My Words for You

Words on a page,
Typed or inked
They’re washed away
With fear and doubt and lack of age.
Yet they come back, inseparably linked,
Showers in April/ those darling buds in May.

They are the words I feel for you.
That make leaps of faith,
From mind, to heart, to the outside world.
‘Cross the canyon of my will, they sometimes fall,
But sometimes they soar, once and for all.

So, for you, I constantly write.
I constantly fight and try as I might,
My words, at times, will fail along the way.
But that’s OK.
Even then, I still feel them,
Of every hour of every day.

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Who Picks Up the Pieces?

When the bullets fall, who picks up the pieces?
Those on the thrones in a far off land,
Or the mothers and fathers losing sons and nieces?

When the bullets fall, who cleans it up?
The huntsman and his bow, lead in tow,
Or the mothers and fathers, now short a pup?

When the bullets fall, who buries the blood?
The conspiratorial rants, the anonymous threads,
Or the mothers and fathers, their hearts made mud?

Who picks up the pieces?

Great Childhood Songbook: Vol. 1

A collection of original hits I found while rummaging through my old kid stuff. Enjoy! #publicdomain

“Mr. Bunnie”
WHO SAYS THE BUNNING CANT JAM
MR. FOX SAYS THE BUNNIE CANT JAM
SO MISTER FOX AND THE BUNNING TOOK
A RACE IN THE DUNNY
THE FIRST OBSICLE WAS THE TOILET
MR. BUNNIE JUMP OVER WITH GREAT EASE
BUT MR. FOX OH NO
HIS TAIL GOT CAUGHT
MR. BUNNIE JUMPED UP AND FLUSH DOWN

“The Old Fashion Ways”
THE OLD FASION WAY
WHERE YOU COULD GO INTO OLD FASHION BARS
DRIVE IN OLD FASHION CARS
LETS DO IT THE OLD FASHION WAY

SURE THERE ARE FIGHTS
BUT THE STARS ARE ALWAYS BRIGHT.

SO THERES NO TROUBLE
UNLESS YOU BLOW A BOUBLE FROM AN OLD FASHION GUM
YOU WOULD GET KICKED IN THE BUM
AT THE SOUND OF THE GUN.
LETS DO THE OLD FASHION WAY.

“Home on Rage”
HOME HOME ON THE RAGE
WHERE THE DEAR AND ANTOLOPE PLAY.
WHERE MASQIUTOS BUZZ AROUND ME
AND THE CAYOTES HOWL IN THE BEUTIFUL NIGHT SKY.

HOME HOME ON THE RANGE
WHERE THE ANIMALS PLAY FUN GAMES.
THE FISH PLAY MARCO AND POLO, THE BIRDS PLAY TAG.
THEN THE HUNTERS PUT THEM IN BAGS.

HOME HOME ON THE RAGE
WHERE THE WOLVES LIKE TO PLAY FUN GAGS.
SO THEY ATTACKED THE HUNTERS WITH THE BAGS
ANS SET THE ANIMALS FREE.

“Mountians and Fountians”
THERE A PLACE CALLED YELLOWSTONE
WHERE THERES A YELLOWSTONE NATIONOL PARK.
NO YOU BARF UP YUOR FOOD

LIKE ALL THE OTHER TOURISTS.

YOU SEE PRETTY, PRETTY, PRETTY, PRETTY MOUNTIANS
WHERE THERE ARE PRETTY, PRETTY, PRETTY, PRETTY FOUNTIANS.
THAT SHOOT UP FROM GROUND

Part: 2

THERE ARE NO CITY POUNDS.
YOU COULD SEE PRETTY, PRETTY, PRETTY, PRETTY FOUNTIANS
AT PRETTY, PRETTY, PRETTY, PRETTY MOUNTIANS

“God’s Train”
CHUGGA, CHUGGA, CHUG, CHUG,
CHUGGA, CHUGGA, CHUG, CHUGG.

HOP ON GOD’S TRAIN
HOP ON GOD’S TRAIN.

HEALL TAKE YOU TO THE HEAVENS
HEALL TAKE YOU TO THE GREAT BEYONDS.

HOP ON GOD’S TRAIN
HOP ON GOD’S TRAIN
YOURLL HAVE THE GREATEST LIFE.

HOP ON GOD’S TRAIN
HOP ON GOD’S TRAIN.

HEALL TAK YOU TO THE KINGDOMS.
THE ANIMAL KINGDOM,
THE PLANT KINGDOM.
AND ALL THE KINGDOMS.

HOP ON GOD’S TRAIN
HOP ON GOD’S TRAIN.

 

HEALL TAKE YOU EYERYWHERE
HEALL TAKE YOU ANYWHERE.

JUST HOP ON GOD’S TRAIN.
HEALL DESTROY ALL EVIL SPIRITS.

HOP ON GOD’S TRAIN

HOP ON GOD’S TRAIN

HEALL TAKE YOU EYERYWHERE
HEALL TAKE YOU ANYWHERE.

JUST HOP ON GOD’S TRAIN
AND YOURLL HAVE THE HAPPIEST LIFE.

 

Mind Clinger

It may be official,
Finally and at last,
Your presence is a missile,
Coming in fast.

A dream that never ends,
You’re with me through the day,
I’m walking past friends,
It’s been that way since May.

Thinking of last night,
I’m hitting rewind.
Despite all my might,
You’re always on my mind.

Fire

A slow burn, this love.
Kindling, crackling – a flicker is born –
A hurried breath of life – grows the warmth.

Fuel is added, slowly but surely,
As the heat licks the knolls –
Climbing higher – feeding itself.

A frenzy is whipped into existence,
Consuming logs and branches and hearts and hands,
Dancing into the star-spangled heavens.

Powered by supernova bands of radiance,
There is no coolant for the blasts of galaxies, 
Booming in the cosmos of eternity.

The rays of fire have more important goals at hand – the opulent transgressions of interstellar heat, forcing it’s way through the cracks of our hearts.

But for now, by the campfire,
With our whisky,
We’re warm enough tonight.

September 12, 2017

 

Lamp Light

Your eyes shimmered in the lamp light when I expressed my love,
Like two blue lakes swelling their banks,
On the cusp of flooding the space of time and night.
Perhaps the moon kept them at bay,
Perhaps the moon will open the gate,
Joining the lamp in illuminating the fight of two hearts
Spinning
And reeling
In angst and delight.
You cozied up to me –
You touched my arm –
I promised to never do you harm.

To be continued…