A written history of Bobby Jameson and his search through the past. Working my way back through the jungle of drug addiction and booze. My family life as a kid was the breeding ground for addicts. No self worth, no help, and one chance to get out alive. Music was the horse I rode out on...and the music business was the horse I rode into hell. Pronounced dead twice from drug over doses, I lived to tell how the pursuit of fame is as deadly as any narcotic I have ever used.
Restored Pages
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Sunday, March 8, 2009
(part 153) CROSSCUT SAW
CROSS CUT SAW
RIPS AND TEARS
FACE A WOODEN
BLANK THAT STARES
CHILD INSIDE
CAN PLAY SOME MORE
WHILST THE GUARD
IS AT THE DOOR
PEOPLE COME
WITH TWISTED LIPS
WORDS LIKE BLOOD
ON FINGERTIPS
LIES OF SMILES
ARE STACKED WITH NUMBERS
BY THE GUARD
WHO NEVER SLUMBERS
LEAN LIKE STEEL
CABLE STANDING
CARBON GRAY
THE GUARD COMMANDING
EVERY NAME
AND LINE OF FACE
OF THOSE WHO DARE
TO FIND THIS PLACE
SACRED CHILD
DIAMOND KNIFE
PROTECTED BY
THE GUARD'S OWN LIFE
KNOWS EACH HEART
THAT COMES TO CALL
ALLOWS OR
DISALLOWS THEM ALL
FROM SEEING THE CHILD
OR FEELING LIGHT
THE GUARD ALONE
DECIDES THEIR PLIGHT
Robert Parker Jameson
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