This morning I pulled into the parking lot
Of my ancient office inside Archie's Whorehouse
And saw a dust devil swirling around a smashed ICEE cup
Right in the center of my space.
I took it as an omen,
Like the time a painted bunting perched right next to my head
When I was blue
And looked me in eye like God.
I thought about tomorrow,
July The Fourth.
Yes, the sun will come up tomorrow,
Jesus will roll away the stone
And if he sees his shadow tomorrow morning,
We'll have six more weeks of summer!
Let's shoot off some firecrackers for Jesus!
Let's do some fireworks to uphold the Kingdom of God
Or maybe even just to destroy it.
And I then I thought about those 4 original heads.
Each one from my Daddy's generation,
Not a draftee in the bunch.
The original dropouts
Who discovered that there was a little organized crime
In every organization.
And I thought about my Daddy,
Working his ass off on top of a mountain of bennies,
And I thought about Kesey and Grogan playing imaginary football
As they ran down Haight street,
And as soon as I got out of my truck
I looked up into the clouds of my Alabama SKY
And thanked the Good Lord for all the times
He let me get high with some nooky.
Then I knew it was time to go to work.
Ain't love grand?!!!!!
Is this not a great country or what?!!!!!!!!!!!!

-- Robert Register



FRIDAY, JULY 1, 2005

Skypilot Darrin Brenner-Rolat, graphic artist extraordinaire did up a beet resurgence explosion for us. Congrats to Darrin for winning the poster design contest for this year's High Sierra Music Festival which is going on right now. For more info on that, go to:


 You say The Beats? Oh my, oh dear...
I was born too late, I fear.
'60's when I came to be-
Is there a shread of hope for me?

I barely caught the hippie craze-
Guess I've been breathing too few days.
Of Beats, my knowledge seems to lack-
Just what I've read- like Kerouac.

The Beats: I think of folk concerts-
Bongo drums and dark striped shirts
Coffee bars and cigarettes-
Goatees, dark shades & Stanley Getz.

A SkyPilot I proudly be
But much too young for a beatnik, you see
For all those years in On The Road
I was just a seed waiting to be sowed.


The seventies was when I soared
Touched the magic- was never bored-
Became an artist- fed my head...
Even followed the Grateful Dead-

Yeah- there was Jerry- and looking back
There is Ginsberg and there's Kerouac
Neal and of course, Kesey
The bus, the tests, and here we be

So maybe there's some truth to heed
Those Beats did really plant the seed.
So for us folks that are on the bus
Theres' a bit of Beat in all of us!


-- Skypilot Darrin Brenner-Rolat



Forgot to say that on the Fourth we will also be doing a dip tank where you can dip anything that will fit in the tank which is huge, a hot tub full of water with paint floating on top. To see what dip painting is all about, go to:


White things get the best dip results.

We will also have long pieces of butcher paper for everyone to draw and write on in a Beat manner. Bring markers and sharpies and crayons.

Giant bubble man is coming to do giant bubbles.
-- kb

 When did the beat become plural?
Beats me! Or did it?
When the beats eat eggs
do they beat them?
before they eat them?
How do they treat them?
Dead beat
off beat
Beets are a treat
for the beats
-- Off beet phil. slypilot
 Whether you're
behind it
ahead of it
on it
at least your part of the beat
beats silence
-- kirko
 When did the beat become plural?
When more than one person
picked up the beat and
then they became Beats
an actual movement
-- capn skyp
 the silent beat
that's a good one
done telepathically
in the O'Reilliken Galaxy
-- capn skyp

MONDAY, JUNE 27, 2005

In a red white and blues summation of the great creative spirits, this year's Fourth of July picnic and skypilot barbecue will have as its theme, A BEAT RESURGENCE, wherein the entries in the poetry contest will fulfill the requirements of the theme, and the music will do likewise.

Or as Phil put it: Keep the beat with the Beats. Or is that Beets. The beats do beets. Mashed beets, smashed beats it's all the same to me. Are the beets beats, red, is that what you said? Commies, red as a beat beet could be. What is red and white and blue and read all over? A beat poem.

 Bee a Beat
Bee a Beet
In the flow
Time to go.
-- Still Phil
 Bring beatitudes
Beat bongos
Berate berets
Besotted by burgundy
-- capn skyp

 If when finding yourself in a hole
Gripping the dirty end of the poll
And feeling the imprint of the Earth
Stamped into your holey sole
Feet as black as coal
Facing another empty bowl
Missing that sweet jelly roll
You discover the words begin to roll
And you are typing out of control
Then you are a beat down and dusty old road soul

And what kind of jazz beat do you beat beat?
In a hut with the downbeat?
In a town with the upbeat?
Riding a bus with the offbeat?
Looking out for the on the beat?
Was your family nice and neat?
Did Dad live on the street?
Does caviar leave you replete?
Or is egg on toast a real treat?
Whatever beat your fleet feet do
I'm red, white and blue for you.

--Andy J, #115