COLUMNS
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Kountry Korral
with Mr. Midnight
Pam Tillis: Homeward Looking Angel
Sufferin and even bloomin with some kind of ancient agony in hearts beaten an whipped like mistreated animals, thar's a kind of true love thar. Else you's dyin the death a sorra an worldliness from which thar's no return for ye. I paid a call on a gal afflicted with tha loss a her own true sweetheart tha other evenin. Ye could smell dusk an horra an a sort a despration when ye stept pas the threshold a her trailer. She gathered me to her like a crop or loins that can feed a mouth that has bin starvin and full a hunger and longin for as long as time was a known thing. I pusht her back cause she was touchin a part a me at I hadn't let the hands of humans feel for a while. Not meanin my pecker, pecker bein full with a red flood a birth an pleasure; more or less jus tha secret wound in me that joined me with erry other lost and beaten thing that's ever drawn breath on our forsaken earth. Of a sudden she acted as though snakebit by mah recoilin an she struck me in tha face several times without cawse or warnin. Without a thought, Ah grabbed her by her throat an pulled her offa her feet, slammin her inta her front door, screamin curses an abominations at her all tha wahl. There was a kind a hush an somethin final an near death. Her eyes was nearly out a her head an seein her like that, Ah felt some sort of tenderness and wild longing for all the bullied, brokenness thar is and ever has been. Ah reacht tward her with my lips an Ah let go a her neck. She pusht me back an Ah falt on the steps leadin up to tha bathroom an she follered me with her body shiverin with desire and hurt things. We fuckt like we's the first organisms that God had calt from tha darkness a creation, like thar had ne'er been sin or the recognition a it. All the while, the Pam Tillis record “Homeward Looking Angel” roared in tha background like a distant storm. An so with her where she should be in my wicked heart an you acquainted with our position in the dyin world I'll have occasion to talk about tha aforementioned album. “How Gone is Goodbye” asts a question I'll jus bet you (you bein the lost sort) have had the chance to ast yusself oncet or maybe twicet in yuhr life, haven't ye? Well tha plot a tha ballad hurts ye bad; a woman stands at the mouth of a rivar and drowns childern by tha barrelful. Earth's got enough life and livin, I guess that's what Tillis is hollerin about? Watchin those tiny, drownt bodies float down that nameless river, she comes to wonder is thar anythin worth bein called death? Is thar an end to anythin? As she dives down to the bottom of that rivar to seek some sort a finality, well you can only suppose she don't believe that thar is. And as her dead body is carried to the sea and eternities a scaldin purity, we can only assume thar ain't. I wonder if “Love Is Only Human” (a duet with Marty Roe, a Diamond Rio fame) contains more filth and heartache than ought ta be allowet? If I was the Great Organizer a things on heaven an this vile earth, I'd be hard prest to say. Guess it mus be bout ahl these people bin taken by force inta this cellar in a decrepit ol farmhouse. Ever so offen this feller would come down with his prick harder than an evergreen tree in the winter and fuck whomever got in his way. In tha distance thay could hear trains and hard, meaninless werk by people who sufferert without understandin. Purty soon, though a fire comes from tha dark trees out in tha woods as an agent a mercy and burns them all alive, past all the fuckin and bein fucked forever by tha fuckin wayward cocksuckers that run things down here. “Let That Pony Run” is almos nearly a touchin tale bout the horse a dreams, stalkin and woundin an callin us inta the misery and vibrance a life. Instead a runnin my dogshit mouth bout it, I'll include some of the words for ye: Black Horse, hooves pounding in the
mud/Shuddering genitals streaked with my dark blood/Black Horse, coming to wound and to violate/Phallus erect to pierce and to penetrate. Yessir, thar's a truth to it, even as ye lie to yurself with erry breath out a yur false mouth. So, lissen to this album, I guess that's what I'm hintin at? Specially when you're hurtin yuhself and the true love within ye.
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