Riding High and Heavenly Bound

Riding High and Heavenly Bound

Written by Jonathan Henderson

January 17, 2014 @ 10:02 PM

Cruising at dawn across Route 66,
My lady and I on the Harley are just
 Getting our kicks, and as I'm sailing
Across the river of pavement's heat,

My maiden Rosie Riveter and I sing, as

The radio's our respite to save our soul!

My home amid the hazy skies East
 Of Eden in her Smoky Mountain highs

Remaining always to be of my home
 Sweet home: for it is my rocky top

Abode, always so soulful amid the
 Moonshine stills in old East Tennessee:

The volunteer spirit always to course 

Through me, and the veins rendering

Upon me of the life betrothed with my
 Mother Nature by Him: Lord Thy God!

Along the bend we roll, riding through
 Bayous and ascending jagged canyons,

And we are both feeling so high as we soar
Above the big and lovely Montana skies:

The wild blue yonder never appeared as
 Such a beaut as it does now on this day

As we coast across this old luscious sea
 Of green and her amber waves of grain.

Oh! I am riding high, friends!

I am riding high! For I indeed

Am heavenly bound and sent

Till I find my trove of treasures

Beneath that rainbow of mind!
Dear Mother Nature: Be kind!
'Tis my wanderlust of pleasures!

Over her bridge of old Mississippi at the
 Divide's Gateway Arch, I dig of his saintly
 Entrenchment upon the New Madrid Fault.
 I seek a little taste of hemp herbs high atop
 The glacier caps of Rocky Mountains' peaks!

Trees! So many lovely trees! And all those

Evergreen trees so far as my eyes can see!

And I feel as if upon today, I am sailing
 Across a sea of skies as if upon the wings
 Of a dream! And upon approaching the arid

Soils, the desert forks one, two, and three:

The city of the mythical bird, then to sinful
 Casinos of Vegas lights, until I drive north,
 Rosie and I, to buy tickets to Prophet Joe's
 Holy Land upon the shores of Utah's famed
 Tabernacle Choir near old Great Salt Lake.

Oh! I am riding high, friends!

I am riding high! For I indeed

Am heavenly bound and sent

Till I find my trove of treasures
Beneath that rainbow of mind!
Dear Mother Nature: Be kind!
'Tis my wanderlust of pleasures!

I wish to see the infinite descending rains of
The Northwest forest's gifts and to partake
 Upon a cup of Joe, and a nibble on an English
Hankering for a scone; I desire her majestic
 Cascades, those mounts upon fair Puget Sound,

And a space needle never to fly to space amid
 The heavenly bliss as I drive fancying sci-fi!

The Experience never sounded better at old
Woodstock '69 than it does upon my cranking
 Hell from my radio: For Rosie and I serenade

Of the slight return of a poor child akin to
Those residing amid the Creole folk parading
  Le Rue Bourbon in the city of old New Orleans!

Turning South we shall do, partaking of
 Oregonian trails and her blazers, too; but it's

To the artist formerly known as the Bear
 Republic to where I'll flee! Flee! Free to be!

I shall partake upon the beauts of Redwoods
And her majestic Sierra Nevada mounts East,

Only to cruise Bay Side but avoid the isle's hole,
 As "The Rock" still apprehends the con within!

Soaring more paved river slopes till I reach
 My counterculture amid a moonlit night, oh
 Haight-Asbury! Let me sail with Rosie, and
 Set our course across the Bay, through the fog,

Till it will necessitate that I seek to drive once
 Again, now across the Golden Gate, and that
Suspension of the soul a-sway to my being!

Oh! I am riding high, friends!

I am riding high! For I indeed
Am heavenly bound and sent

Till I find my trove of treasures

Beneath that rainbow of mind!
Dear Mother Nature: Be kind!
'Tis my wanderlust of pleasures!

L.A.! Where, sir, have you been?

 You've been away since I was half

Past ten! And all the films you shot

Remain mysterious to little old me,

As I am just a simple old country boy

From a Great Smoky Mountain cabin;

But for now, I shall seek fossils within

Your La Brea tar pits and the heat it

Wrought; your San Gabriel mounts

Surrounding a rose of a township;

To snap the photographs of man's 

Betrothal to Mother Nature as he

Proclaims amorous ubiquity of those

Hollywood lights, shining so bright

Amid the darkest Tinseltown nights!

To Chavez Ravine I flee! Me, Rose!

We flee for our Bud and Dodger Dogs;
Viewing the game till the Stretch; then to

The Chinese Theater for a pilgrimage,

As upon those sacrosanct seats laid

Once and so many times the bottoms

Of the many and rich of those thespians.

I shall fly as one with the bald eagles!

Fair America has called me Home!

But have I ever really denied her love

When I never left her shores nor womb?

Oh America! How I do love thee! Oh

How I see of thee my soul within, so

Deprived of a joy so simply attained

Unlike I hear of our forefathers' tongues

So collectivized and yet in tight quarters

Just a scant clipper and a schooner away

To sail across the tempest's raging pond

Of the Atlantic! But I shall forever seek

A good time in God's sunny azure skies to

Beg for me a pass and a wink from my

Fair Lady Liberty off the coast of the

New York islands; her Brooklyn Bridge

Shall always remain the golden standard

Even as the crossing at the Bay of the

Same namesake shall doubtless argue.

But for a soul descriptive such as moi 

To proudly stake claim as an American

Is to hearken upon a sacred covenant

With The Creator where for all time,

We live to serve Him and those of less

Because we are free! Free to see! To be

One ideologically begat with the fruits of 

Our labors and their sweat resulting in 

The cries amid occasional broken souls

And those of the backbone, but never

To let our resolve as a people endowed

With liberty to cross the River Jordan,

For the Wall of Jericho to fall upon us,

But of the greatest import, to live happily

Because we are free!  Free to live our gift

From Him: An unbridled, begotten liberty.