sunday verses #8

PLAYERS SONG (date unknown)

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

the end has come 
lights gone down
crowds are gone
strides across 
this sawdust clown

baggy pants
dirty shirt
worn out shoes
treading through
another broken town

hotel room
lonely bulb
peeling paint
dingy and dank
inhabited mold drown

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

the naked man 
in the bathtub
smokes a cigar
wearing the painted 
face of a clown

milky surface
soapy water
shimmers like diamonds
one deep breath
he’s sliding down

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

warm wet meditation
wraps up the man
mind quiet, at peace 
distant thunder 
smoking cigar lifeline 

rising up
paint-stained flesh
reveals the man
washed renewed naked
suffering reality frown

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

sunday verses #6

POEM FOR LATE AUTUMN (*composition date unknown most likely sometime between 2007-2009)

Skeletal beauty
Parade of bones
Rooted in mire
Grasping heaven

A bridge between divine and profane

Waiting for winters blanket 
Redemption in white
Covering past sins
Peace and rest in a season of sleep

*while I don't remember when this was written I do know it was inspired by a line "snow falling, falling like forgiveness from the sky" in the song "Darling Christmas is Coming" by Over The Rhine from the album SNOW ANGELS (2006)
https://youtu.be/IinpwBPwRZI

sunday verses #5

10/27-28/21
ENTER THE EVENING

A shadow crept across early evening.
As I was retrieving the mail
I stopped in my tracks and looked up. 

A thousand wings whispered across the autumn sky
in undulating murmurations of velvety simplicity.
None collided with the other but danced a ballet 
in perfect synchronicity across heaven.

The tinted hues of sunset;
royal purple and brilliant orange painted
against a dark blueing background.

Even the cricket at my foot that stopped its chirping
and, propped up against my shoe, 
seemed to look up in amazement.

A pair of local chipmunks scurried about in the chilled air
foraging for nuts and berries to store for winter -
oblivious to the magic in the sky.

In one step I had travelled 
from the reality of a chaotic and stressful day 
into a calm, quiet and peaceful evening.

sunday verses #4 (boo edition)

3 Haiku for Halloween

Halloween is here
Holy weaning light to fright
in a dark’ning time

Great pumpkin glows bright
Horror visage narrow'd eyes
Jack-o-lantern laughs

Little humans haunt
Costumed terrors are alight
Offer tricks or treats

sunday verses #3

 UNTITLED  4/24/2021

We are living in the time of parables and revelations
choosing sides
retributions
morality plays
we are “everyman” 
we are the evil that haunts our reality
passport economy 
buy and sell 
only if you carry 
the number of the beast 
innocuous as an inoculation 
tremors and terrors
of the soul 
as those who are weak from fear
strike out and seek control 
of the courageous
their souls listing off the coast of truth
drowning in their desperate 
thrashing and gnashing of teeth
marching and clawing
up the mountain of victims
they create
toward heavens inverted hell
fear of a zombie apocalypse
the walking dead 
if we look at the soul
it’s already here.

We consume media
we consume ourselves
we consume everything
humanity’s legacy on earth will be our consumption
we’ve lost too much to turn back now
in the past our consumption was tempered
tempered by 
“out of stock”
“special order” 
“import only” 
cash shortage
but that has changed
online everything is available
all the time
any time
for a price
on credit
with our very own pay pal
we forgot the payback
we forgot the shark will come 
hunting for what is owed
the environment
culture
social
religion
politics
science
all will come hunting
and haunting
enslaving
for what they are owed.

sunday verses

Toilet/Potty Poem (10/2021)

Sitting on the toilet in
Solemn contemplation
Staring at the shag rug
Covering the Autumn-chilled tile floor

Faces and shapes emerge
Beasts and people
Both fantastic and frightening
Revealing themselves
Emerging in the trampled fibers
Of bare footed traffic
Before I roll them up
To erase their existence
In the reality of life's washing machine
Like shaking an etch a sketch
Re-setting the tabula rasa of imagination

Tower of Babel

TOWER OF BABEL (19.8.21)

you turn on the TV
blah blah blah
you turn on the internet
blah blah blah
you turn on your cell phone
blah blah blah
our tower of babel moment

everyone talking 
blah blah blah
people listen only to what they want
blah blah blah
preaching to the choir
blah blah blah
our tower of babel moment

we live in a versus world
us vs. them
black vs. white
police vs. everyone
republican vs. democrat
vaccinated vs. unvaccinated
Christian vs. Muslim
enemy vs enemy
against the other
our tower of babel moment

when we speak the same language
we speak different languages
we’ll go our separate ways
enlarge the distance between
our pride shamed
our arrogance wounded
our tower of babel moment

otherwise, we can do anything 
together

----------------------------------------------------------

What if this passage is not an "origin story" on the evolution of language but instead an allegory on human arrogance and it's consequences? 
Genesis 11:1-9
Now the whole world had one language and a common speech....
They said to each other, “Come, let’s make bricks and bake them thoroughly.” They used brick instead of stone, and tar for mortar. Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves; otherwise we will be scattered over the face of the whole earth.”
But the Lord came down to see the city and the tower the people were building. The Lord said, “If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other.”
So the Lord scattered them from there over all the earth, and they stopped building the city.  That is why it was called Babel—because there the Lord confused the language of the whole world. From there the Lord scattered them over the face of the whole earth.

CHAFF IN THE WIND

I remember when Saturday 

Felt like Sunday

And I was dreading Monday

Feeling like I’m strung out on junk

(Which I never tried) 

I was strung out on life

(Which I couldn’t escape)

And it wasn’t pretty

I hated my life 

The world I lived in

Staked to the ground

Face up in some tribal ritual

Eye lids propped open

Waiting for the sun to burn me blind

I just wanted to die

But couldn’t

Feeling rejected 

Outcast, judged and ridiculed

Was it done to me? 

Or did I do it to myself?

In the back of my mind

In the shadows of 

What I remember myself to be

I felt there was another side

I just had to get there

But the road was dark

There was no light to light my way

Shadows loomed large and mean

In my withdrawal

Happy is an illusion

And I wanted to get lost in that illusion

But knowing the magicians secrets

Is it possible to ever enjoy the magic again?

Are these fancy words for a poem,

A memoir or just letters jumbled with meaning

meant to get lost and scattered like

so much chaff in the wind

… the times…

MAN OUT OF PLACE (4/2021)
man out of place

I find myself in a strange situation.   
I am dead yet my body does not know it. 
Looking at the world about me I no longer recognize….
What should be familiar is strange and unknowable.
There was a time when I would have relished
the strangeness and foreignness of this lifes situation….
I actually find it unnerving.
It seems that any foundation or rootedness 
that would have grounded me during such times
has been swept away…
so completely and with a sense of finality 
that even when I go to familiar places or spaces,
I do not recognize them.  I see familiar faces and hear familiar voices 
but they only seem to be echoes of a past long gone. 
I may as well be a foreigner in a strange land.
Nothing matters as I am no longer connected… 
I am truly a man 
out of place
in space and time…
not knowing how it happened
or how to change it.
Should it be changed? 
I suppose time will tell.
What will the future hold? 
What will I look like
in the end? 
What will the world look like
in the end?
Our humanity will be changed,
but will it be for the better
in the end? 
Will we look back as through a glass darkly
and say “Who was that?”
In the end.
My life has become abstracted beyond recognition…
I put one foot in front of the other….

how should we then live in these troubled times?

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann, 1927

something fishy

I once saw a fish

washed upon the shore.

I stared down as it lay 

on its sandy grave

taking its last breath

then stepped away

as the seagulls came

tearing away at the carcass.

 

And I thought.

This is the best we can hope for – 

not to be remembered – 

but to provide for whatever comes after us. 

Knowing, like the fish,

when to live

and when to die.

 

The older I get

the less optimistic I feel.

Fantasy is for escape,

reality is for living;

however unpleasant it may be.

absence of field

If you’re familiar with photography you are most likely familiar with depth of field.   But I want to explore absence of field and I think all of my photography does that in some way.   I’ve written a little bit about a related viewpoint previously when I discussed my fascination with what goes on outside the frame of the photo.   But absence of field is yet a variation of sorts of that notion.   What is absent in my photographs?  It really is quite obvious.   I recently came across a poem by the great poet Mark Strand that describes this absence of field perfectly.   

Keeping Things Whole
 
In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.
 
When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in   
to fill the spaces
where my body’s been.
 
We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.
 
 
 
So therefore; when I take a photo it is complete or whole because I am not there.  I, the photographer,  am always moving .  To keep things whole for my photos.  You may see me in someone else’s photos but not my own.  I am the absence where air rushes in.   Another way to look at it.   When you stick your hand in a river, lake or any body of water – as you withdraw, does the water hold the shape of your hand?  No.  It rushes back to fill the void.   The water cannot tolerate the void.  It must be complete.   Such is a photo.  It captures the completeness(i.e. wholeness) of all things – even if those things (like today’s photo) may seem to be missing something.  It is still complete as it captures a singular moment of the subjects evolutionary life cycle.    When I am dead even though I may appear to not move; I will continue to move as the decay process takes over until I return to the earth as dust.   And when I am no longer remembered, when that dust is then used to bring nutrition or life to something else after I am gone I will still be moving.  Absence is just as important as presence.  This also helps explain why a photo will never be of the future – it will always be the past because the once the photograph has been taken the photographer moves on even though the subject in the photo continues to change.  You may say, “what about time-lapse” photography.   That still only projects the past.  By time you see it the subject has completely moved on.   It is all part of maintaining a wholeness in the universe.  Absence is the grace that presence cannot afford.  We do not need presence to be happy.   We can find happiness in absence.  To loop back to the poem we can find happiness in the rush of air to fill the void as I move away until something else comes and fills that space.  Probably the closest thing in photography that captures the sense of moving to keep things whole is Polaroid or instamatic photography.   While you are watching the photo develop the blank space slowly becomes filled with the image.  From absence to wholeness.  But unfortunately that’s where it ends (or does it?). 
 
Musically Samuel Barber’s Adagio For Strings captures these notion especially at the climax where there is a great silence/pause which punctuates the sound.
or you may like the Choral version by one of my favorite vocal groups.

el camino

*el camino translated to english means “The Way” – more than a vehicle.

EL CAMINO

Out in the wilds

in my rusted 1969 El Camino

pulled off the side of a desert road

the only light

a cigarettes glowing ember end

the stars my only friends

“Buenos Noches From A Lonely Room”

on the radio

quiet like

listening outside to inside conversations

yet here I am alone

staring off into the night at

a glow

far off on the horizon

the site of an alien invasion?

just another boring city

that never sleeps

I decide to NOT “go toward the light”

comfortable under the shadowy blanket of night

resting in my inspired darkness

sitting in the bed of

El Camino

Cocoon

mobius faith · COCOON

I am in a personal, creative, social,
emotional and professional cocoon.
Once a caterpillar,
I thought I understood life.
Now it feels like time has passed me by
and I no longer understand or
recognize the world I live in:
irrelevant, voiceless, useless.
I can’t move.
Wrapped in blankets on a bed.
Cocooned in my cotton chrysalis.
I peer out through fuzzy threads
and see people moving about,
attempts at normalcy.
But, I have no desire.
I am weak and sickly;
left to the shadows of a previous life.
I have neither the will nor the strength.
I’m left to wonder if I will emerge from this cocoon
to a new life,
a new type of existence
or if I will die in my encasement.
Will I be able to break free and
enjoy new life?
A new existence?
Better Health?
Feeling “at one” with the world around me?
Or will this shell become my abattoir
slaughtered in silence.
Perhaps I will emerge an avatar
able to engage, teach, foster and encourage the souls who remain?
“If you live long enough and hang in long enough
the world will learn to love you again” (*)
So, now is the time of waiting
and hanging in there
waiting for the metamorphosis to complete
as I wonder….

Will I be a butterfly or a moth?
Will I dine on the sweet nectar of milkweed?
Will I flit and flutter toward the light of my undoing?
In the end the question is not “how?” but “when?”
Even butterflies can die in their cocoon.

* quote by Toya Willcox in the liner notes to her new boxed set.

Escaping One's Own Shadow

ESCAPING ONE’S OWN SHADOW

poem to the world

We Did It Our Way (6/14/2020)

For all those around the world
who have have been sickened and harmed by
America’s bigotry
America’s duplicity
America’s meddling
into your lives, your governments, your countries
this legacy of self-interest

“I don’t think there are any Russians
and there ain’t no Yanks
Just corporate criminals
Playin’ with tanks”
“The child of hatred comes of age…
The sad neglect will surely take its toll…
Violent times”(*)

For all those around the world
who have prayed
prayed in earnest and
prayed continually
“A plague upon America.”
“Death to America!”
or cried out “when will it end?”

God has heard you and
God has answered

I can tell you
with more coronavirus cases
and deaths
than any other country in the world
with social unrest
caused by a pandemic, racism, inconsistent values,
police brutality and failed leadership

I can tell you
that you may feel confident
you did not have to lift a finger
you did not need to attack us
God has heard your prayers
and like the tower of Babel
Our “language” has become confused

like the walls of Jericho
all you had to do was blow your horns
we have come crashing down
the modern Rome is falling
you did not have to lift a finger
you did not need to attack us
let the ruin be a lesson

We did it our way
We did it to ourselves

* 2nd stanza quotes taken from The Call’s eerily prescient album MODERN ROMANS (1983)

“I can’t breathe” (a poem)

“I CAN’T BREATHE!”

The long long night in America
violence, hatred & anger
200+ years overdue if you ask me
and not in the least surprising

“I can’t breathe,” “I can’t breathe!”
The fires of protest burn brightly
and the media focuses on the event
not the root that caused this burning bush to grow

Another black man dies
in police custody
“I can’t breathe,” “I can’t breathe!”
each word like bullets fired from a gun
verbal shots ring out
while 3 cops pin a black man down
one brutally kneeling on the neck
and a 4th stands by complicit

It isn’t enough to suppress the black and brown man
his black and blue soul suffering
under the weight of white oppression
and the poison goes to the very top Mr. President

racism given a badge
There is no honor here
It’s not courage that carries a gun and uses force
only a white coward dresses in blue
and cynically claims
“I’m only doing my job”
when they crush the life
out of a black man already subdued
“I can’t breathe,” “ I can’t breathe”

If we are surprised by the violence
we should be ashamed
If we are shocked by the brutality
we shouldn’t be

If we do nothing
We are complicit
“Please, please, please,
I can’t breathe, please man.”

And another black mans soul
ascends to heaven to early.
“Please, please, please,
I can’t breathe, please man.”

I wrote the above poem in reaction to the brutal killing of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis police and the nationwide protests and violence that followed 5/31/2020. 

4 essential tracks for this time in America:
The Last Poets – HANDS OFF!


Gil Scott-Heron – HOME IS WHERE THE HATRED IS

The Last Poets – RAIN OF TERROR

War – SLIPPIN’ INTO DARKNESS

Bonus Track – From the film SLAM starring contemporary poet Saul Williams.

 

we are the people

Well Iggy Pop has done it again.   Like Bowie and Dylan he just keeps surprising us and gets better and better.   His newest album (2019), FREE, is a real breakaway from previous efforts – jazz textures abound.   His primary collaborators are soundscape guitarist Noveller and jazz trumpeter Leron Thomas.   Pop only co-wrote 3 of the 10 tracks.    As he wrote in the liner notes he “…wanted an album in which other artists speak for me, but I lend my voice.”  And what a voice it is.   In addition to the three tracks he co-wrote he sings/speaks the words of Leron Thomas, Lou Reed and Dylan Thomas.

I find myself repeatedly listening to this album.  I find it deeply moving. Here are a quartet of tracks.

Starting with the title track FREE which Pop co-wrote with Leron Thomas

Next is the poem WE ARE THE PEOPLE, written by Lou Reed and was published post-humously.

We are the people without land
We are the people without tradition
We are the people
Who do not know how to die peacefully and at ease
We are the thoughts of sorrows
Endings of tomorrows
We are the wisps of rulers
And the jokers of kings
We are the people without right
We are the people who have known only lies and desperation
We are the people without a country, a voice, or a mirror
We are the crystal gaze
Returned through the density and immensity of a berserk nation
We are the victims of the untold manifesto of the lack of depth
Of full and heavy emptiness
We are the people without sorrow
Who have moved beyond national pride and indifference
To a parody of instinct
We are the people who are desperate
Beyond emotion because it defies thought
We are the people
Who conceive our destruction and carry it out lawfully
We are the insects of someone else’s thought
A casualty of daytime, nighttime, space, and God
Without race, nationality, or religion
We are the people, and the people, the people

And now for something a little lighter – JAMES BOND, written by Leron Thomas. I nominate Iggy to do the theme song for the next James Bond film. What do you think?

And to round out this post here is a classic poem by Dylan Thomas,
DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT.

And do not go gentle into that good night
Old age should burn and rave at close of day
Rage, rage against the dying of the light
Though wise men at their end know dark is right
Because their words had forked no lightning
They do not go gentle into that good night
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay
Rage, rage against the dying of the light
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight
And learn too late, they grieved it on its way
Do not go gentle into that good night
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay
Rage, rage against the dying of the light
And you, my father, there on the sad height
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray
Do not go gentle into that good night
Rage, rage against the dying of the light

3 Good Friday haiku

Winter’s dying gasp
Before Easter’s rising dawn
Good Friday’s snowfall

this morning out my window 2

This morning out my window #2

Snow falls on Friday
A Savior rises Sunday
Spring surprises all

this morning out my window 1

This morning out my window #1

April morning snow
Quiet soft burial melting
to resurrection

 

It may be Friday – but Sunday’s on the way!

4 haiku on death by suicide

Living, one’s own terms
no judgement for suicide
Dying, ones own terms

********************

Sweet Sweet Suicide
The last exit from life’s stage
Stigmata of choice

********************

On a high blue bridge
She jumps, flying toward the earth
Releasing all cares

********************

It takes great courage
To take the reigns of death
There’s no mortal sin

yet 3 more haiku on death & dying

No more dreams to live
Heart stops, brain ceases, life ends
A cold grave welcomes

*********************

Freedom on the wind
A bird will fall from the sky
Its heart beats no more

*********************

And when the end comes
Can there be beauty in death?
Flowers in the snow

3 more haiku on death & dying

Ending transitions
Matter to anti-matter
Life turns into death

********************

Flesh will decay fast
When life is present no more
Bones will decay slow

********************

Circumstance unknown
I know neither time nor place
When death comes for me

3 haiku on death & dying

When death comes to call
Alone I will fade and fail
remembered no more

************************

When the body dies
Software will be deleted
And hardware destroyed

************************

Autumn to Winter
All life has been drained away
Dry leaves in the fire

even more haiku on lightning, rain & thunder

Weathers town crier
Thunders crashing box of rocks
announces the rain.

*******

The pink noise of rain
With distant lightnings white noise
A cool breeze for sleep

*******

Music in the night
This ambient symphony
A chorus of rain

3 more haiku on lightning & storms

Restless dreams at night
Toss’d ’bout on flashes of light
Ships on stormy seas

*******

A thunder not heard
The storm can’t hide its approach
Bright lightning flashes

*******

The quiet of night
Static on the radio
The rain comes lightly

coastal haiku

gulls flight in the night
coastal lights guiding their slumber
humans haunting sounds

————————————–

seagulls on the prowl
dive-bombing at lunch in hand
McDonald’s french fries

From The Coast

knowing when to make someone’s day

knowing when to
“make someone’s day”
means not being selfish
like knowing when to give
when not to give
being sensitive about what you say
when you say it
and when not to say it
knowing when to do nothing

knowing that to
“make someones day”
means knowing when
to leave them alone
alone to their own devices
alone in their misery
no matter how much it
bothers you to do so
there are just some things
people need to work out for themselves

Knowing that if
you don’t leave them alone
you may make their misery worse
knowing that if you help
help them figure things out
they are being forced
to deal with their problems
in a way that may be unnatural to them

knowing that “being there”
may be all they need
your presence is enough
your gift is your silence
your gift is not the answer given
but the question shared
your gift is the answer
discovered together in their time

knowing when to
“make someone’s day”
means that sometimes
the less you do
is the most you can do
the best thing to do
and that’s okay

knowing that sometimes
we have this wisdom
sometimes we don’t
and it all depends on
how “invested” we are
in any given situation

imagination and practical reality

Imagination And Practical Reality
(6/11/19)

Where are the words
that have escaped me?
All I find is an empty wire cage
I hear the fluttering of wings
in the darkened corners of the room
Yet I see nothing clearly
vague inferences and impressions
opaqued shapes
undulating slowly
in a heavy pre-dawn fog
Yet I am happy

And once the sun rises
and the fog is burned away
all will be made clear
Without mystery
Without inspiration
Forgotten worlds
Like the man who looks in a mirror(*)
and when he turns away
immediately forgets what he looks like
Left to wander
groping in the clarity of
the harsh light of day
Lost in the multi-sensory overload
Writing without understanding
the words on the page
And I am sad once more.

 

*  James 1:24

What Happened To My Country? (this messy slam poem)

What Happened To My Country?

(5/2019)
What happened to my country?
I feel like an alien in my own land
where everything old is new again
old arguments
new context
the earth is flat
we never landed on the moon
the return of nazism returns and
white supremacy, nationalism, dictators
abortion rights
suppression of the press
the end of free speech
power of the gun
more walls fewer bridges
tiki torches over electricity
more bombast less wisdom
voter suppression
denial, deny everything
forcing yes by saying no
lie, lie, lie like there’s no tomorrow
the holocaust never happened
domestic terrorism rules the day
a normality of school shootings
armed teachers
corporate kings keep half of America
addicted to opioids
never once asking if they should
they knew they could earn a ton of dough
from the drug trade
so they would
act now apologize later
Is this the death of America or just democracy?
the all-you-can-eat
brimstone and treacle buffet

Every moral notion I’ve EVER had
is being crushed by
the people who taught me
everyone has their religion but no one believes
religion is politicized, weaponized and bastardized
everyone is talking
no one is listening
technology moves forward
while humanity falls
faster backward

Where are the lovers the haters have killed?
we pray for ourselves by cursing others
we pray for our kind and curse differences
as if only we matter
sameness perpetuates division
diversity has become a word
to bring attention to our differences
not the things that unite us

Everyone wants to be Goliath
the bigger the better
determined to change history
but they forgot David won the war
believing they can turn back the clock
moving forward in the delusion of progress
taking a life synonymous with birth
the rights of the living aborted for
the rights of the unborn, the nonhuman,
the corporate, the government, the powerful
the dog serves its master
the worm serves the fish
and the pigs shit everywhere

America, where is your
o, beautiful for spacious skies?
when did the battle hymn of the republic change?
Now we only trample through the vineyard
where we grow our own grapes of wrath
and prepare to loose the lightning
of our own swift sword
beating the drum to war
unnecessarily we forgot the
beauty of the lilies and
Christ irrelevant born
forget about his glory transfiguration
it’s just you and me

(sung) Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
glory, glory hallelujah
only the lie is marching on

America America
God shed his
onward christian soldiers
white privilege freedom thieves
now crown your good
white brotherhood
from sea to shining sea
and Jesus doesn’t love the children
all the children of the world
red and yellow, black and white
white are precious in his sight
that’s not the way the fucking songs go!

Hopefully artificial intelligence
will be ‘cause actual intelligence
seems to be the victim of extinction
let there be peace on earth
and let it begin with
someone else

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
God will not intervene!
even God wouldn’t deny the freewill
that humanity denies each other
God knows no borders
yet the rich and powerful use God
to force crisis borne of political expediency,
build walls and wage wars

Protect the money
grow the money
protect the money
grow the money
say it with me
protect the money, grow the money!

there is no happy ending here
man may have been made in the image of God but
God is still an extra-terrestrial alien creator
killed by its own creation
just as humanity will be killed by technology
the thing it creates
there is no rapture
the second coming came and went
it’s hard to imagine heaven
when all we create is hell
God damned humanity and
only humanity can save itself

I’m sorry if you were hoping for
words of encouragement
words of hope
words of inspiration
this vessel has been emptied and
washed clean
ready for a new beginning
let it begin
let the day begin!

On second thought
I think I’ll leave it empty for awhile

The Players Song

Players Song

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

the end has come
lights gone down
crowds are gone
strides across
this sawdust clown

baggy pants
dirty shirt
worn out shoes
treading through
another broken town

hotel room
lonely bulb
peeling paint
dingy and dank
inhabited mold drown

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

the naked man
in the bathtub
smokes a cigar
wearing the painted
face of a clown

milky surface
soapy water
shimmers like diamonds
one deep breath
he’s sliding down
what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

warm wet meditation
wraps up the man
mind quiet, at peace
distant thunder smoking
cigar lifeline

rising up
paint-stained flesh
reveals the man
washed renewed naked
suffering reality frown

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

I don’t remember when I wrote this – possibly 2013-2014. But I only recorded it recently.