Chuck A. Stetson

Chuck A. Stetson
Location
Connecticut,
Birthday
October 13
Bio
she who knows knows and loves me — i am a happy man.

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Chuck A. Stetson's Links

Salon.com
JANUARY 5, 2013 6:00PM

Tell me, Mr. Truth... Is Open Salon Open?

Rate: 7 Flag

Listen Mr. Truth, hey hey, tell it like it is, fly away Thursdays and Saturdays except when you forge a stream singing a song with the ruby-throated sparrow. Change my life, make it right, who knows, she does, do you?

Truthfully there is no peaceful easy feeling, like the billion stars long gone over the desert sand clogging bayous and bathtubs, lover and friends keep whispering in other’s ears and wait as you rub your breasts and fickle-tickle your pickle. Fact or fiction mixed with complicated complications and wishes wished are so dated and figged. Go man go… blow it loud… let us know… everyday... yesterday... tomorrow… right now… refrain…beat the boogie on the Mississippi mud with a mess in your pants.

Still, many count the days you’ve been gone; the train you’ve been riding is sixteen cars too long. You know it, all who know it know it, and to change our diapers and dreams will take six white horses never letting go whilst you whistle hello in any melodic style except creole Tennessean mumbo jumbo jambalaya.

Remember to forget there’s a time to save your money… cash in your soul. In another life somewhere down the line out beneath the cracks and coming in waves rolling like an earthquake under the pavement there’s a disconnect connected to highfaluting hallelujahs booted up and booted out. Try to overdo it and it’ll drive you wild. Once you get started you’re going to stop to bop a flatulent tune with a polar bear jonesing for Eskimo pie... one lb. fish if available.

Alright... okay... hear the news: Some preach wrong and some preach right and some preach love and some preach fight before postulating the pompous pontificator pondering peach pie. Bom bom lulu, someone’s putting down a whole lot of jive. Errant errors sent through and through time straight to you before the proceeds of nothing add-up to the back and forth of hard times gone soft.

So tell me, Mr. Truth, are you walking round and round down and down more and more to the less and less? And why do you feel so fine today? Is your yes indeed all you need? Remember the way you wear those dresses, the sun comes shinin' through, and those who were again believe to the soul you're a one-eyed cat peepin' in a seafood store as the devil red river rocks a hoot and holler beyond the hop where all this mess settles on you.

Shake, rattle and roll!

 

 

 

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Comments

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home home on the deranged
"You Can't HANDLE the Truth"
How nice that the Lone DeRanger can ride again.
The truth is out there..
HUGGGGGGGGGGGG
I'm reading your words so it must be open. Hope it lasts.
"I heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin'"
"I heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin'"
Hi. Rated 'S', as in Sucked. Lol.