Before and After. Two Poems: Rock Soul Live and Nine Fifty One

by Farrisse Greighbearre, both written in County Cabell, Melissa, West Virginia

---rock---soul---live---

A Story by FarisGreybear

9/4/2014A.D. Melissa, WV Cabell County

chorus:
Live from venus drive, it's the rock soul live
Vile low scar, that's where it cut into my bone
Sutures above my eyes, and I realize the real lies
This rock, you, and me makes three, we are home.

verse one:
Spirit thick on davis crick, but I shore ain't Hamlin bound
On to the froggy ponds with some E.mployed N.omadic V.agabonds
Got me some peaches from Floyd's,'whar I land and hit the ground
Route sixty lickety split,'em phone magicians're wavin' their wands

verse two:
Long ago on Westport Road,'tween the Watterson n' two sixty five,
Lonely soul found the geode at the head of little goose crick
Tumblin' together in that cardboard box, so happy and alive
Bloodied from forehead to both feet, life already'd made me sick

verse three:
My constant true friends, stone home and up above
Forever in the mountain, it's the rock soul place
My blood runs with the river, heart beating love
I'm just a two legged animal with a human face

---nine---fifty---one---

"Rock Soul Reboot", 3/25/2015 A.D.

Once again in full orbit spin, dear friend

Life after death, and blue-faced for breath

So, Live and "On Air", Venus Drive, the rare blend

Immigrant hunting, bracket's filled with Elizabeth

With soggy river bottoms dried, the boggled mind's misery

From the purple Bardstown Tiger band,

to SpringHill Cemetery, diggin' in the land.

On the Boggs team, from Aaron, bearded trumpeteer,

To new Dad, youngest Zachary.

In the civilization that never was,

"Feet of clay", that stand upon sand.

Oh the Vile Low Scar, the Rock Soul Live though...

Eyebrows of sutures, days of the past and the future's

Still rolling in the box, hex barrel and flintlocks, whoa!

Sasparilla with Aquilla Nail down Teary Trail features

And now forests sprout in old fields of stone,

Near private route nine fifty one.

For the pig ore and stone furnace are the tales of ghosts.

No more canal boats to float,

And Huey rides the E.K. rails no more.

Written history revised as digital mystery,

The forgotten Lord of Hosts.

And so crumbling concrete creeps.

To replace Immortal iron.

Spanning shore to shore.

Weaving through the ancient open pit mines, the Sun blinds.

Loving sculpture of ridges,

Leveled and laid waste,

"Improved."

So still diggin seng-root,

The Rock Soul Reboot,

Yet Joy, the heart still finds.

Ever so styled, eternally wild,

Where deer go, the paths are hooved.

So from Westport cardboard on L'il Goose Creek,

Plumb up river to the Pond Run.

The tale is spun.

DEDICATED TO TWO CHEROKEE GREAT-GRANDMOTHERS OF MY GRANNY, Mrs. C.M.Probus (1912-2002) RIP.

BETSY CLOUD JETT (born GA, 1811 - KY,1880)

AND ALLIE NAIL JUSTICE (born SC, 1789 - KY,1893! yes 104)