SUN UP, AND I'M ON MY WAY

Part 4     Bongo's Song    (The Way It Really Was)

Natures sleeping
Let's shake it up
InI drums like a wicked child                                              (Pronounced I-n-I)
The sun is down, so let’s get wild
Ed grabs a guitar, Steve's got the fiddle
Leslie and I go dancing down the middle
Neil jumps in playing mandacello
Hair flying, shoes smiling,
When Jeff drops by and lays down the mantle

Don’t shut that beer off, Mr. Keg
Please don't remind us of tomorrow
The sun's not up, it may yet snow
Someone quick, load that bowl

It seams unfair, I just laid down
But the sun's back up, and the crummy's here
I try to remember, just why it is
I lent my hoedad, promised my hand
To manicure mountains in this tortured land
Who bid this contract anyway

Were up in the Yack
It's default time
Down the Canadian border
I'm leading the line

Man some days I don't know why
Lady inspectors get it in their eyes
They either don't care
Or they care too much
"Clean that dust away from this tree
That little weed is going to kill it see"

Up canyon and cliff they test my blade
They challenge me, at my game each day
Cutting out ground, bending the specs
Hiding all my little tricks

                       (They needed a professional for this job)

Hey Megabob, you feeling fast
I need to race someone today
How many can you get in by noon
You got 5 fifty? / Well I got six!
Why do I always beat you like this.

I drag myself on the line each dawn
Beating back heat and sweating like a dog
"I look like a mountain, I bathe in the River'
I do what it takes
To keep contract time"

Say, anyone got a pipe to share

Sundown and I’ve planted a forest out there

Sun up and it seams I'm here to stay
Sculpting the earth, then cursing the clay
Trimming my roots, spacing my trees

Keep that inspector, far away please

I got roots going up
I got roots going down
Wild roots wrapped around
This hole in the ground

Get that inspector out of here!
This isn't what she needs to see

I whack around
In mother natures hair
As quick as I can
I plant my prayer
I stomp the ground
It seams firm to me
Count one more dime
For one more tree

I swat a no-see-um
Blow snirt from my nose                                                           (remember hat black stuff)
Smash a horse fly
Up against my clothes

Someone got a cig to share

Why is it so damn hot out here
My jackets on, my jackets off
It rains, it freezes, the sun is out.

Why is this ground such shit all day
Look, I'm in a bitchy mood , but
I plant my trees, I collect my pay
Just keep that inspector far away.

I whip my hoedad down the line
I got trees to plant
Before they age,
Say these ones don’t look very good today
The bark is slimy, it slides right off

Lady why you digging them anyway
Are’nt there enough reprods in this ground
Can't we say this units done
Let's go home early, have some fun
Ain't your old man waiting for you
You must have something better to do

Can I role you a joint, put in your ear
Get you to look the other way, my dear
While I hurl these trees, over that ridge
It's in another country
No one sees                                                                                                        (sorry)
I got a crummy on the landing,           (note; crummy is a treeplanters work vehicle)
A bag of trees I'm planting
I'm praying real hard, they disappear

Someone find me a hole out here
Show me this trash is plantable
Get me out of this forsaken land
I want to go home, I'm a tired man

I got a view of the mountains
You couldn't believe
When I take my breaks
It's hard to leave
To get back up and chase some Steve,
Pam or Bill, backup this hill

Why do they make them so steep out here
Slow down man or I'll take the lead

All this and they pay me too

If I work real hard
A hundred bucks a day
Fills my pocket
Makes me feel ok

Plus my guru self
Can check off a page
I'm leaving a heritage
For another age

Thank god I don't have to water it now

Sun is up and I'm on my way,
Sundown and I've planted my thousand today
Sundown and I'm massaging this pretty babe
Ssshhhhshhshhh
I think she's sleeping,

Well, maybe I should nudge her and see.

Sun is down and it's time we play!
My hands like to fiddle
Your hips have this wiggle
The stars proclaim
It's you and me

Lets slip away while the moon is bright
Now whose tent is cleaner
Yours or mine
Maybe we should just lay in this field entwined
While silky clouds caress the sky
I think I like your pretty eyes

Pass that pipe around again please.

 

Dedicated to: Davie Cofin, Allen, Mickey (she's strong enough) Jeremiah, Cindy (Robinsong), Shania and her family, ( just one of us who made it big, OK real BIG), Sheryl Crow (are you strong enough), Bongo Bongo, Lynn Nordby, ( call me some time) Pam Wright, (I'm still standing), Bob and LouAnn, Ed and Dennis, Neil, (maker of the finest fiddles, and mandachellos) Stan for saving all of our lives that day, Bracken and the whole ERP Crew , Marty, David and all the land ( let's have a turkey and Mateus party), Edd Wemple, Jan Frost, plus the thousand other good folk from Hoedads, Thumb Crew, Home Grown, Bush Hogs, Glacier Co-operative Exchange, Half and Half, ( still honored to be the first man to walk into your Yurt), Couger Mountain, (Hal, thanks for the book, "Birth of a Co-operative" on the beginnings of Hoedads Inc. so much I never knew, truthfully it was the birth of many a co-operative), Dick Thorn, Welsenburg, and all the other crews I happened to plant with, be it a day , a year, or a life time of memories, so long, long ago.

In honor of the Majestic forests throughout North America
and especially our friends Mary and Gordon, whom the great river swept away so many, many years ago.

Treeplanting legends, one and all.

Legacy, 1/3 of a million trees planted, some living some dead.
Over a half million dollars worth of original pottery made and sold
Massive debts at 18% (eventually sunk the ship)
One life size sculpture, Intimate River, (5,000 plus hours of time and finally, nearly finished) {cause of most of the debts}
Bachelors degree in Agricultural Humanities, The Study of Mans Relationship to Land
(for example of work --- see above poetry)
Seven books of poetry, one children's book, one book on Organic farming
None published until now.
I would like to get these poems, (particularly the two dedicated to her folks,) to Shania Twain. Any help would be appreciated!
In addition I would like to thank Shania Twain, Sarah McLachlin, Jewel, Sheryl Crow, Sarah Brightman, Celine Deon, and Mariah Carey for helping inspire the Intimate River Sounds Poetry, In the fall of 1998  I would often buy new music by these woman to encourage me to work in my ceramics studio late at night, supposedly producing wall sconces for Christmas Shows, but no, suddunly on the lid of a clay box or paper bag, would begin one of these poems. At two in the morning I would be at my computer hacking away at a new poem. Eventually they came together as a life, birth, work cycle of intimate imagery tying into my Intimate River Sculpture.
I would love to share these poems with the above mentioned vocalists. Any help appreciated
The artist asks anyone who is impressed with this website to pass it on to whomever might be interested.
In the end sales is a numbers game, and after 5,000 hours and maybe $10,000s in expenses, I need to find a buyer or investor for my sculpture.
Age 47 , no children yet, never married, who knows what intimate winds will blow.
Hope to live a hundred years from today, survived a left brain stroke, January 1999
Helped start a 500 acre organic farm in South Dakota in the mid 70's , mixed crops, cattle
Associates degree in Computer Information Systems: emphasis, networking. 12/98 (3.95 GPA)
Webmaster Certificate: CSU Extension Course
Looking for work, enjoy web design, webmaster arts, computer graphics
Life assets, not much material wise, lots of soul, good hands, tryed hard to avoid bankruptcy
Heroes of the day. Bob Dylan, Leonardo De Vinche, Martyrs Of Mercy, St. Assisi
Thought for the day, a line is a line is a line, work on it until you get it right.
Then, market the hell out of it.  (note how the lines in my Intimate River Sculpture are as lyrical as my poetry - a line is a line, maybe I'll study architecture next, or go back and plow a field)

Gary Lange: copyright Feb 1999