www.blackcattips.com

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 18:38:00 +0000

Blackcattips blog has moved to a new location.

Stop by and see what is new.

Look here!

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Fri, 31 Jul 2009 13:14:00 +0000

so is this the last day?

i still dont know.

my arm is itching.

Walking in East Atlanta

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 19:17:00 +0000

I saw this sunset Thursday night.

Dia del padre

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 15:53:00 +0000

Sun is hot
the night offers little
baby under shade tree
sometimes i see big bugs
i found a bullet in the woods
old man with nothing to do
strong winds moving green leaves
all the fish have died
orange green blue red
i have not eaten
the splash of water
sundown by the shore
sweet recognition
a soft mother's touch
she worries about him
he is thankful for her
polaris and the big dipper
hand in hand
we all are in need

Big big cloud

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 20:59:00 +0000

This was taken by the Avondale Marta station last night.

a bunch of sketches

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Sun, 07 Jun 2009 02:29:00 +0000

Cattails

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 00:42:00 +0000

Steve Crane - Stone Mountain Toyota

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 00:49:00 +0000

On my website I have some videos I made about Stone Mountain Toyota. I was always entertained and inspired by Steve Crane's sincere approach to advertising. Thanks to my dad I found out that now his videos were available online. I hope that you will find these ads as life changing as I have. Enjoy...

My videos of Stone Mountain Toyota

Steve Crane's original Stone Mountain Toyota commercials

Bear

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Sat, 30 May 2009 16:58:00 +0000

My friend Bobby Brett saw a bear the other day.
He said it ran really fast.

tree sky box sky

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Wed, 27 May 2009 03:15:00 +0000

Hal Wright

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Sun, 24 May 2009 18:30:00 +0000

I saw this on tv today.
This guy is very inspiring to me.
Flying an airplane. Writing a newspaper. 92 years old.
Don't fall down a hole in the ground.
Fly an airplane instead.
Watch the video here

Buttermilk Clouds

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Sun, 17 May 2009 17:01:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Sat, 16 May 2009 19:13:00 +0000

I look up...

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 11:34:00 +0000

Winter trees and hills of snow

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 01:52:00 +0000

Ink Black Night

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 03:05:00 +0000

Ink black night
water flows by the curb
soft feather touch
street lights in the city
oak trees with their newborn leaves
muted laughter
cackle on the corner
relay the skies to me
green eyes on a side street
orange earthbound lantern stars
carry me home
light my way
ink black night
the echo the echo

Incandescent Blues

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 02:42:00 +0000

Smile at you out of the corner of my eye.
Drink a warm cup of tea.
I stood on the marina's edge and overlooked the green sea.
How can someone be so happy?

Time leaves you in the dust
and the things you remember you miss so much.
Riding down through Thompson's pass.
Blue hearted ice flows.

You sit in your corner chair.
I watch you there.
A lightly touched piano sings away.
Evening lamp light casts an orange glow.
The wooden chair creaks.
incandescent blues

Paint your face blue and red and pink.
Ride the riverboat with me in the dark.

Springtime in Atlanta

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Sat, 04 Apr 2009 18:12:00 +0000

Long time a comin

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Sat, 04 Apr 2009 13:12:00 +0000

Long time comin
Thats what they told us
Its been a long time comin boy
and you aint seen nothin yet
Its been a long time comin

Jesse swung the pick axe
Swing it again
Sparks and rocks and noise and spark
Sweat on his brow and a handkerchief at hand
Its been a long time comin

Get them mules
Gather up the men
Send a telegram to Mister Gentry
Its been a long time comin

The men gathered round with buckets in hand
Feet to go, mere inches between them and glory
Bust it up, crank it out
Peel the Earth back
God's blessed soil

Its been a long time comin
I hear you callin me
Lighting bolts split the sky asunder
Storm gray clouds show up with Brother wind
Blow and bust and whirly spin

Sarah waits at home
Jesse's child at foot
Biscuits at hand
Cooks and cleans for her greasy dirty man
and her door swings wide
He told her she would have to wait
Day grows dim

Night falls
Torches bright
Men work solid into the night
Optimistic outlooks fade
Desert crickets sing a serenade
Silence and nothing but silence

All the men with picks in hand
Father Earth burts forth
Buckets full of gold and oil
Squeeze the fertile soil
Dust to the mouth
Smiles form on the edges of darkness
Thank the Lord for his gifts
Thanks he Lord
Its been a long time comin

Green grass

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 01:24:00 +0000

It was a pasture man!
With green grass and fences too.
Spring grass cool to the touch.
It used to be a pasture man!
With cows and milk inside!
Milk made by cows, fed by hand.
Green grass is better.
Green grass of home on the other side.
Brahma and nubian goats
and the aforementioned bulls.
A stream and songbirds
and a simple life.
Man oh Man how dirt replaces time.
Filth and the containers of filth.
My family grew the grass.
The green grass of yesteryear.
the green history before my time
I long for the times past Man!
Times greener and cleaner.
Times with a fresh breathe of simplicity.
Lay me down.
Lay me down in a bed of grass.
I watch the clouds pass.
A cow and the milk.
All gone. All gone.
At least in my mind I know it was.
I know how clean and green.
My memory. A place of peace for thee.
Do not see it now. Do not think of how.
Only a place of rest for thee.

Rain rolls down

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 23:57:00 +0000

The buzz of the amplifier. The cold coffee turning colder. The rain rolls down the single-ply glass pane. It is Saturday in late March.

Squirrel at my work

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Fri, 20 Mar 2009 02:32:00 +0000

I just went to the break-room. Got some coffee. I then looked out the window at the late winter morning. Looks more like spring. I look in the maple tree about twenty feet from me and see a Eastern Gray Squirrel. He was positioned in a nook between a large limb and the trunk. His two bottom feet were clamped to the limb and his front arms folded underneath him. He had large round brown eyes. He was still as a statue. But then I thought, "What is he thinking?" So the question remains. What was this squirrel thinking? Do squirrels think? At what was he staring? Was a ferris wheel of thought turning through his mind? "Where are my nuts?" "What about that leak in my nest?" "Is it time to clean my tail?" "How am I going to find a mate when I have fleas?" I just can't live with the fact that a squirrel has no individual free-thoughts. I am sure that he is not in that tree as I write this. He has moved on to do other rodent-esque activities. I wish I knew what made him tick. He seemed to be very agitated in general. I should know. Over the course of a year period I captured and relocated about (52) fifty-two such beasts. All were angry and agititated. I let them go in a Baptist church parking lot about a mile from my house. They wanted to claw my eyes out or perhaps worse. They would spring forth from the catch-and-release trap like an mis-aligned catapult. Shot from guns! Out of the truck and into the woods and up a tree. I have no answers only observations and a list of questions. I think it is out of the question to be friends with a squirrel. Too much anger. Too many claws. Too many rodent instincts. I just keep asking myself," If I had a 4 foot long fluffy tail would it change my life?" I guess it depends on how fluffy it actually was.

La Sal Ridge

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Sat, 14 Mar 2009 03:01:00 +0000

Which seems better to you? Shall I ride a train or a bus. Would it be better if you left me in the fall with a gray rain or a summer evening. Sweat on my brow. Bags in my hand. Two days ago things seemed so cheery. So much sunshine. I smell smoke. The tip of your fingernail is broken. I unwrap a piece of cornbread my sister packed for me on the trip out here. I didn't mean it. I can figure it out. I wish we had second chances. Instead of down here in this train car I wish I was high on La Sal ridge. Looking up at the stark white precipice. Wind in my ear. Glare in my eyes. We talked about what we would cook for dinner. I close my eyes again. I feel the humid heat from the steam release. The blast of air. We move. You only live in my dreams now. Only think of the good things. No sense of time. No order or rhyme. A patchwork of people I know and knew and YOU. Preachin' and teachin'. I see the same few people over and over in different forms. I am never any closer to them. My brain will never let them go. If you read between the lines you only see white. I will plant a field of white flowers. I will paint the sunshine. I will speak your name.

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Sat, 14 Mar 2009 02:57:00 +0000

Sunflowers

noreply@blogger.com (Kyle Brooks) — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 03:50:00 +0000

Sunflowers and bugs. Tiny bugs and bees. That is all I could see. Beautiful sunflowers and you were happy. You were laughing. Mostly at me and the bugs. You laughed with your eyes. A million yellow hearted flowers. Flowers on the side of a long black country road. Far as the eye could see. Around the bend. Flowers and trees and bugs and a road. The hot summer afternoon sun. Smile for me in the sunshine.