Spirit Fog

Spirit Fog rolled by my back window last night.

I moved from the North.

I asked Spirit Fog to reveal itself.

Spirit Fog would not.

I said, “But, you must reveal yourself”!

Spirit Fog calmly considered this.

Spirit Fog said, “I don’t have to do anything”.

It seemed Spirit Fog grew stronger, as it receded

into the moonlit, silver tipped, landscape.

Spirit Voice moved to the North.

Spirit Voice said, “Spirit Fog needed that resolve”.

 

Just Another Day

Just Another Day.

Sometimes it feels that way.

What can I say?

.

Goodbye is so yesterday.

.

Before you go,

I want you to know.

Baby, I can’t live without you.

.

If you go away,

I will pray, you never

have to live through.

.

Just Another Day.

Sometimes it turns out that way.

What can I say?

.

Goodbye is so yesterday.

.

BRIDGE

.

Just another day.

Please chase those rainclouds  away.

What can I say?

.

Goodbye is so yesterday.

.

While your still here.

Let me whisper in your sweet ear.

Baby, I love you.

.

Don’t go away.

I’m begging you to stay.

Stay, please stay!

.

Just Another Day.

We could work it out someway

If I had my say.

.

Goodbye would never

happen today.

MONKEY

Monkey see monkey do.

You dress like me, but I ain’t you.

The people laugh behind your back

I buy my clothes off the rack.

.

Don’t let the man jerk you around

He’s the only one getting rich in this old town.

.

Oh momma, unlock my cage.

I got to express my rage.

.

Monkey see monkey do.

You dress like me, I look like you.

Everywhere I go, you wear my clothes.

I’m getting a me, overdose.

.

Don’t let the man jerk you around.

He’s the only one getting rich in this old town.

.

Monkey!

Good Old Daze

Here I sit with pen

(oops) make that keyboard

in hand.

Trying to write

what I scarce understand.

My mind (gosh, make that computer)

A jungle of half formed plans.

I spew (heavens, make that send)

into the land.

Thoughts that have no form

like sand.

Sand?  Cool

We can make a mother board

bored?

You bet!

Give me a cat with a bird to kill.

I’ll cook his hide and pluck a quill.

I’ll bleed for ink and if the sheep are still.

I’ll get a skin to write my will.

Oh for the Good Old Daze.

Dream Girl

I hear you call

You don’t know my name

I wonder how you came

To be

In my dream

I hear you calling

and hey

 Did she ask my name

Ask me how I came

to be

alone with me

Am I crazy

or just a

Free spirit

I don’t do what I’m told

You can put me on the street

Leave me in the cold

I’ll find my way back to my dream

of you

calling

You don’t know my name

I wonder how you came

to be

And hey

Did she ask my name

Ask how I came

to be

alone with me

Am I crazy

or just

Do what I do

I got

No thought for you

All I want to be

Is alone with me

Then she came into my dream

She changed my reality

Now I think outside of me

Where are you

Where are you now

I hear you call

I don’t know your name

I wonder how you came

to be

The Battle

Soldiers are coming.

I can hear they’re drum.

Boots are on the ground.

The Battle has begun.

.

Meanwhile children are sleeping.

They cannot be disturbed.

With news of war’s disaster.

They’ll hear not one word.

.

Outside The Battle is raging.

Bombs falling all around.

People are praying.

Faces to the ground.

.

Meanwhile children are playing.

They can not be disturbed.

With news of war’s disaster.

They’ll hear not one word.

*

Are you still out there,

Cold and alone?

I still miss you.

When are you coming home?

.

Outside The Battle is raging.

Drones are in the sky.

Tanks are rolling.

While the gay parade marches by.

.

Meanwhile children are laughing.

They must not be disturbed.

With news of war’s disaster.

They’ll hear not one word.

*

Are you still out there,

Cold to the bone?

I still miss you.

When are you coming home?

.

Outside The Battle is raging.

World Blue

My whole world is blue.

Ever since I lost you

I don’t know what to do.

You left my World Blue.

.

You never said why.

Never said goodbye.

Just left my heart

here to die.

.

What did I do?

Did you find someone new?

No no no I won’t cry

I’ll hold this blue world inside.

.

You never said why.

Never said goodbye.

Just left my heart

Here to die.

.

But I will never cry

No, you can’t make me cry

What’s this

In my eye?

Sister

Sister, do I hear you,

crying behind that door?

Are you dropping tears into the well

of those who have gone before?

…..

Is that you my Sister?

Your voice is very faint.

Would you crack your door a bit?

Do you need my embrace?

…..

Is that you my Sister?

The voice of Sylvia Plath?

I hear you calling.

I hold your words in my lap.

…..

Is that you my Sister?

Standing strong for your art.

I hold your blood and your tears

in the deep chambers of my heart.

…..

Is that you my Sister?

Dancing in the night.

Harvesting the wind,

the moon, the starlight.

…..

Is that you my Sister?

Getting on the bus.

Sitting right up front,

in righteous defiance?

…..

Is that you my Sister?

In Hungry ringing out a bell.

Calling the woman to war,

when your men fell.

…..

Is that you my Sister?

In the plains, tears on the ground.

Turning into black rocks,

for others to pass around.

…..

Is that you my Sister?

A mushroom blooming in the night.

Sweet, soft, delicate.

Filled with magic might.

…..

Is that you my Sister?

Your voice is very dear.

It will not pass the ears

of your brother standing here.

…..

Is that you my sister?

I love you.

 

 

Lady

Lady

.

Do you see me

in the shadows

of your periphery?

.

Lady

.

Holding every rose

ever thrown

at your feet.

.

Lady

.

Can you see me

weeping silently

in the dark?

.

Lady

.

Could you hold

this fading rose

in your heart?

.

Lady

My Guitar

Do I study the guitar, or does the guitar study me?  I am the active principle, the guitar is the passive principle.

One best be passive when studying. My guitar is tasked to find ways of singing past my fumbling fingers.  It teaches me to forget my gross actions, closely listen to her beautiful voices.  She leads me to her next song.

Who’s greater, my guitar or her ‘master’?  Who among us could sing with a death grip on our throat?  A fist beating our chest?  Fingers poking our tendons?

Who am I to study such a thing?  Can I lead the guitar to where I’ve never been?

Sweet singer, study me well.  Teach me.  Teach me to sing and dance with you.