The Most Perfect Silence

Back in early 1996, I came across a website called Jollyroger.com. It was devoted to the Great Books, Sonnets, and outstanding literature of all kinds.

I went to visit tonight, and found no trace of the original site. Every attempt ended with a page load error. So I conducted a search and found another site: Jollyrogerwest.com. Unfortunately, this one is on its last legs, with forums filled mostly with unkempt spam messages.

So sad to me is the demise of the "literary renaissance," and the death of the "literary resistance," that I conducted another search for one of my favorite poems published there, called "The Most Perfect Silence."

It turns out that someone had archived and published it on their site--so I've captured it and am publishing it as a tribute to Drake Raft, one of the founders of the "literary renaissance."

Here it T.I.issssssss:

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The Most Perfect Silence

I know where the most perfect silence is,
Seen it in the wild blue off Hatteras,
A mile out, rainbowed sails in silent bliss,
Looked like they'd collide, but they safely passed.
I know when the most perfect silence is,
Down a dusty Ohio road, high noon,
No shirt on, being burned by the sun's kiss,
Sixteen, takin' my time-- it was still June.
I know what the most perfect silence is,
It's what we say when falling out of love,
It roars and thunders right through the kiss,
Says all that no words can ever speak of.
I know why the most perfect silence is,
It is there for the whisper to be born,
The whisper in her ear became the kiss,
Just a dream on the sea early one morn.
I know who the perfect silence is for,
It is for the ones whom we love the best,
It is there to protect them from our core,
By the silent trust we all seek to rest.
And I know how rare that silence can be,
With everyone talkin', it's hard to hear,
But I know I felt it, on the crests of waves,
The sound in her eyes-- it was crystal clear.
And it brought back to mind the rainbowed sails,
And the way it looked like they would collide,
Like two souls set upon fate's iron rails,
But the most perfect silence never died.


--Drake Raft

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In case you were wondering, he's published some co-written stuff in hard copy form, which is available at Amazon.com:

Jollyroger.com: Navigating an American Renaissance

The After Dark Field Book

Eternity in a Grain of Sand: The Most Perfect Silence of Jollyroger.com Poetry

---Jeff

What A Wet

Okay, so, like, we're under a Flash Flood Warning right now.

Of course, that doesn't mean I believe it, right? So's I gotsta' go outside and take a look-see.

Yikes.

The carport.





The front yard. Yeah, yeah, I know: "It's too dark to see it!" Shadaaaap.





The back yard.






---Jeff

A New Raider Legend Is Born

Watch this pigeon help the Raiders take on the Eagles.

I have it on good authority that it's the ghost of Lyle Alzado.

---Jeff

ACORN is nuts.

I'm not a huge fan of Jon Stewart, and he uses some bleeped out foul language in this video, but this is ridiculously funny, and he says some stuff that absolutely needs to be said.

Take a look:


---Jeff


The Audacity of Hos

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Healthcare Protests

So Near, Yet So Far.

I'd completely forgotten about this. I'm taken back to my childhood and Grover on Sesame Street with this video---fun times!!!!!

Some of the things we leave behind when we "grow up" are too precious...

---Jeff

The Revenge Deer Cometh!

The Revenge Deer Cometh!

This is crazy.

I was riding my bicycle home from the County Jail last night. Nothing major. I do it quite a bit, actually. I'm a jail chaplain, and I'm out there twice a week, and I often ride my bike out there on accounta' I need to lose weight. But I digress.

It was around midnight, and my headlight and tail light were both on as I took the bike trail home. For those who don't know, I usually come from the White County Law Enforcement Center where the jail is housed down Queensway to just past the gymnastics place on the right. The entrance to the bike trail is really close by.

I made my right hand turn and realized exactly how dark it is when there are no street lights.

Really dark.

There's somewhat of a long bend to the left after a couple of early turns in both directions. This is where the deer hit me and I went horizontal. Of course, I had no idea that it was a deer. All I knew was that something heavy had hit me and my bike frame at the same time from the left. I was conscious of the fact that I should've hit the ground immediately, but something was keeping me from hitting the ground. As I look back on it, the deer was supporting all of my weight for a short distance. Ride 'em, cowboy! Yee, haw!!!!!!

Then I hit the ground. Hard.

My knuckles curled under the handlebars, and my shoulder hit the pavement while I skidded toward the dirt. When I came to a stop, whatever it was that had been under me wasn't there anymore, and I was curled up over the handlebars with my feet just under the seat.

I looked up to my left, and there was a short period of scuffling (I imagine this was the deer getting to its feet), and then the deer and I were looking each other dead in the face. I'm pretty sure it was laughing at me, having gained revenge on a 12 year old offense—my first deer hunt back in about 1997 or so. It stayed there for about maybe a second and a half and ran off the trail in front of me and to my right.

I extricated myself from the bicycle mess and stood up, carefully taking inventory of my prized extremities that had inadvertently been ground into pastrami upon landing. Just a li'l bit of road rash, bruises and oozing skin. No biggie. The bike was fine—just a bit of straightening the gooseneck and the seat was in order. I was worried about my iPod Classic Video that was clipped to my backpack strap on the same shoulder that I landed on—I've had to fix a shattered screen on it before—but it was none the worse for wear.

As I got back on the bike with slightly elevated respiration and blood pressure, I thought back on the deer's assassination attempt with a bit of sarcasm. No, really. Anything worth doing is worth doing sarcastically. I thought that this deer could bring back my Oakland Raiders' playoff hopes by being hired on as the tackling coach. Maybe playing at Linebacker or Strong Safety.

Oh yeah, this deer is gonna' be an NFL tackling coach. Perfect pursuit angle. Perfect form tackling. Perfect hitting motion. Perfect blind side anticipation.

Come to think of it, I'm calling Al Davis right now...

---Jeff

First Day Practice (July 18, 2009)

We had an all-day practice with sound gear and groupies. Someone actually took pictures this time.

This is I think my first attempt at a slide show with Photobucket.

Enjoy.

---Jeff