Blog Posts

Crave A Revolution

If patience is desired, persistence is the game
A long forgotten memory, is a face without a name
We’ve dismantled all the bridges, to that city on a hill
Transforming all our shovels into weapons that can kill

Your whine, is less displeasing as you age
If you crave a revolution, lift a finger, turn the page

Our songs of celebration, mask our feelings of regret
We stupefy the masses, with every chance we get
Singing lyrics not yet written, with our hands raised in the air
Sharing sermons of concern, just to let them think we care

Your whine, is not as bitter as your rage
If you crave a revolution, lift a finger, turn the page

There could be a great revival, if the dead would loose their grip
We might witness that progression, deep within the fellowship
A twisted sense of reason, leads a charge toward no return
Waiting for a sign, to let us know, that we have just been burned

Your whine, is getting sweeter as we age
If you crave a revolution, lift a finger, turn the page

James F. Ross

A Lifetime of Action

“What’s the world come to, Fatback? What do we now?”

“Have a moment of silence, and commit to a lifetime of action … that’s my unsophisticated recommendation.”

“Some people over in Calamity are sayin’ that what’s happened is a good thing.”

“A good thing? Is that right?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well, I’ve got a jackass that makes more sense than those Calamity Bode lard-heads.”

“That’s a fact.”

“Have the much deserved moment of silence, and then, if you really want to change your small portion of the world, commit yourself to a lifetime of action.”


~ Fatback Jack~

James F. Ross

I Said, She Said … Seeing The Light

These colors.


It’s what you’ve captured.

“Is it?”

Of course it is. You can’t deny your intention.

“I can’t?”


“Yes I can?”


“Which is it? Yes or no?”

It’s no, as in, you cannot deny your intention to capture the colors in this landscape.

“Well, I can.”

Don’t be ridiculous. They’re right here on display, splashed across the canvas.

“If that’s all you see, then your pulp criticism is guided by expectation and form. I’m not painting for color’s sake.”

You’re not?


What are you doing then?

“I’m doing my best to replicate the light.”

The light?

“And the dark.”

The dark?

“It’s the areas where the light begins to fade or is, for the most part, absent … the transitions.”

I see.


What about me?


What about my transitions?

“I haven’t ever considered your transitions.”

That, I have noticed; but what about right now? What do you think?

“Could you slow down your pivot a bit?”

 Like this?

“A little slower … just like that … all the way around.”




“Your transitions are all kinds of cambered curves … with an occasional line or two that draws attention.”

One can only hope … I don’t have any angles?

“Angles? You? I’d need a transit and a box of protractors to cover all your angles.”

 I’ll take that as a compliment. As I was saying, I see … a lot of color.

“That’s okay. Color is good.”

But I do see the light too. Sunset.


Long shadows.

“Could be sunrise.”

Not a chance. I’m pretty sure that I’ve walked through that meadow. Long shadows  stretching in that direction … has to be sunset.

“Then it is.”

You should paint more often. This is very relaxing to look at.


I should come with you next time.

“Next time?”

When you go out to paint another landscape.

“Okay. That would be nice.”

I have a place in mind. It’s special to me.


A hillside. The view from there is amazing. You’d like it. There’s always a nice breeze.


Like I said … always.

“No. I mean when would you like to go. Tomorrow?”

Tomorrow is Sunday.

“Well, after we’re all prayed up and sanctified, you can take me to your hillside.”

Okay; But, leave your paints and canvas here.


We’ll just enjoy the view. You can capture the light some other day.

Sounds good. It’s a date.

Yes, it is … isn’t it.


James F. Ross


The Life Examined

Beautiful precious souls
Rest now, ’till morning rise
Dream-abouts make known
That what might be

And what might be
Is spring in summer
Hand in hand along
Furrowed fields planted

Faith nurturing hope
Patience’s virtue vetted
A voluntary pause in motion
Begins anew the life examined

James F. Ross 


Paint The Moon

Away away seafaring brood
Away to ships and sailing
Traverse again to distant shores
Remember those awaiting

Away away ye kindred kind
Away to gathering be
We’ll paint the moon ’til starry night
Whenever you come home to me

Away away to hinterland
Forever dreaming you’ll be
Arrest your fear to once again
Lay hold the joy you’re seeking

Away away ye kindred kind
Sojourn to gathering be
We’ll paint the moon ’til starry night
Whenever you come home to me


James F. Ross

a repost

Fatback Jack … Absconders of Truth

“Mean backstabbing pretenders of civility and all things sacred? Yeah, those Calamity Bode folks sure have got their fair share. On the other hand, if you’re lookin’ locally for deviant self righteous absconders of the truth, who can, and will, talk both ears off a wounded mule, Sunday morning worship purports commencement at ten o’clock.”

Thanks, Fatback.

“A decent kindhearted feller like you would be keen to keep one hand on your wallet.”

Why’s that?

“It might be free to get in, but it’ll cost you to get out.”

How’s that?

“They like to pass the plate around until there’s no jingle in your jangle.”

Thanks for the heads up.

“My pleasure. Hey, I didn’t catch your name.”

Gibbs. Reverend Jon D.

“You’re the new white-collar?”

No collar, but yes, I am the new pastor of First Church.

“I’d take back what I said about your congregants, Gibby, but then I’d be lying.”

No worries, Fatback. Sounds like they might need a little shepherding.

“Or a good flood to cleanse the whole lot of them.”

Well, a little immersion always benefits the soul.


~ Fatback Jack ~
The Desert Sun Saga – Life In Motion

James F. Ross