Wednesday, 28 February 2007

in the hood

Misery has no upside
and the company's not good
what won't come out in the wash
is gonna come out in the hood

yellow tape is like a torch
which leads all eyes to stare
what exactly happened here
who what when and where

we'd like to think it's not the norm
while cops patrole the streets
we hope and pray somehow, someday
the crime rate will decrese

So where's your little brother
well today's his day in court
Kelvin likes to ride his bike
but peddles drugs for sport

Never knew his father
and hates his mother's men
the gang he's in
are more like kin
and faithful to the end

Kelvin was elected
to shoot a brotha dead
whose crime it seems
was wearing jeans
not blue, but crimson red.

The boy, he could not do it
I ain't nobody's fool
He'd sell the drugs
he told the thugs
but "rather shoot some pool".

Granny's on the front porch
settin' out to sweep
The bullet whizzes past her
and on a pathway to dissater
cuts through wood and plaster
to find the child in his sleep.

Kelvin's little brother
could not tell the time
he bearly knew his numbers
but could rap a nursery rhyme

They buried little Winston
and Gran's not doin' good
his swingset is abandoned
and it's quiet in the hood.

No one really plans
a lowly life of crime
to drop out of society
and soon be facin' time

So go ahead and spraypaint walls
decorate abandoned halls
breakdance, shoot your basketballs
skateboard parks and crowded malls

Encourage all their hopes and dreams
lead them out of evil schemes
cuz all is not what it all seems
when there's quiet in the hood.


It's hard to think that we'd forget
but harder still is writing songs about it
We never felt so bad and yet
the therapist is bent on getting us to pout about it

for all eternity
left out of maternity
wearing funny clothes
feelin bad out my nose and

It's getting to the place
my figure's where i do declare
it's not that I'm blown out
but I'll agree It's getting there

Just my gut reaction
to the world, a huge distraction
every day is passing by
while all I do is wonder why you

No one else could really care
about the heartache in my hair
how one word could scar a life
silent strife, a cross to bear
knowing it would come around
I forgave but it's still there

The only thing that mattered
the only thing we knew
was that our hearts were shattered
and still our bodies grew

and we were grown up,
the bag is filled to bursting
fed up
hungry and still thirsting

let down , turn around
see the mess we're in
carrying all this bitterness
was something of a sin

what to do, just walk away
or just kick it to the curb
sort through stinkin garbage
jagged memories to disturb

A typical reaction
to pain is to forget
to push it down and numb it out
something I regret

somedays I can laugh about it
somedays wanna to keel
God above, if you are Love
soften up this heart of steel

I've had enough of carrying
this burden on my back
jumping off the boxcar
throwin down the sack
If it's true that you are God
and in your there's no lack
wash the dirt away
and get this monkey off my back

and if I no longer serve you
but I'm getting in the way
stumbling around again
just end my life today

sick of all the drama
tired of being shy
holding back, the pressure builds
The dam bursts and I cry...
and you say

Let me
Let me tell you what I think about you
Tell Me
Tell me what you think about Me
Loved you
Loved you from the start of all
had you set apart
for our relation
wanted you to need me
but Im not the needy type
trying to be heard above the
noise and all the hype
now you're finally listening
Just know that you are mine.
This is what were made for and it is not a pick-up line
I've got your back, you're covered now, forgiven and set free
Nothing separates you from my Love,
and this was meant to be...
tears are good for you,

Monday, 19 February 2007


Eyes are not opened
when hearts are not hearing
the message of Love
which straigtens our steering.

Leaving behind
all the things that are leering
touching our painful emotions and searing
the heart that is drawn from the crowd's
endless cheering
to a place which is quiet
and sweetly endearing.

And from that place rises
the heart of conviction
up from the dead
choosing fact over fiction.

Eyes soon are opened
and Truth comes unfurled
waving above
all the lies of the world.

The Word is the standard
you say just a story
many have tried to silence
His Glory.

The Way and the Truth And the Light
He has come
His peace he has left
and my heart he has won.

To overcome evil
to search out his sheep
to win back his bride
though tarnished and cheap.

Snatched from the fire
she struggles to gain
One ounce of freedom
from all of the pain

Wanting an easy way out
she crumbles
gives into the conflict
and downward she tumbles

The Good Guy is patient
he knocks
and he waits
He stands at the door and He contemplates

He did what He could
but would never insist
To force her to choose Him
is not on Love's list.

One of these days
she'll forsake dead religion
and open the door
She's nobodies pidgeon.

Washed clean and made whole
transformed by His Love
precious new soul
His beautiful dove.

Friday, 16 February 2007

One Nation Under

This is the world
and this is the steeple
and these plans were made
without asking the people

And now from our pews
seems something has died
or maybe ignited
I don’t know, you decide.

Our Freedoms were challanged
the fire grew hotter
A peace loving nation
come hell or high water

Pride, it is written
comes before a great fall
so keep your hearts humble
and make peace with all.

But evil was present since before there was light
to kill and destroy is it's only delight
the heart is rebellious
and easily sways
drawn from the path
and corrupt in it's ways.

So whatever the forefathers
meant for this nation
whatever intentions or vain affirmation
without a strong faith and fear of the Lord
we'll bind up our wounds but fall on the Sword.

A paranoid nation
with anger and fear
not knowing our enemy
was lurking so near.

With 9/11 burned in our souls
we will forever be shocky
and our leader like most has his personal goals
his game plan was really quite cocky.

History will tell you
The world is full of fools
and who ever has the biggest bombs
are the ones who make the rules.

And what then of our leadership
who's called our men to fight
who prays to Jesus, God above
the Way, the Truth, the Light?

Does the God we claim we're under
the Holy One who I adore
Did He support this from the start
or does he HATE all war?

The word says to pray for our leaders
‘cause who really knows the plan
but God who gives the wisdom
to fix the messes made by man.

This is the world
and this is the steeple
and these plans were made
without asking the people

the heart is rebellious
and easily sways
drawn from the path
and corrupt in it's ways

evil was present
before there was light
to kill and destroy
is it's only delight

A peace loving nation
come hell or high water
Til freedoms were challenged
the fire grew hotter

And now from our pews
seemed like something had died
or maybe ignited
don’t know, you decide

Pride, like a river
before a great fall
flows with it's thunder
to crash down the wall

But evil was present
before there was light
to kill and destroy
is it's only delight

the heart is rebellious
and easily sways
drawn from the path
and corrupt in it's ways

So whatever the forefathers
meant for this nation
whatever intentions
or vain affirmation

without a strong faith
and fear of the Lord
we'll bind up our wounds
but then fall on the Sword

A paranoid nation
with anger and fear
not knowing our enemy
lurking so near

With nine one one burned in our souls
we were shocky
Our leader like most
at his game was quite cocky

History will tell you
The world's full of fools
and those with the A-bombs
don't keep their own rules

Does the God that we're claiming
to trust on our money
have a plan for the end
can it ever be funny?

The word says to pray
that God's got a plan
will He fix all the messes
or mess up the man?

painters daydream

Waves of blue
wash over you
while fields of white
obscure my sight

this roller glides smoothly
creating a seal
over some colors
I'd rather reveal

years of blunders
and crazy hues
I made my choices
paid my dues

But now's the time
for the Painter within
to spackle my soul
and sand out the sin.

To put all my memories
gently away
into the storage
for some other day

time's is not healing
what we lack in feeling
cracks in the ceiling
silently peeling

Silky tans will lure us
to a quiet tourqouise sea
but there’s something in the distance
perhaps a tsunami

I hate to leave you standing there
but can not stand the thought
of drowning in this stinkin' sea
of lonliness I've wrought

So I climb up to a higher place
alone,to breathe fresh air
love flows freely from God's grace
and what a fool I’ve been to care

Sun bathes fields of clover
yellow daisies have all bloomed
waving free they call to me
still with you I am still consumed

This baggage claim
is full of blame
I like to think it's you
if you'd just say you’re sorry
not your bag, you say, it's true.

Cutting in I've failed you
rolled over your pride
running after lofty things
I've often left your side

Thinking of another time
i stare up at the sky
not a cloud to scrape the blue
from the warm ground where I lie

something makes me smile
when I first laid eyes on you
marveling at your chest hair
I longed to grab a few.

suddenly convicted
the truth beneath the lie
becoming clearer with each breath
a wretched shrew am I!

And yes you are half jackass
which end is up to you
we know one half is stable
and the other end... who knew?

I climb down from my prudish perch
not meant to be alone
better to be near you
if it's only on the phone

Look down on the place
where I last saw you standing
no longer there, no longer care
so I turn back to my sanding.

Monday, 12 February 2007

The Quest for Warmth

Captured there in orange
beneath the old street light
a cloud of breath exhaled
hangs heavy in the night.

Waiting on the 409
has never been this bleak
the fierce wind nips your ear lobe
and ice cold stings your cheek.

I watch you turn your collar up
your back against the bite
one hand on that coffee cup
the other out of sight.

Each morning
getting colder
the forecast is for snow
in fleece and wool you face the frost
and how I'll never know

I see you’re green
my blue faced friend
the green before the fall
you've never been about the perks
it's conscience above all.

The last thing on your mind just now
would be to get a Lynx
traffic is lame
road rage insane
And air pollution stinks.

Don't EVEN get you started
on the SUV
spews out nitrous oxide
and guzzles Texas tea.

Public parking,
another rare find
for what you get,
they rob you blind.

and what they miss
the vandal takes
leave you with migranes
the car alarm makes.

better for all
we all take the train
or one car per family
'stead of one car per brain.

Watching you stand there
with ice crystals forming
I despise all your stubborness
you NEED global warming!

I know you're no girly
my Ever-Ready mate
but my Duracel is waiting
and the 409 is late

I get out of my car
and approach you from the rear
my work is cut out for me
na the ice lymric is near

poetic license pending
I call for a herione's ending
like a frozen filet, without word or delay
I can lift you without even bending.


Once inside and thawing
you start in about the gas
I turn down the heat,
but turn up the seat
that's warming up your a**.

I'm all for the planet, I tell ya
and doing whatever is best
but for mornings like these
with your jewels in deep freeze
come with and we'll heat up the QUEST.

Wednesday, 7 February 2007

Hairy Go Round - G Clair

Gingerale, coke, lemon and lime
Don’t have a watch, can't tell you the time
Iced Coffee with milk, no sugar for me
Don’t care for sweetners, prefer caffeine-free

Used to drink Yoohoo,but can't seem to hold it
Once owned a Ford Falcon but somebody stole it
My father is cool he trims up the hedges
Mom's kind of smooth but rough 'round the edges

Once found a seashell put it to my ear
all that I heard was a-guzzlin' beer
guzzling beer not what I expected
had me a Mexican but soon he defected

Looked for him everywhere thought he was nappin'
But he'd hit the pavement, Hirotchees were slappin
Somebody told me he's back in Borrero
fryin' up churros in a fancy sombrero

Dined on raw fish with a Guido beguiled
'Till he told me he'd die before having my child
Excuse me, I told him, I think you are mistaken
I'd rather have triplets by sexy Clay Aiken
Been burned before, but I'm still kind of shocky
Swallowed my pride and swore off the Saki

Low and behold a dude who says "Schmatah"
unorthodox fella who can't stomach matzah
Head full of curls nice Hebrew diction
believes in his heart aliens are nonfiction
He ain’t into me prefers to be single
Made sure my milk and his meat didn't mingle

Stopped into Quick-chek to get me a bite
met up with 'ol Manny who put up a fight
mountain of misery~terrble liar
asked for a bike and he gave me a tire

Flattened but patched my heart isn't aching
I think it's a sign the thing was worth breaking
The back roads to Red Bank are bumpy and narrow
hard on the bones but good for the marrow

I looked at the clouds, shook out the lining
can't see the forest for all of my pining
Ironic that shells echo the sea
the old man he batters em mercilessly

Mets beat the Phillies, so what can I say?
wanted for nothing, nothing got in my way
Got up to stretch, fell through the bleacher
and into the arms of a snake oil preacher

Tinctures and ointments and warming love salve
can't erase heartache and memories I have
Heard it before, how time is medicinal
But for healing the heart the price is additional

Beat for beat and measure for measure
grapes of gall and fermenting displeasure
tasted enough to know this can't be real
while mashing my heart in the search engine wheel

Not takin the road to that carneval ground
one more lonely ride on the hairy go round
As for my heros and the asses I've pained
nothing is lost and everything gained

Monday, 5 February 2007

The Brand New Budget Inspiration Blues

Got the brand new budget inspiration blues
I'm gonna spend my money
any old way I choose
come the first
I'll pay the rent
Lord knows that money's heaven sent
and anyway you add it up
you just can't lose
when you're payin with
the brand new budget
Inspiration Blues...

Got into an accident last week
Bust my craw
wired my jaw
now I can hardly speak
I don't care about the wreck
I'm waitin on that insurance check
but that Chevy I plowed into ain't no hit and run
cuz I'll be payin out the yin yan till it's 1991.



Not entirely crazy
though a little bit insane
outside in the daylight
my mind runs as clear as rain.

I Took the test they gave me
to find a compatible fellow
Roses are red, Violets are blue
but my heart is screaming yellow.

So I bottled up my beeswax
showered off the gloom
nice fresh air and sunshine
pouring through this room.

Started talking to a stranger
not the average Joe
waiting 'til I meet him
the only way to know.

Yarrow is a color
I heard the Asian mutter
hold the petals 'neath your chin
to see if you like butter.

An over-ripe banana
brown speckled, getting soft
waitin' for his perfect match
the others he has scoffed.

Not easily misguided
He won't buy into hype
Perfect match confided
He's not the risky type.

Yellow is not fade proof
it washes out in time
hang your heart out to dry
wind blows it off the line.

Whatever is the point here
how she did you wrong
your history's no matter to me
always the same old song

No longer scared, just waiting
Been around the block
tasted and been tested
faked out my internal clock.

Today I am feeling ready
tomorrow I'm bleeding blue
Orange you glad I'm yellow
a bright and crazy hue?

I don't need the internet
or men to entertain
just read my lips
and bring some chips
I'll meet you at the train.

Man with the Hammer

your hammer's good
it's headed south
keeps your secret
without a mouth.

the ground is hard
the ground is cold
tells many stories
as I am told.

where you have walked
how much you weigh
cover your clues
because one day.

the smallest fragment
the tiniest hair
well get you life
to this i'll swear.

you make your bed
you dig your grave
and to your guilt
you'll be a slave

Think this out
while you sit in the slammer
He carried the cross
but you bore the hammer.

He took the nails
you pounded in
Forgive them Father
They know not thier sin.

Three days later
The ground will attest
The man was seen walking
along with the rest.

A carpenter by trade
he knew about hammers
He knows about you
his lost little lamb-er.

He stands at the door
Speaks truth and won't stammer
Be the best friend
to the man with the hammer.

"He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening [of the prison] to them that are bound; to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." (Isa.61:1,2)

Jesus once said to the Pharisees (who demanded that Jesus silence His followers), "I tell you if they (His followers) keep quiet, even the stones would cry out!" (Luke 19:40) In a culture that seems to stifle and discourage any type of Christian faith expression, we as living stones cry out, seeking to give Jesus the glory that is due Him! - Rod Minaker

Unmedicated Gal

Words serve no purpose
you've chosen your fate

A woman who seethes
biochemial hate

How could a man marvel at beauty
When she admits her last meal was "Lookin4cutie?"

Why in the world would he choose to commit
to a girl who is spiteful and treats him like chit?

The oversized ego that boasts of her charms
arouses suspicion and sets off alarms.

Try as you may
there's no way to please her

The war is internal
and nothing will ease her.

You give her some flowers, she says the wrong color
Conversation? You've never been duller

You take her out dancing, buy her some clothes,
she spends all your money and steps on your toes.

Walks on your ego, takes you for granted
Dimisses your dreams, but still you're enchanted.

How is it this angel can kiss you so well
yet one week a month will send you to Hell?

Take it as a warning when a woman picks a fight
flips out at your comments, speeds up at the light.

Anything to get you punching at the wheel
yellow moon is maddness, and PMS is real.

Give her a boot, show her the door
tell her to soften that miserable core.

Drop her on the corner
make her walk alone

Stay clear of her email
don’t pick up the phone

Next time read the paper
or find a nice long book

Spare yourself the misery
and let her off the hook.

The Heart-broken Fireside Blues

What can you say
out there in the fog
in want of the old flame

you burnt your last log.

The memories are hot
the pain you remember
beneath all the ashes
the last glowing ember.

Don't bother to fan it
there's no fuel to burn
let it go out
save the ash for the urn.

Turn your attention
to the wood
that needs chopping
do something worthwhile

like sweeping and mopping

Sweep out the soot
and mop up your tears
clean out the attic
let go of your fears

Put on the blues
then something upbeat
get on your warm clothes
walk out to the street

Follow it down
to the steaming creek bed
the mineral water
is something it's said

Melts away saddness
and heats up your head
without all the smoke
without all the dread.

Don't need a fire
the water is good
cleans away everything
and better than wood.

The Word is water
still living and true
all that you need
all that you do

Lie back in the warmth
pulled free from the mire
be free and be healed
and forever on fire.

Sunday, 4 February 2007

Hairy Kind of Love

The Epic Poem.

This awfully long one was written during the peak of PMS. It reflects the usual feelings of insecurity, self loathing, paranoia, irritability, irrational thinking, mood swings, and a tendancy to turn on the loved one who is mostly an innocent bystander. Mostly, it's just a silly poem about love.

(We Got A) Hairy Kind of Love

Love is hairy
stubbly stuff
shave all week
it's never enough
whether I shave it
or slather on Nair
whack it or hack it
will always be there.

Keeps coming back
as much as you crop it
waxing and chemicals
can’t even stop it

try to ignore it
the nubs comes in thick
even my eyebrows
a uni-brow chick.

Come Saturday
I don’t really care
let it grow outta
my underwear

Let it alone
that unruly mop
looks like I got me
a nice bumper crop

This is my way
ain’t gonna change
my love and my hair
are looking deranged

Sitting there pondering
love and love's looks
flippin’ through Cosmo
and metrosex books

Beauty is bare
in my favorite rag
Nary a hairy
or haggard old nag

Eyebrows are separate
and carefully arched

Lips are injected
and never seem parched.

Legs are butt smooth,
and so are are the pits
Love is not given
to hairy chick fits.

Speaking of nares,
mine is exempt
The nose and the ears
are extremely well kempt.

Sunday mornin’ rolls around
but his razor can’t be found....

I call out his name
and wait for an answer
his ditty bag’s gone
could It be that dancer?

The one that he watches
the one he admires
could she be the one
igniting his fires?

I’ve seen her there waiting
the picture of grace
smooth, fair and agile
not a hair out of place

I sit on the edge of the tub
shocked and numb
look in the mirror
then look at my thumb

I eye up the woman
whose not spent a dime
on personal pleasures
as though it’s a crime

My overgrown garden
could not see the light
missed out on the sweetness
bare skin’s delight

Bought into myth
and every girls hope
that she’d still be worth
something without any soap.

Rummaged around
in a drawer feeling sick
through my tears I lay hold of
my old Lady Bic

Slipped into the shower
convinced he despised me
lathered and cried
none of this has surprised me

He'd seemed a bit distant
the more I persisted
the less satisfied

I should have considered
my Love is not blind
his eyes are like sponges
his vision will find

The best of the beauties
the cream of the crop
as sweet sugar blossoms
parade past his shop

I have an epiphany
there in the suds
Time's never wasted
on pruning the buds

Better to nip 'em
if you're feelin manly
can't be mistaken for
Charles or Stanley.

Lord knows the time
I've put in at Curves
kept myself healthy
alot of good that it serves

So who really cares
if he's after that minx
just between us
we know how she stinks

Let him go sister
try rising above
cuz if that's all he's after
it ain't really love.

Making my plans
to rip up his picture
wipe out his memory
no longer a fixture

I can't say that I needed
nor much that I cared
for the man or his
dirty laundry I've aired

When into my steamy retreat
the voice of the man I was sure
had deserted.

I silence my heart
and put down the Bic
ease back the curtain
and see my St. Nick

The hairy faced heathen
battered and worn
face kind of prickly
needs to be shorn.

"What is THIS?"
he demands
and holds out his hand
"Why, a worn out old mach 3, the triple edge brand!"

"I just CHANGED this blade and the thing's dull and rusted!!"
"Heck if I know"
but I know I’ve been busted.

Step out of the shower
bare skin drippin wet
"At this rate I think I’ll buy stock in Gillette."

I hold out my bic
and smile at old Bones
"Would you like me to light your cigar, Mr. Jones?"

Leave him to his business
which won’t include the shave
Love is stubbly,
love is soft
and hairy to the grave.