I bought this CSN album after my Dad committed suicide, and the song Cathedral played for me for the very first time, and clung to me most profoundly, and I almost had an out-of-body experience, smoking some great herb that I personally grew too, but, I was scared, and I realized, that I'm no more stronger or significant than an ant on a crumb of sugar, or a spider in a well-designed web.
Joe Pat Allen
I met Joe Pat Allen early in my life; he loved sports and enjoyed playing them, too. Joe Pat worked at Burroughs like most adults at his age, either you took seasonal labor outside or you frolicked at some local factory or distillery here in Bardstown.
Joe Pat loved his cold mug of beer at Joe’s and everyone did. Joe’s place was home away from home where all your friends lived after work. Joe Pat was a decent pool shooter but I wouldn't say he was near the best and when he was young before his eyes started to go bad, he won a few bucks. He was decent at foosball, what a game that was; the game was very new to Bardstown, too. The game was invented and patented by Harold Searles Thorton in 1921. A serviceman Lawrence Patterson discovered it in Germany in the 1950s and brought it into the United States. In the 1970s, the game took off like mad! A great game. I practiced endlessly, because I had free access, I cleaned up the tavern. We had some historic games on Joe’s foosball table. The jukebox was right next to it and Joe Lawrence had it loaded up with Wille Nelson, Waylon Jennings, and CSN&Y. The winner got free beer. I played front, but was a great back goalie too. Joe Pat often played goalie as my partner. We played long enough to get drunk, then quit, and watched the World Series, or whatever game was on ESPN, or on the local channels.
Joe Pat was a decent person, he came from a strict Catholic family, they lived less than a mile from St. Joseph’s Church. He was one of the Maple Hill Gang, a neighborhood jof many patrons of Joe’s Tavern. The tavern made everyone come together, it was like a human convention of friends. Friday nights came to be everyone’s Mecca; where everyone prayed to the ever-flowing tap premium beer.
Living in constant pain, the
Physical and mental misery,
Leaves one in a multitude of Hells.
The naivety of ignorant people
Who justify their youth by
Laughing at the old and
Disabled, this world was
Never right for the meek
Where the gentry control
The world.
Oh, the circling vultures refuse to gnaw out my heart
Though the crows mock me as supreme squires with
their judicial caws
I've stumbled on this curse again, will not depart,
This meddling with my God;
Gilded cages, silent rages
Weathered every season
Upon these history pages
Bourne this unspoken reason
Why thy madness beckons me?
To this wreckage of wilt
That lures Me back to thee
And this abundance of guilt.
Watching the squirrels fly
Through the air with ease
Effortlessly these flying
Critters on their limb trapezes.
The bushy-tailed critters love to steal
Every nut that can be heisted
Yet, come the cold wintertime
They become shortsighted.
The absent-minded rodent
Forgot where he stashed the nuts
Digging through the snow
Reckless and starving like a putz.
I just got back from Hell
And all is not well.
I drove my truck
Into bad luck,
Now, I'm fucked.
I sit here in Hell,
And all is not well.
I lost my faith in the Almighty
Loving Aphrodite
Now, it's good nighty.
I just got back from Hell
And all is not well.
