Junk Morals

Poem, Writing

Meet the Michigan smokestack weather,
We know you say,
O, I got big hands, see!
Shows me you’ve never had the real
good gumbo
Shows me you’ve been willing to steal Wayne County votes
Little fingers, watch the stove top fire, dear.
Sorry dearest mummy,
You never had to remember that one, did ya?

to be continued…

© 2020 Space Cadet WTC

Take a Chance, This Year Off

Poem, Writing

come back soon 

come sooner than later 

come back soon

take it far 

take it wide

gather your senses

collect them how you please 

come back soon and don’t forget me

here’s a dime for every dollar 

here’s a coin for what you’ve spent 

here’s a bit for you and me 

take it closed

take it opened

collect the silver 

save it when you can 

here’s a little something to get you there 

maybe I can help in the end 

it may be that I can

maybe I can move 

to be a part of something new

the beginning is written and sown

maybe I can help the middle grow

been there before 

been there before 

yet again

been there before

take it long

take it far 

sow up my seams

gather my threads 

to make it back when

Ⓒ 2020 W. Cutlip | SpaceCadet | All Rights Reserved


Poem, Uncategorized, Writing

until the mindless hours of night,

flout cellos strain the tunes

shifty shadows.

stagger, under a coronet moon.

rustle of handmade dresses and voiceless chatter,

of dried glands spoiled in milk, guild

the finger painted echo of her

clutching mother’s sooted pea coat.

I listen to paper dolls toss and turn

in her shoe box below the stairs.

A cradle rocks

in my broken stagger’s shadow,

under her coronet crescent moon.

Space Cadet 2020 All Rights Reserved


Poem, Writing

Something I dreamt Mingus say
Nothing, nothing else
I got Lost but I’m back
With a street dream of that house

in an ashtray heart

A curled 16th note corkscrew
floats there.

Only if we’d known we’d lost the money halfway
A lesson floats in that ashtray.
In that heart
On that corkscrew note

Memorial Beach Weekend (part 1)

Poem, Writing

The prez went golfing, the kids went to Daytona to ride waves.
They love each other when the weather ain’t so gray.
I stayed home, runny nose to my toes, bandana over my mouth,
counted the door dash twenty-somethings deliver pizza,
could smell the garlic bread from across the way, uncovered for a breath
like coming up for water, or jousting with a drag off some worldly monument, holding it as a cigar, the Statue of Liberty, or The Moai, one of nine-hundred, and his oversized head, so much for this inhale, what’d gag and crumble almost everyone…

It’s Getting Scary, Stay Calm

A Quick Note, Writing

Yes, this is nothing anyone has seen. It’s mass confusion in some corners; it’s hibernated praying in many rooms, all corners built to prove we’re staying clean and uninfected. I hope everyone stays safe and calm, don’t let cabin fever get to you, and stay sober if you’re working on that. If I can make it through a pandemic without drink, we can make it through anything, my dear. Keep love in your heart for those suffering, strength in your tears for those who continue to care for us out there in the deep where parties used to end…

-Space Cadet

High Time - Jerome J. Garcia / Robert C. Hunter

You told me goodbye, how was I to know
You didn't mean goodbye, you meant please don't let me go?
I was having a high time, living the good life, well I know
The wheels are muddy, got a ton of hay,
Now listen here, Baby, 'cause I mean what I say.
I'm having a hard time, living the good life, well I know.
I was losing time, I had nothing to do,
No one to fight, I came to you.
Wheels broke down, leader won't draw,
The line is busted, the last one I saw.
Tomorrow come trouble, tomorrow come pain,
Now don't think too hard Baby, 'cause I know what I'm saying.
I could show you a high time, living the good life, don't be that way.
Nothing's for certain, it could always go wrong,
Come in when it's raining, go on out when it's gone.
We could have us a high time, living the good life, well I know.

Space Cadet’s Brief Ode To The Grateful Dead. (first Draft)

A Quick Note, A Quick Thought, Grateful Dead News, Writing

The Grateful Dead, whether they knew it, whether they still know it, led the rockers down the backstage hall to the stage said, Here You Go, We’ve Been Here. We’re Still Here. What’s up with you these days? There are times when the point is only to keep doing what you’re doing as much as you can before it kills you. What else do we have to live for sometimes besides the art that eventually kills us? That reinvents young souls. O, such a ringing I hear now in those notes on high, sharp and deep as they are wide, misunderstood and dead-on right. 

It’s no surprise most people don’t know it, didn’t understand them, didn’t get it. Whatever you want to call not digging their music, The Boys are still leading those musicians and the tin-eared oblivious to the stage to join them, Give it a try, Have a go at it, they say. I can hear them all the time while others hear nothing of it at all. I sing and dream to Robert Hunter’s lyrics. I startle awake to Weir’s slide, slip back to sleep with Garcia’s trickling and bright light; it eventually turns gray. Everything does. But what is there to give up on when all’s left to do is to keep moving forward. The Grateful Dead’s lyrics, music, their existence and influence—a craziness that love defines—was a late in the day indecision I chose to go left with love instead of turning right to discover time “will not forgive you, if you will not take a chance.”

The Grateful Dead Show—so funky and fancy plain fun. Space is a jolting, rustling warmth in the soul, and when I look to those skies, it’s hard to believe the coldness of the stars when I get lost in an opened mind set as I continue to circle this earth, above everyday life. I guess that’s what The Dead does for me: they teach me the dangers of deep space travel with no time like now to keep going, so I’ll have another day before I circle, staring below as the crazy kids dance across the world.