandwich
I politely refused I couldn't be so bold
Before I could ask Elvis as such
He rose and said "Thank you very much"
The answers I needed were put on hold
"Beam me up Scottie" he quipped
Than in a flash he was on the Mother Ship
And I turn and saw my friend little Moe
Area 51 is where that saucer came from
In Noah's Ark we drank wine and hard rum
Finding Elvis I am no hero
Looking for Elvis is half the fun
Its the trip that ends where it begun
Down in Dallas on a grassy knoll
Walking Away
There was a good job offer in Chicago, but I was forced to say no, because it interfered with my goals. There was a position rejection at my place of employment, and I decided my best move was to leave. I took my heart and soul to build a church in Mississippi, but failed and departed disappointingly.
I once faced ‘a fork in the road’ in which one direction was paved with freshness and remember when’s. I looked long and struggled emotionally, and nearly took the path that was also paved with lots of pain. Making right choices isn’t always the easy way; but if the way is wrong, the only choice is to walk away.
Situations of ‘let downs’ and ‘put downs’ seemed to be ‘the story of my life’ for much of my life. In spite of disappointments, our lives can still be a happy one of service and fulfillment. Let come what may, and let say what will; at the end of the day, it’s best to walk away.
Sure, I walked away from things, and my decisions seemed the best for me and family. But I have no real regrets, because through it all, life has been good; and God is good too. But I cannot imagine how things would have been, had I not chosen appropriately to walk away. Cj12142015(contest PS)
Famous Last Line
But I cannot imagine how things would have been, had I not chosen appropriately to walk away. In '92, my life became a sacrifice, and I quickly stepped aside, never seeking position or recognition. There were emotional pains and no self gains; The wounded had to be attended to; important things had to be done, but in the midst of the important, priority was of the essence. It would take time for healing, but the great physician was indeed making house calls for those who would dare take His medicine.*
I found solace from the radio. One afternoon, I heard a song over the radio that immediately took my mind back more than 20 years. It was a sweet memory and ‘a great mental and emotional get away’. The song was entitled, “Maybe It Was Memphis”; a song about two young people telling about how they met and how right it was. On this particular day, it was a country song that did the job for me.
040108 ( Edited and condensed 2/26/2016 for PS Contest, “Famous Last Line”, and posted 02272016*Leadership Crisis at a Church
We dream of rain...
And the mystery of the gun
We bold hold and driven apart
Kill the king when lovers depart
We dream of rain and the dark arts
Upon an endless sea, across an infinite A’merican waste…
A White House in the middle of Prussia a red square, fifty-two sons of the revolution, hundred of souls of the damned, we gather together to war on finite sands. We dream of rain under the desert sun, we hold the past, behold the last, one of these, we are the past, we look through to you. We are the last, we bold hold during the setting sun. We are the last.
We drive engines of mechanical wyrms, steam demons that burrow through. Deep inside sand on the infinite sea. We are the first, last, and always, nine while nine hold the throne. Bitter are the ones of your enemy’s cast. We sing this song of corruption, we sing empire down. Kill the king while lovers watch. The empire is in throws, the Mericans are bold and hold the line in the sand. A black house of a distant earth.
A white dress, the Empress of Nothing, nothing to hold. We are the last and always. We watch the red planet rise over your shoulder, we see the embers smolder. We are the kindred of the Last. Sing empire down. When lovers depart. They kill the beast in the sands where the steam of its heart bleeds. The Leviathan and of the sand and sea. Sing out our hearts, demand! Eurasia in turmoil the Blades of the One.
The Land of the Gun. Hangs heaven in the hands of the killers, as lovers depart. Law of the Land, the rule of the Gun. The law of man. We dream of rain in a righteous land. One with the Gun. Under a righteous Son. Someday, someday, someday, Dominion! I'm living in films for the sake of Prussia.
A Kino-Runner for the Dre-Karr, And the fifty-two daughters of the revolution is bound for treason, Turn the gold to chrome, a Gift... with nothing to lose, Stuck this side of Memphis with you in a mobile home, sing:
Mother Prussia, Mother Prussia. The Way of the Gun. The Rights of the West. We dream of rain. And the mystery of the gun. We bold hold and driven apart
Kill the king when lovers depart.
We dream of rain and the setting sun. Flood lands and driven apart…
Reprise III
An ode to the sisters who show mercy…
I once traveled around the U. S. on a Greyhound bus,
My wife thought I was crazy, but she made little fuss,
It was, by far, the most awesome adventure I ever took
Three changes of clothes, lots of grit, and a puzzle book,
In Atlanta, my small suitcase was temporarily lost
I forced myself into the luggage corral, despite the cost,
I luckily found it before we left for Memphis, and then
Decided I’d never ever check my luggage on the trip again.
A friend met me in Memphis, and I spent the night,
After two days solid on the bus, I suppose I was a sight,
A hot shower and change of clothes, boy, was I set
For the long trip to Phoenix, again, where I was met
By friends I hadn’t seen since my St. Louis days,
I spent the night with them, then went on my way,
Arriving in San Diego, California a day or two later,
I caught a Greyhound going up the west coast, terrific
The most beautiful iconic route along the coastal Pacific.
I stopped off in Oakland to get a night of rest, and
Having no more friends along the way, the land
Up to Spokane was more of the same, but I digress,
For after Oakland I had no good places to undress.
Starting across the northern part of the country
I knew I was beginning to smell a little bit funky.
No one cared to sit beside me, I had plenty of room
I did my best in the stations’ restrooms to groom.
Across Montana, Idaho, and through Dakota, I go
A layover in Minneapolis, then on to Chicago,
Where the time on my ticket summarily expired.
When I approached the desk, they wanted to know
If I was the guy traveling around the country, so,
I told them, yes, and they said go on home “on us,”
So, I headed home to Virginia on the Greyhound bus.
Chicago to Indianapolis to Knoxville, I did my best
When my wife picked me up, I’d finally get some rest.
She had me sit as far away as I could get in the car,
Because I smelled like sardines left in an open jar!
The experiences I had I won’t forget as long as I live
I wouldn’t trade the adventure for anything you’d give
The stories I have to tell are far too many to share,
I’ll just say travel the U.S.A.; if you can, if you dare.
Written December 10, 2022
At six o’clock the road turned bare
as we rode through Tennessee.
From Nashville to Memphis is a long,
dark stretch of gray and brown trees
and fields where no one ever walks or works.
I’ve often wondered who owns those empty spaces.
The rains kicked up and splattered the windshield
with drops as big as plums, ten seconds at a time,
then dry a while before starting all over again.
For hours and miles, nothing changed
past Memphis, Little Rock, and Fort Smith,
until the sun came up somewhere the other
side of Oklahoma City.
Clear dawn revealed the dead-end of Autumn,
but hot as Summer. The enfolding hills
of home had unfolded into horizons
all the way to the curved edge of the Earth.
The fields were golden stubble and brown
and gray and white from no rain
at this dead-end since August.
These are fields where people work,
but do not walk, because there is nowhere to go,
as far as the eye could see, nowhere to go.
In that unfolded expanse,
there were sometimes brown gashes
where older rains had surprised the ground
with knife-edged, alkaline drops
and left miniature grand canyons
of momentary interest to whiz by.
Finally, we arrived home,
a place with roots deep in the Amarillo soil.
The family was gathered there,
faces of people who knew about horses
and no rain, the sharp spikes of cactus
and mesquite pounded into the surface
of that thirsty soil. Their roots went
deep enough to find a little harsh water
to nourish the music of parched conversation
over an informal Thanksgiving dinner.
Later we weaved through the cactus and mesquite
to a line of low buttes rising a hundred feet to
flat tops where we could see across
the quiet, dusty plain.A distant silver train
caught the sun, and rolled silently beneath us
in that Autumn heat.
A jackrabbit skipped across our path
like a stone on still water, and
some tired bird of prey from nowhere sailed by,
going nowhere.
The heat of that dusty day
bled into a tired Amarillo night,
so we threw off the unnecessary coverings
left in preparation for a cold dead end of
Autumn that had not yet arrived.
Vol Lindsey
11/98
He pulled into Birmingham, one cold,November day,
Having just come down from "Tulsey town" and Memphis by the way.
Time to call in to locate his next load;
"There's one I see in Tallahassee; better hit the road".
Gotta keep his big rig rollin',and hummin' out a truckers tune;
Whether he's hauling goods; or steel,or wood, they want it there by noon.
Sure, the economy's slow and those diesel prices continue to soar
But he,and his trucker friends,are all mighty men, with that pedal to the floor.
His days are long, and his nights are spent alone,
'Cause he has rent to pay--and that's okay-- his lovely wife is waiting at home.
He never knows where next he'll go;
Perhaps he's the trucker bound for Winnemucca--or Taos New Mexico.
When at last, his working week is through,
And he's on his own, heading home, his life begins anew.
His hometown lights are up ahead;only twenty miles to go!
After driving hard, he sees his yard, and the dear family he loves so.
The children flock to bestow their tender hugs and kisses;
He loves them all-when did they get so tall?- and then he greets the Mrs.
This is Wednesday, the night for midweek prayer.
His Sisters and Brothers,the Pastor and the others, all rejoice to see him there.
Through worship and prayer, he is renewed to face those long,lonely rides.
Yep, this hard-working American man,criss-crosses this land, with Jesus by his side.
He awaits the Lord's return and listens for that Trumpet Call!
On his final run, when his earthly work is done, then he will make his greatest haul.
For he's shared his faith at the local Seven-Eleven,
And in countless other places,countless other faces,will join his trip to heaven.
God gives each of us a specific call;
Will we reach the lost at any cost?-or will we forfeit all?
My hat is off to those 'good ol'gear-jamming boys'
Who speak to everyone they see, about true love and peace, while walking in God's pure joy!
Charlie Pelota HSLP
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