J B:
CLASS OF 1966
Palm Springs High SchoolClass of 1966
Palm springs, CA
Nellie N.Coffman Junior High SchoolClass of 1962
Palm springs, CA
Warner Avenue Elementary SchoolClass of 1959
Los angeles, CA
Cielo Vista Elementary SchoolClass of 1959
Palm springs, CA
J's Story
Desert Dreamscape
Forget about customs and convention
Boogie until dawn to the Mother’s of Invention
Watch the records go round and round
The Doors, the Byrds, the Velvet Underground
Go up, come down, can the tenth dimension even be found?
Sitting upon craggy hillside slopes
With cotton-puff-like mountain goats
Gazing down to glimpse some antelopes
Racing across the desert floor
With unequalled beauty you could not ignore
Hiking up to Tahquitz falls
In the silence, a cactus wren calls
Snow runoff forms the icy pool
Crystal clear, like a frigid jewel
Plunging in your breath abates, igniting every molecule
Sunning like a lizard on big, flat stones
Warmth purging festivities from your bones
Dipping in to quench the fire
Clothing is optional no need to atone
No one around cares about attire
Cicadas droning in the tamarisk jeer
Like lethargic engines, stuck in second gear
Closing your eyes, floating away on their wings
An orchestral arrangement of hoarse, rasping strings
Creating Morpheus visions you can see, feel, and hear
Rainbows forming from your head to your feet
The kaleidoscope turns and changes the view
Are you sure you are who you are, like are you really you?
Palm trees swaying to the music inside your head
A whole lot of Dylan with a little bit of Dead
Wandering around the desert floor after midnight
Climbing a sand dune up to the apex
Hey man, just out here seeking the light
Riding the wave of adrenaline swirling in the cortex
Flying high into the atmosphere, falling back a stringless kite
Languid evenings, the heat still holding you close
Now a tender, sheltering, and gentle lover
The air infused by the scent of desert primrose
While in the distance mirages still faintly hover
Being lulled to sleep by the balmy wisp of its cover
But then the dark expanse of the vast night sky
Mirroring and reflecting the future’s daydreams
In multicolored prisms that tease the moon and its beams
With promises hoped for, desired, and yet to take shape
Possibilities begin to arise in the mind of your desert dreamscape
Intempestae Noctis
At dead of night
Muddled mind like twilight
I stretch, I shake, I’m awake
I hear a car rev...Expand for more
up, then trail off
Down the road and hit the brake
Upright and moving now
The air, soft like satin on my skin somehow
Staring out into the yard in back
Everything in shadows, pussy willow gray and chrysalis black
The pale moon obscured behind a cloud
Mischievous and shy, hiding her face
Covering the garden with a silken shroud
Winking the dark away to replace
The somber mood with golden light
Hitting the luminescent shimmer of a moth as it takes flight
Shapes ephemeral from her sallow kiss
Twinkle like memories as you reminisce
Just the faintest of a glimmer you can derive
The geraniums like ghosts from the netherworld thrive
The clematis blooms resemble starfish on a pier
In garden pots of every size it is quite clear
The moon-beamed, now phantasmagoric blooms
Have all donned the dead of night’s surreal costumes
All in the transitory light, playing hide and seek
As around their leafy limbs they playfully peek
Then a sudden breeze sets them all on edge
A rat scurries along the rockery ledge
A barn owl swoops in for the kill
Flies away and once again the primeval night is still
I turn and walk back toward my bed
Where Somnus pulls the shades down in my head
Boujee Hippie
By 1970, she was a boujee Hippie
Fred Segal Levi skirt
Hand embroidered peasant shirt
Silver conchos the size of lemons
Zuni inlay, or Navajo squash blossoms
The Kaibabs upon her feet obscured
The fact that they were pedicured
The only thing to a Hippie’s taste
Was her auburn hair, down to her waist
Sure, ganja was a daily thing
Along with an occasional acid or Psilocybin fling
The preference was blow in those days long ago.
She was a card, carrying member of Over the Rainbow
She lived and roamed all around Laurel Canyon
Dwelled a spell in a place full of red rocks and pinon
Did not drive a bug, van or live in a tepee
Preferred houses or condos and drove a 220 SE
She traveled first class, ate lobster, drank Dom Perignon
Slept the day away and partied 'til dawn
Hitchhiking the coast was a thing of her past
The Haight, love ins, communes, for her did not last
In hindsight she’d say she was more of an eccentric gypsy
With a sprinkle on top of a boujee Hippie
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