Tuesday, 25 May 2010
At the end of the day it could go either way much like at the end of this song~
Well I write for a while, then I sink to a smile when I think how you draw me along.
Well we came with a story, a beautiful song, unheard verses locked deep in our soul~
and the way to discover what's locked in this lover, find the key that will fit
And sometimes we're inspired, other times we're just tired, and it's sad when we don't realize~
it's because of ourselves talent sits on the shelves in the darkness for the rest of our lives.
It was trouble and strife, anger cut like a knife and it tore at the door of my mind (and my pride)~
it was then your sweet voice, through the keyhole, rejoiced and released the deadbolt from inside.
So now I can tell you what's on my mind, I am corny and wierd, and unkind, sometimes...
still I say what I feel 'cause I know what is real, and it sure beats what I left behind.
Thought the answer was finding the right key~the thing that would then make you whole~
but the Master unlocking life's sweet mysteries is the LOVE sown in each other's soul.
Sunday, 16 May 2010
His final passage, all it took to get this girl the read the book
he'd asked her twice before he died, she said she'd started it, but lied
His point was made, she'd do her best, fulfill this day, his last request
for now, what's sure, she's hanging on, to every word because he's gone
and once aboard, she's hauled to sea, no pleasure cruise, but misery
she stands her watch from noon till nine, he drinks his scotch, she sips her wine
He holds the course, and surely keeps the surging seas from where she sleeps
and once her grieving eases some, she's finds his voice a comfort from
the memories, she reads his words through tear filled eyes, her ears have heard
and now she enters into his, her mind alive with images
of life beyond this mortal soul, of turquoise seas and sandy shoal
she mulls each chapter of this book and smells the sea and baits the hook
and climbs the mast up to top, unties the sails and let's them drop
and pulled into uncertainty, the ship sails through calamity
but never does she doubt the man who said he could, she knows he can
and reading on, she comes to see the trip was really meant to be
for all her days she's been alone, sometimes by choice though seeds were sown
but landing here on troubled water, no one found his only daughter
and left to find her own way home, to settle down or wait or roam
she's learned to simply stay afloat, while others love and others dote
on children born to entertain, she'd prayed for babies but got rain
the wind kicks up, her heart still bleeding, blames herself for never heeding
youthful dreams for fear of failing, SUDDENLY she's out here sailing!
now rising from the galley door, the smell of fresh baked bread and more-
sea-salt blends with airborne yeast, and draws her down to taste the feast
she swings the rope from deck to ladder, there's her Dad, a little fatter
the captain calls all hands on deck, a storm is brewing, still they check
to see what's cooking, time to eat, for work requires mortal meat
and in the middle of the story, here's her father's pride and glory
pictures taped upon the wall, his two best girls, and that's not all
a golden key on nail in teak
she'll watch him knead, while floorboards creak
she stands beside and learns his ways, for he was gone most of her days
out to sea to make a living, her mother said he's always giving
now she listens as he praying, for wife and child, what's he saying?
bless them both while I'm away, lead them safely through the day
while fishermen have dropped their nets, he speaks of losses and regrets
that one small daughter missed her dad, he never knew just what he had
and once again the ride resumes, across a sea of oil plumes
and men are hardly scarce she finds, her father's story now unwinds
he fought this battle with his crew, while stirring up a pot of stew
his Guif, the sea, was once so clear, he loved to fish, and held it dear
the tales within this mariner's log, could pull her head out of the fog
he's taught her how to sail the sea, to feel the wind which sets her free
from thinking it's about the past, to taking hold of things which last
and using what's inside of you to break the cycle, cook the stew
to forge ahead and let it go, you must read on, or never know
now seeing that his book will end, she slows her eyes and takes her pen
and writes a note on every page, attempting to now quell the rage
for how could he who claimed to love, allow her pain to rise above
the peaceful calm she's found within his final passage, 'tis a sin
and still, one day he shouts "LAND HO!', the end approaches, heart in tow
she will not greet the writer's end nor leave this place of make-pretend
She will not listen anymore, but drops her anchor just off shore
and won't accept the last surprise, but stills his voice and shuts his eyes
she fights against the frothy foam while bailing water from her own
she cannot bear to lose him twice, his loving presence, sound advice
on written pages, this the book, about his life at sea, the cook
for days to come the text will sit with marker near the end of it
for this her only comfort now, to know he's waiting still, somehow
and days will come and days will turn to weeks, then months, a year to burn
the only way for this old lass to ever move beyond the pass
to go and read the final pages; put to rest her rock of ages
do the only thing she can- to free herself from limbo-land
She finds the book upon her shelf, and opening it for herself
She'll read the words the man had written, years before when he was smitten
on that page, and by his hand, a blessing that he'd always planned
to read her on her wedding day, the daughter he would give away
"Be sure to love the one you're with, and this my girl, your wedding gift"
and tucked within the jacket there, a little clipping of her hair
a poem she'd done when she was nine and two more things within the spine
a lock box number and that key, this man, he loved a mystery...
Today she rides upon the seas, and sails around the Florida Keys,
she drops her anchor, swims to shore, the waves don't scare her anymore
and just last year she met a guy, a salty sailor with one eye
he'd seen the movie, lived the book, and thus the blessing, and the hook.
Friday, 14 May 2010
FIVE MINUTE OATS -- G Clair
Pacing the floor in the middle of this
watching the kettle 'til steam starts to hiss
A strange fascination we have with the bliss
with nothing behind us but one heated kiss.
Underneath an umbrella I stand in the rain
and wait on the platform for the 6 o'clock train
well you never quite hold me and I rarely complain
and soaked with frustration I walk home again.
We bid for each other in some Chinese auction
and you got the booby, one mixed up concoction
we checked out our prizes at a much closer range
What were we thinking and can we exchange?
And without any memories to dry up the tears
we long for the fire and comfort of years
but it's just one more lesson, a good one we learned.
the slow-cooker is better and we're less often burned.
And then as I ponder you come in the door
I smile at your tired eyes and looking for more
I stir up the pot as you take off your Totes
and you ask me to make you some 5-Minute Oats.
"I made em already", to warm up your cockles
the seat of your heart and without the debacles
I sensed that the cold rain would stir the desire
so I whipped up a batch and rekindled the fire.
And inspite of my rambling it seems rather clear
that 5-Minute oats can mean something more dear
it's that person who waits in your kitchen above
stirring 5 Minute oats into passionate love.
She reaches out for love but it eludes her
He spits her out but not before he chews her
she blames herself for his mistake,
for giving him a belly ache
no wonder why she's feeling like a loser.
and then one day she noticed she was slipping
the mirror never lies, she wasn't tripping
within her empty eyes she saw
the wear and tear had worn her raw
and tears behind the veil of shame were dripping.
Standing in the dim light of the morning
In want of something more of an adorning
she lifted up her golden hair,
and smiled though no one else was there
and realized she'd never heard the warning.
No one ever spoke of inner beauty
though the boys around her said she was a cutie
Daddy always wore the pants
but never asked his girl to dance
she learned her moves from guys who loved her bootie.
Light music broke though silence of dead winter
Warm rays of sunshine thawed the ice within her
the local farmer loved his Lord
would never take, but could afford
and in his eyes, a pearl, and not a sinner.
She stands with him before the mirror now
her heart refreshed, she's seeing more somehow
the rounded apple of his eye
and no one else should wonder why
he bought the milk... because he loved the cow!
Minding our own
makin' it rhyme
it's all coming out
theres dust in the drought
but the rain comes in time~
nothing held back
I've got nothing to say
let it roll off my shoulders
puts less your mind
and it's better that way~
And isn't it nice
you like hot tea 'on ice'
thank you, yes
I can follow directions,
so please,don't think twice~
And isn't it great
we can stay out real late
of sparkling stars,
while your're lickin' that plate~
I said nothing at all
it's that horse in the stall
my foot fell asleep
but I'm not gonna weep
I can drag it or crawl~
Now the wind's in the trees
and your hand's on my knees
and the warmth of
your breath on my neck
puts my tired mind at ease~
Distracted, it's true
idle chatter won't do
Better nothing to say
put the music on play
and be quiet with you.
Thursday, 13 May 2010
I wish I had a dollar for every single time
I failed to give a holler and stood silent like a mime
the bloke's a tale smaller and this sentance fits the crime
since he claims it's not a lemon 'cause I bought another lime
They claim it's not a lemon, since she bought the limey's line
So I wrote myself a letter and I mailed to the prime
hey minister, his sin is to be spinning tales of grime
I'm writing from New Jersey, can I send y'all a rhyme?
It costs about a dollar but I'll settle for a dime.
It costs a dollar but she'll settle for a dime.
The minister was out to lunch as tower bells do chime
I quelled my English manners and proceeded then to climb
the wall which separates us, the buyers from the slime
the liars from the working class, the parsley from the thyme.
She's off the hook, just like the crook, though not beyond sublime.
Screaming " Wish I had a dollar for every single time
I failed to give a holler and stood silent like a mime
the bloke's a tale smaller and this sentance fits the crime
since they claim it's not a lemon 'cause I bought another lime"!
She claims she's not lemon, but she's looking like a lime!
Thursday, 6 May 2010
she tends to rouse the men up like a fencer with a sword
cause handling meat and cheeses is her calling, from the Lord
a quarter pound of turkey and a half a pound of cheese
asking which and how he liked it, he says "Any way you please"
a halfa pound of swiss gets more, if you don't care what the price is
less the holes, you'd get the same, with holes you get more slices
so if you want to spend it down, and don't care 'bout the holes
and flavor's what you're looking for, try rye with seeds, not rolls
I came in for some loose meat, (and by now he's getting flustered)
then BUY the meat, and get the ROLLS, but don't forget the mustard
The crowd grew still, all eyes were on his face, now glowing red
he came in for some loose meat, not the fixings OR the bread
A quarter pound of turkey and a half a pound of cheese
I'll take the Swiss, cut thinly Miss, in silence if you please!
Was one fine pearl, this deli girl who cut his cheese that day
for each thin slice, her sacrifice, to shut her mouth and pray
And once the meat was cut and bound in plastic with a price
she took the time to slam it down and yelled, "next up, be nice!"
She handles meats and cheeses like a fencer with a sword
but lives to serve her customer, a calling from the Lord
Wednesday, 5 May 2010
not a lot to think about
i seem so light and easy
but suddenly the clouds roll in
and feeling kind of queasy
i run and close the windows of my soul
but just can't win
the winds are blowing up now
and the thunder's rolling in
and suddenly it's raining down
you'll have to wait it through
you should have seen the signs before
just like you always do
it beats upon this old tin roof
we're stuck inside together
you've slept right though this scene before
and understand my weather
pretty soon the rains let up
and skies begin to clear
the sunset's red and orange haze
means better days are near
we all have nasty weather
inner conflicts you can't see
and when those storms come, brotha
you can vetta d'voist of me.
Sunday, 2 May 2010
Not to be the only one who feels
that it's important
to keep your shirt on
to keep your patience
of this I'm certain
in quiet waters
Catching wind of something that you said
I'm quite relieved that
you are the type who
can see the end from
a rough beginning
and in forgiving
you make it clear
that there's no
Letting go of all that is behind
we can be freed from
old silly notions
of a future
and of all
Reaching out for something that is good
and latching onto
discarded socks you
are thinking 'clearly
they don't deserve you
but still you serve.so
it will continue
and you will
breathe, breath·ing. –verb (used without object) 1. to take air, oxygen, etc., into the lungs and expel it; inhale and exhale; respire. 2. to pause, as for breath; take rest: How about giving me a chance to breathe? 4. to move gently or blow lightly, as air. 5. to live; exist: Hardly a man breathes who has not known great sorrow.
She turned her mind toward thoughts of God and pondered on this thing called 'Love'
and how it felt was rather odd to have the thing you're dreaming of.
and not to say that much had changed from all of what she'd felt before
but just her movement towards the thing that gently rapped upon her door
and opening, the air was clean and drifted into darkened mess
and brought with it the scent of spring and promise that would lead to rest
the angry pride from early age and pain she'd buried in the deep
once heated into molten rage had turned to steel in her sleep
and stirring up the settled dust the softest breeze swirled room to room,
the filtered light fell on the crust, the window sill, the broken loom
the cool fresh air, she breathed it in, which fanned the flames of hope again
but woke the sleeping child withi, that bitter pill, the urge to sin
where were you when love was lost and dreams were killed and hope was tossed
and where were you when I was nine and lost my way and one last time
I need to know where Love was when the waves rushed in, and buildings fell
when kids were shot and parents grieved and everything had gone to hell.
She could have slammed the door right then, He would have left, that's just His way,
she had to have it out with Him, and screamed and cried, but let Him stay.
I just don't get your kind of sense which lets a man do what he will
to take away the innocence, to mock your name, and steal and kill.
And then the air stirred in her face, and quiet came to sandy shoal
he spoke of Love's abiding grace and water flowed into her soul
For what is better for your strife, and what is Love to pull the reign
to force a man to choose the life or nudge a man to use his brain?
And what is love to steal the bride and drag her right outside the gait?
I set you free, you run inside I chose you then, you chose to wait.
I hear you well, I understand, the breath you breathe, this rotting tomb
I died for you and every man, to give to you back your breathing room.