Sunday, December 19, 2021

First Chapter

 
Each life is a story,
or a portion of one,
the text of which hides
a sub-text which is the real truth,
if only we could read it;
translated and decoded,
translated again and re-coded,
cut-up and reassembled,
never the same twice,
but always just as true,
generation after generation,
one long umbilical cord
connecting us each back
to the now-lost first chapter.

Sunday, December 12, 2021

Our Great Mistake

Our great mistake was allowing  
the Word to become flesh,
leading inevitably to this culture which,
having cut itself off from its own roots
so long ago it no longer remembers,
has been dying ever since.
 
Better would have been to allow
the Word to remain word,
shadow and mystery.
 
Instead, we, the lost descendants of an ancient world,
lie scattered like seeds on stony ground,
still flying outward from the primal fist
which released us without a care so long ago.
 
Our history is an aggregate of false endings,
millions of final moments and last words.... nothing more.
 
Give us this day our daily illusion, our daily guilt.

Sunday, December 5, 2021

No Victory No Defeat

 
There can be no victory
There is no defeat
There is no competition
No goals to meet
 
Just a search for Truth
Through joys and sorrows
And as long as I am breathing
There’s a chance for a tomorrow

Sunday, November 28, 2021

Choir

 
If you’re gonna wanna sing in this particular choir
You’re gonna have to learn to gargle with fire
You’re gonna have to stand in the brightest white light
But it won’t really matter if you get the words right
It’s all about the passion, here, the pain in your voice
It’s all about showing that you don’t have a choice
If you sing because you have to, if the song is your life
Then you’re in the right place, wrong or right

Sunday, November 21, 2021

Spotlight

When I go out, when I go in,
I feel the eyes upon me,
I feel the Spotlight on me,
But I know that’s not right,
No one sees the invisible man,
And we’re all invisible, man,
And no one sees.
 
If my face could show my thoughts
If my feelings were words to be read
If people were like pages in a book
If I had a transparent head
 
You cannot look directly upon
The face of your god, imagined or real
You cannot look directly into
The soul of your neighbor to know what he feels
You cannot see the wind,
No, you cannot see the wind
But you can see where it has been,
Yes, you can see where it has been
 
If my face could show my thoughts
If my feelings were words to be read
If people were like pages in a book
If I had a transparent head
Then you’d know, then I guess you’d see
Then you might know me

Sunday, October 24, 2021

By Your Fire (from the Archives - 2018)

The man said to me, "Boy, when you grow up, what is it you want to be?"                           
I said, "Sir, I haven't quite decided yet, if it's Jack Kerouac or Ray Davies."                           
It’s so hard to make it through this cold and crooked world                                        
The same thing is true for every boy, and for every girl                                                 
 
But I know this one thing for sure                                                                                       
I want to warm myself by her fire forevermore                                                                
 
How can I turn the world upside down when I can't even get out of bed?               
How can I set the night on fire when it's always raining here in my head?                             
It’s so hard to make it through this cold and crooked world                                        
Whether you’re a skinny little boy or a curly headed little girl                                     
 
But I know this one thing for sure                                                                                       
I want to warm myself by her fire forevermore                                                                
 
Your arms are where I belong                                                                                               
Yours is my only song                                                                                                              
And when I’m lost and alone                                                                                                 
You’re the only one who can always call me home                                                         
 
And I know this one thing for sure                                                                                       
I want to warm myself by your fire forevermore                                                              
I want to walk in your kitchen door
Sit right down there on the floor                                                                                    
And warm myself at your fire forevermore                                                                        
 
 
 
 
 

Saturday, September 11, 2021

Eternity is Jealous of the Present

Eternity must be jealous of the present, 
its immediacy, its relevance.
Yes, eternity must be jealous 
when a lover smiles and sighs, 
when she removes the clip 
which had held back her hair, 
freeing it and allowing me 
to slip my hand between the strands 
as if it were a bolt of priceless silk 
which she offers to me 
as a queen might offer 
alms to a beggar.
My fingers luxuriate gratefully. 
This gratitude and luxury 
exist only in the present, 
and so, eternity is jealous.

Eternity is full of 
inconsequentialities 
and coincidences.
Full of happenstances 
and miscellaneous occurrences.
But only the present contains life.
Only the present contains love.
Only the present contains potentiality and value.
Only the present contains her sweet kiss.
And so, eternity is jealous.