...the chubby penny
...box of yesterday
jukebox some said it was elvis forever peter, paul and mary those years all past too quickly the statlers wrote of monuments mac showed us a little ghetto life jimmy smashed electric guitars kris and willie inhaled their weed a song could go on forever where have all the flowers gone? i stood in the shadow of concrete towers i watched the sunrise in central park so many people laughed and smiled yet with fondness i remember those new york nights
kenny gave us the music man
and dolly the colored coat
time in a bottle wasn’t meant for jim
it was just a song he wrote
as the king of rock n roll
but who could know his majesty
was spinning out of control
sang dylan’s blowin’ in th’ wind
as the beatles did it all for us
with a little help from their friends
and are now forever gone
even neil, the solitary man
returned to brooklyn roads, his home
in washington d c
mccartney climbed on jonathan’s wings
and crashed into the apple tree
james took us up on the roof
the oak ridge boys went into a saloon
to down some hundred proof
while janice sang bobby mcgee
rick’s plane tumbled from the sky
he said no garden party for me
said it make their throats feel good
but jimmy should never light my fire
in mr. roger’s neighborhood
about the singers i’ve never known
and one by one they’ve said goodbye
and turned to go back home
that’s the question pete seeger asked
i guess with old songs everyone
to that great juke box of the past
new york memories
i watched the glare of neon lights
from the place they say is new york city
i walked her streets on lonesome nights
and watched old men pushing carts of pity
i wept amidst the lettered street signs
and prayed beneath the subway stairs
stood for food in winding breadlines
wondering why god refused my prayers
and smoked broken cigarettes cast aside
and joints that gave me super powers
refueling dreams that had already died
joggers and dogs all looked the same
but the sun painted over the black of dark
and soothed my aching childhood pain
so many strangers seemed to understand
time had come to travel the miles
it would take to leave this new york land
when young women worked the streets for a hit
as they stood beneath those neon lights
hopelessly trapped in hell’s deepest pit
i felt the waves on the atlantic shore
then travelled to the city by the bay
can't see the new york lights no more
and i suppose that's just how it'll stay
i never felt new york was unkind
i guess i never felt new york at all
but all the memories i could find
i left scribbled on a subway wall
she
she walked along the silken shore
crocheting thoughts and even more
morning could not unravel her
men’s lustful eyes freely traveled her
she cleaned the windows of my soul
laying together between satin sheets
she took my life and rhymed for me
those lines which had always dangled free
and in her hands i could be
an emperor of my destiny
hers was a life so freely lived
she had so much that she could give
a lady of the pauper’s dreams
more suited for the feast of kings
she played the game like none before
...gave her all and still had more
she walked amidst the forest light
where her creator marveled at the sight
surely pleased at what he had done
...defining beauty for everyone
while colors wept in a crimson sky
it was that time, early dawn
when sailors cast their anchors down
and the grace of morning gained control
as i watched her smile freely unfold
and purity revealed her milk-white skin
she enjoyed a life so freely lived
and had so much that she could give
a lady of the pauper’s dreams
more suited for the feast of kings
her knight bowed slowly to the floor
while the pawn crept out the waiting door
she played the game like none before
never caring about the final score
‘til at last she laid beneath the forest trees
and felt the gentle flowing breeze
her golden hair, a babbling brook
with soothing sounds at each turn it took
only rainbow-washed colors could compare
she answered to the distant sound
of a shepherd’s harp placed on the ground
and walked behind the towering clouds
waving goodbye to her admiring crowds
when nature brought her to her knees
oh, some crowds you can never please
til at last they laid her body down
and pulled away her tarnished crown
pushed a smile where there was a frown
and placed her with the famous clowns
and it rained
Silent Scream she was an urbanite socialite she graced me with her words of french she rarely saw the morning hour, she knew where she was going her daddy was a very rich man she knew the works of whitman... so one day she closed her book of life,
i heard the silent scream
and felt the piercing of my heart
…where i used to live
now someone else plays in my head
games i wish not to play
with no board and no rules
i will die alone
when the time is right
with wicked fingers
pointing accusation
before
squeezing my final breath
the voices in my head hurt
in ways i never knew possible
as my tired body longs for sleep
while my racing mind craves peace
i stand
pleading guilty
as the hand of my magistate
shreds my heart
the silent scream is louder now
and the voice i hear
frightens me
now that i recognize the crying
i feel the tears
the silent scream is my own
lifeless fruit in her bowl of sin
who had done nobody wrong,
a debutante who had no want
and she took me right along.
and taught me with her time
how to love between th’ satin sheets
and the love she took was mine.
and borrowed life from yesterday.
her time just seemed to be her own,
yet her minutes slipped away.
yet she wondered where she had been;
apple trees grew on her barren path
like lifeless fruit in her bowl of sin
but he didn’t own her mind,
and the ivy towers behind her college hours
had made themselves unkind.
and quoted emerson and thoreau,
but their pages left her lonely;
and that’s an awful place to go.
seems she’d erased too many words.
til the appleseeds were devoured...
by the ravens, poe’s darkest birds.
the umbrella
it rained on tuesday
washed the blues from my jeans
and made me thirsty for another taste of heaven
hungry for breakfast
i settled for the smell of yesterday
and hoped for the fresh aroma of tomorrow
my only conversation
was born in a grumbling belly
filled with bubbles of emptiness and pain
i discovered that hope collapses and folds
like a cheaply made umbrella
annexed by harshly changing winds
and i wondered if i would die
on a tuesday blessed with rain
and if the umbrella would hold up
one last time
* rabboni there was no passion burning within his empty soul, no whispered secret from the wind that once cradled warm thoughts before laying them safely on a page, throbbing for another word. he chose to stand alone for a moment, if not more, gathering blueberries and stained fingers while waiting to hear his own heart. some folks said go this way, others that, until all inspiration spilled over like fresh blood flowing onto a city street, crimson in the black of night. he wondered if passion had trickled out and returned to some hidden place to quench the parched heart of another. some folks still sipped from the tarnished silver challis while he grew thirsty waiting for words to follow after one another. his were sometimes tears of joy shed to fashion a meandering trail leading to a swollen cistern so children might never thirst again. ___________________ *The word Rabboni is used only two times in It is the higher form of the word Rabbi.
the New Testament (Mark 10:51 & John 20:16)
With all that is happening in the world I thought a look at a couple of passages from the Bible were in order.
"And you will hear of wars and rumors of wars. See that you are not troubled; for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. And there will be famines, pestilences, and earthquakes in various places. All these are the beginning of sorrows." (Matthew 24:6-8 NKJV)
"In the measure that she glorified herself and lived luxuriously, in the same measure give her torment and sorrow; for she says in her heart, ‘I sit as queen, and am no widow, and will not see sorrow.’
Therefore her plagues will come in one day—death and mourning and famine. And she will be utterly burned with fire, for strong is the Lord God who judges her." (Revelation 18:7,8 NKJV)
And from that, i wrote this...not pretty and not uplifting but please read:
everybody’s dying
everybody’s dying, everybody’s dying
in this world we call insane
and nobody knows it,
‘cause it’s part of the game
and there is no resurrection
once we fall down from that cross
and there is no institution
to redeem our final loss
and there is no cotton bandage
that can stop the bleeding wound
and no time for looking backwards
‘cause we are already doomed
everybody’s dying, everybody’s dying
and we’re smiling all the while
we just never realize it
we just line up single file
and the explosion of that bullet
bursts across the night time sky
and the mushroom cloud filters down
and the laughing people cry
and there is no restoration
once our cities tumble down
and there is no consolation
for no prizes can be found
and there is no rhyme or reason
that can color over dead
and no time for looking backwards
to the words that jesus said
everybody’s dying, everybody’s dying
and some have sold their souls
and everybody knows it
after sifting through the coals
and there is no hope for another time
the stainless sword just fell
there is no care for your fellow man
as he stumbles into hell
and there is no constitution
that politicians sign
for the sign’s already written
and sealed since the start of time
and everybody’s dying, everybody’s dying
though none can answer why
and there are no super patriots
who storm across the sky
and there is no firm foundation
to hold your footing down
and there is no more destitution
past the hunger sound
and there is no vegetation
to keep a man alive
he should have eaten the bread of life
if he wanted to survive
and no time for looking backwards
to the way it could have been
that time has passed and satan’s tongue
has pierced the hearts of men
everybody’s dying, everybody’s dying
god, take this pain from me
this sight of annihilation
this staining of the sea
everybody’s dying, everybody’s dying
the anguish is too real
even a blind man who has darkened eyes
no longer can conceal
that window of his inner soul
which holds the picture clear
everybody’s dying, everybody’s dying
my friend…
the time is here