Burn Ban - A lyric

You gave me a gun
Little bird tucked his wings in to dive
Pull the trigger man
Can’t leave him here to stay alive

Disposable nation pillage and plunder, wreck havoc on
Can’t live without it, gotta have it all
Commercialization on the TV, the world for profit
Trade in your life; give the man your balls

You sold the rights God
Gave man the credit to buy the earth
Call in the debt man
Can’t sell a shithole for half it’s worth

Magnificent nation divide and conquer, give it your all
America the beautiful, America the great
Devastation on the news, nowhere else I’d rather be
Sell your soul; let it pay for your hate

You taught me to win
Don’t plead with those lower than
Start a fire man
Can’t light the world with a burn ban

Total destruction awaiting orders from new management
Corruption eats from the inside, vote for me
Pandemonium on the stage of life, total chaos
Tear me from my addiction, set me free

You ran out of bullets
Give the little bird his liberty and justice
Distill the hate man
There’s free will, no need to be an accomplice

Disposable nation pillage and plunder, wreck havoc on
Can’t live without it, gotta have it all
Commercialization on the TV, the world for profit
Trade in your life; give the man your balls

You sold the rights God
Gave man the credit to buy the earth
Call in the debt man
Can’t sell a shithole for half it’s worth

Insurgent

“Speak Up,” I’m told,

“Perhaps you’ll be heard?”

But no matter my muttering,

no matter my “Excuse me sirs,”

no matter my screams!

No faces swivel in my direction,

with smiles and recognition,

“Yes, I’m here.”

No arms reach out in greeting,

“How do you do, my name is….”



So I don’t speak up,

I don’t!

Not to anyone,

But I nod at the tea party,

at the park,

at the schoolhouse,

at the pub,

at work,

and mutter some nonsense like

“That’s wonderful,

where will you vacation

next summer?”



But do not be confused here

just because I no longer,

“Speak up!”

Like a mosquito I’ve evolved

by feeding off my hosts

Who idly fill my ears with all I need

to know

to test the waters.

Soon fears will begin to itch

thoughts begin to buzz,

and blood begin to boil.

And I will be there;

they will hear me screaming,

“Revolution!”

A gathering place

White snow spirit;

sky blue, leafy green, black dirt,

placid lake, rosy sunset spirits,

swill my soul in your eyes,

and reveal to me your wisps of vivacious energies

vigorously gathering deftly

to sparkle, shimmer, animate,

bubbly, boisterously, bravely fascinate

every yarn, filament, grain

of my being.



Wise old withered Maple, Fir, and Cedar tree spirits

sweeping windy, slapping grassy, singing sun spirits

slide into my meandering thoughts,

twirl downward into my rot

throbbing, aching, yearning

for your calm, collective, peace giving

biting, blazing, breathing, thunder booming bravely

into and out of my soul

like the bloom of spring

blossoms from winter

and the quivering marsh, lumbering lake, shivering snow spirits

gather among all the others

for a celebration of everyday life

that ceaselessly rides forward

clutching, grasping, clenching

the futures theater

tirelessly acting

the scenes to come...

A flower in the meadow

By the way my feet touch the Earth,

it is me upon it,

not the sky on my shoulders.

By the way the wind brushes up beside me,

it is a kindred spirit,

always running, never slowing.

By the way a million stars

look down on me

it is 'I' who am alone.

By the way my heart knocks,

time is not second by second;

It is sadness and thrill,

fear and lonliness that measure.

By the way the sun locked her eyes with mine,

we were two broken pieces

made whole.

By the way each new dawn may rise,

it isn't merely the sun that lights the Earth

but all of us who brighten it.

Ink to paper - short poem

A story is a matter of words built upon words;
they can speak to you in thoughts,
tell of a life lived and died,
tell of a million tales of a million adventures;
they are the cherry blossoms raining from the clouds,
the nectar from every flower,
the salty tastes of every sad tear that ever fell;
they are a life imagined.

Subterfuge

Somewhere on the edge I adjust fear,
Sadness does not echo,
Happy does not pierce,
Fluid is my only vice,
I must move these feet and hands,
I must rise upward.

There is no action without reaction,
There are only sensory strings swarming my mind,
The smell of broken rocks acrid whiff,
The quenched thirst from a mountains liquid vase,
The sound of nothing human born - only nature,
The masquerade of wind and snow embodied together
in form and function.

Pleasure is writ in success and failure,
Determination is born of will and grit,
And in mountains there are men without disguise,
Life does not pretend to be,
There are no deceptions here,
We each walk in devotion,
Leave with a mind cleared like a meadow is of snow,
From it Spring will come
and a garden will rise from the cold
and for a short time you will flourish.

There is always balance!

Everything is bound to that,
Life and death,
Risk and reward,
I give credence to it all
and to my fears the most,
They are my boundaries shuddering and shivering,
twisting in the guile of desperation,
From them I learn to endure;
There are no smoke and mirrors
where man dangles from heights
and clings to cleft to escape gravity!

A wilderness may be my subterfuge,
My vial of emotional substance
that tempts me,
And motion forward may unbalance,
Yet, not everyone learns,
Not everything is fair,
but some learn enough
to balance in a world tipping.

Concerto

Even if I sit here
I will not hear your music
even if you play it forever
and I am here forever
- you can play it
but I will only hear the wind
or the birds chirping
I will only hear the rain bursting
on these meadows and their flowers
I will only hear a day’s independent tones
not the symphony of Nature
nor the beauty of her music