Pony Payroll Bones talkin Randy Travis Part II: What’s in a name Mr. Traywick?
by Matthew PonY Bones

This sure is last month’s stale bread soaked bread soaked in Kentucky bourbon as well as the bloody puddle testifying at the gas station robbed for lottery tickets, baptized in metaphysical homicides. The story of the hero continues through the fractured path of the past. Pony Payroll Bones enjoys the occupation of grave digger among many other things. Here, look at the hole I have dug. I do not care if he stays out of the spotlight for his transgressions from now on. He is a marked man marked by Pony Payroll Bones. Randy Traywick is a myth that embodies country music.

Harold Traywick experienced fundamental misfortune with those turkey farm incidents. Harold reduced to the fate as been often understood as incidental. Does the story begin and begot with Father Traywick. Mr. Father Trouble?

The man would occasionally play the honky tonk and country bars. North Carolina. South Carolina. Carolinas in trouble. Mr. Father trouble wrote plenty of country songs he wrung out of the kerosene soaked rag called trouble. Trouble called a trouble with living. Then he begot a son.

Harold is a drinking man, quick to shoot out car windows. Suffer those fools. He may be the unknown vessel of God’s wraith upon the stupid and wicked and most importantly, the more stupid.

Harold Traywick is Randy’s father. Randy Traywick is Randy Travis.

Randy---Randy---1976 Broke into Nicey Grove church. His buddies helped him. His buddies always helped him. They had some kind of beer drinking party. Beer drinking party! What do , done and does occur at a teenage beer drinking party. Sexualized decapitated Heifer heads. Cow paddies slung at the church pews and God took very good details of the incident for future procedures.

Mr. Travis, once a ringleader---teenage guttural passions. He is driving hard a stolen firebird sports car around this specified ring of hell. There are thousands upon quadrillionth rings of hell. All these rings of hell also have peculiar even more supernatural manifestations ---where the fracture malevolence violently manifests expression.

Violations. The geography and placement and procedure. On his 17th birthday, he stood in court. Long criminal records. Long criminal records for all three brothers.

Father came to the shows and could not help himself enough. Father trouble came to the shows and could not behave himself.

Harold, angry at son, Randy Travis. They are in the parking lot----Randy Travis has found inspiration in mundane parking lots slurring his way into the true honor and honesty of country music. We are born to lose.

They, those monsters called father and son, at this past conjecture were accidentally still sharing the last name of Traywick. Traywick, the blood name. The hero needs a stage name or he wouldn’t be a hero. He would be the son of a man who lived out the fatalities of failure.

Things get ugly in the parking lot of the music club. Harold, Mr. Father Trouble drove his car into the side of the music club in discussion. He slammed that car into that those bricks with acute radical anger. CRASH! Kerblam! Ye among you seeketh my anger? It is pure and purely pure. I am Father Trouble, who enacts the manifestation of anger vengeance into the physical realms. Do you feel the physicality? My accumulations of a life that has truly lived country songs----The life is not incidental. The life has come before these songs!

The judge had requirements. Young Mr. Travis should attend counseling sessions. Therapy sessions. Who were these counselors and advisors of emotional expression?

The judge had requirements that young Mr. Young. Randy Travis attend counseling sessions. Was this psychological warfare? Those questions stolid and stiff addressed the young lanky man.
Why do you raise hell?

Why do you like to raise hell?

Randy Travis always the mad mad one--the confused confounded twang shaman in apprenticing yet he had no master. He was sometimes always and forever considered the wayward son. Son of a bitch. Mr. Travis could not articulate soundly for the fools. He mouthed off in silence. He mouthed off in resentment (s).

4/4 bass drum sound on “Digging up Bones”----------

I am indebted to Don Cusic’s 1990 bio on Randy Travis also called Randy Travis.
CreazY-------slack jaw sleaze.