A Fairytale of New York- The Pogues

The Waltons- The Homecoming Part 1

James Taylor- Frozen Man

I could sing of your love forever

Happy Birthday to Me! ( Marah- Sooner or Later)

Happy Birthday Jesus

when I was a child, heard many a thing
about God in His Heaven and angels who sing
of streets paved of gold, and the one at the gate
whose keeping a record of me on a slate

the things that I do and the things that I say
It scared me to think that I'd sin anyway
and I wanted to know how the God of great love
could measure our worth by the things we think of

not knowing Him then, well I listened to men
who knew less about God than they did their own end
so I prayed to the One, asking right from my heart
tell me true, are you there, have you been from the start?

can you please help me sort through the myth and the magic
the lies of religion, the hopeless and tragic?
can you meet me right here, just where I am
in my darkness and failures, are you really I AM?

and what of the others who labor for nothing
who have not and hunger for turkey and stuffing?
on the streets, in the cold, stumbling drunk in the alleys
red-handed, white lies, and deep blues in dark valleys?

at our weakest, and numb from the heartache of losing
the ones that we love, left behind with a bruising
will I find you in throne rooms in the back of my mind
like some Wizard of Oz that I'm seeking to find?

A whisper, an answer, a thought I just had
was it me, was it You, could it be, that I'm mad?
But wait, there again, as I stifle my pride,
"Open the door and invite me inside".

"Ask Me, I'll tell you, I'll lead you along
NOT ONE WORD WAS WRITTEN, disproven or wrong"

"And as for the poor and the weak and your past
Your sins are forgiven, the first shall be last."

"I've chosen the weak things to confound the wise
I turn it around for the greatest surprise"

The ONE that I love, the dearest of all
the babe in the manger with the horse in the stall
He grew to a man and we know him as Jesus
fulfilled the great plan and wow, how he sees us

He bore all our burdens and gave us the ring,
we are his bride and HE is our King
and the more that I trust him, the more I debate
I need to ask questions regarding our fate

Is God all around us, is heaven for real
does He care for our flesh and the way that we feel?
is one day like a thousand, as thousands are lost
in the floods and the fires and the wars and the frost?

I'll wait for the answers and try to be still
like the child in the manger and the cow on the hill
I will study to find myself well in Your sight
while we sit by the fire and chat through the night

and when Christmas has finally dawned on our days
and we celebrate giving in so many ways
I must keep in mind how you wiped clean the slate
for once and for all you reopened that gate

and I must not forget though I'm often at fault
that you want me to shine, to be light, to be salt
and always remember that You are the reason
I celebrate Christmas, no matter the season.

Happy Birthday Jesus!

Before the Office Christmas Meal

For every miserable office worker at Christmastime. Cheer up!


When you feel taken for granted
thinkin' they just don't care
wanting to move away again,
but again, you don't know where~
burned-out, tired of trying
to be all the bossman wants
to be everything to everyone,
reading in between the fonts~

We who sit beside you
in the office and the stall
who sing along, the same old song,
while you stand and take the fall~
in a cubicle, with mistletoe,
this lonesome caroler hums
it's all benign,
please don't resign
before the yule tide comes

(Chorus)
Want to see you here on Christmas
don't leave us all alone
want to hear you 'woe ho ho' again
so don't slam down the phone~
don't make that snap decision
when the pressure starts to build
just let the steam out somewhere else
and let your heart be filled
with joy

At the meeting, you suggested
wrap the garland and a bow
and all the trimmings, here and there
around whose neck, we know
the one about the lighting
the star atop her head
and now the head of operations,
wants to move you to the shed.

They just don't understand you,
your work is so complex
you didn't sign his Christmas card
but the boss still signs your checks
so don't be rash, just try to hash it out
and make a deal,
and let bygones be gone
before the office Christmas meal.

(Chorus)
Want to see you here on Christmas
please don't leave us all alone
want to hear you 'woe ho ho' again
so don't slam down the phone
and don't make that snap decision
when the pressure starts to build
just let the steam out somewhere else
and let your heart be filled
with joy

the run around and me

He went around
and came around, and went around again~
Then he came around, went back around
and came around again.

"What's with all the run-around?"
I asked my breathless friend
"Guess what goes around, will come around
and right up to the end."

"But what's all this you're chasin, then?"
I asked the weary clown~
"Been chasin' all these wimin,
and they've yet to slow me down."

"Who runs this ride, you run beside,
and can't they cut the speed?"
"I have no clue, but maybe you
can jump this thing, and plead."

"One last run around, dear girl
take a ride and wait for me,
it won't be long, enjoy the song,
I'm a sick sorry son of a b."

I hopped aboard his dream machine
where ladies rode the poles
and pushed passed blown out bimbos
to the room which housed controls.

I peeked inside the window there
and much to my surprise
no one was manning anything
on this carousel of lies.

A sea of lovely lonelies
ride 'The Future' from the past
around again a few more times
our lives are fading fast.

Suddenly he's on the ground
and draggin' on his knees
with sweat upon his forehead,
I said, "Jackass, LET GO, please."

"One last run around, dear girl,
don't you worry none 'bout me
appreciate your deep concern
I'm a sick sorry son of a b".

Well, it took some major doing
to release his grip of fear
and then I jumped, and bruised and bumped
was finally in the clear.

"we've cashed in all our chips today,
but we'll be back, you see-
you push to run the Future
and I'm a freakin' fool for thee.

We hobbled from the Carn-evil,
my weary friend and me
what goes around will come around
dear God please set us free.

No Returns

He bought them from his cousin
they were shiny black and new
the man was doing business
and at a fair price too.

Well they looked like patent leather
reflecting back, he smiles
he wore them out to church
and had put on several miles.

One day the skies grew darker
and the rain began to splatter
the drops absorbed into the shoes
well not a sight was sadder

For the shoes were made of paper
and his cousin bought the stock
from a man who made his livin'
shoeing feet that used to walk.

The business had been slowing
at God's Shoe store for the Saints
though reports were never glowing
he rarely got complaints.

I am told my father's cousin
owned a bar on Irving Street
and fitted many customers
while they still had living feet.

Many of the regulars
brought back their soggy shoes
I am sorry but there's no returns
can I pour you up some booze?

Take The Shame!

My sister sent some money 'cause things had gone to hell
She said, "You don't belong there Honey, a trip home will do you well."

On a three day smelly bus ride away from what had been obscene
turned my nose to New York City where the air was fresh and clean.

Pulled into Central Station, a different kind of highland
was met by my dear sister, a castaway on Gov'nors Isand.

Being broke was half the trouble,and we played it like a game
but the nasty shoe debacle, well it made me take the shame.

I didn't know quite what to do, but I knew I had a job,
a suit of hounds-tooth off 'The Give', and my hair cut in a bob.

The suit was fitting perfectly, for shoes we found some flats
pink with silver circled cut-outs, kind of clownish without spats.

Well I stood there in a laugh-cry, 'cause my job was in the city
I gotta make these babies black or be lookin' 'Hello Kitty'.

So she gets that strange expression, perhaps as from the Lord
In an empty apartment down the hall was some paint for the old baseboard.

We laughed the night we dipped the shoes,laughed until we cried
And early the next morning, it seemed the paint had dried.

You could see that they were shiny and ready for the weather
and from an eyeball's distance they could pass for patent leather.

I was ever careful as I slipped my stockinged toes
into brand new 'hello baseboard' shoes and no-frills tailored clothes.

Mincing along, but gingerly I hopped aboard the ferry
missed the bus to Beekman, in the dark, the walk was scary.

Made it the building not a minute did I lose
I tidied up my hair and then I glanced down at my shoes...

Blasted bloody got 'em muddy, bits of paper grass and sand
I heard my toes scream out, "Hey, buddy, for shoes, tar paint is banned!"

Quickly then I kicked 'em off and tried to wipe 'em clean
but every little thing unstuck took off the tacky sheen.

I did my best to conceal a sob but had to pay my dues
as more than one allergic snob caught sight of battered shoes.

I tried to blacken out the pink, with a big old magic marker
but folks complained about the 'stink', and not a day was darker.

At 5 PM, back on the street, with nowhere else to roam
my misery was made replete, as I tracked some more dirt home.



Anonymous said...
I remember the night well, first a trip to the 'GIVE' - a community table in the common laundry room , where rejected stuff gets a second chance... it was a cold and dark fall night in NYC. Now back upstairs with our find- a pair of pink flats and a hounds tooth suit- bright idea #1- Paint the shoes black. I remember the empty apt. just down the hall. The pungent paint odors still wafting. The workmen were there earlier that day scraping up the old lamimate tiles in the small apt. That apt faced east, overlooking the Verezano Bridge. I remember seeing it sparkling like a diamond necklace as I cracked a window to abate the fumes. "It's around somewhere", I thought to my self, "Keep looking". The men were using this tarry black substance to paint old rubber base board or glue tile down. It would work nicely to cover over the pink & silver 1980's shoes. I was never the brightest crayon in the box, but that paint could save my sister the embarrasment of not having proper shoes to wear on her first day on the job. Mom always said, " Necessity is the mother of invention". I had only one choice. Get that black tarpaint and a brush. It wouldnt take much. The door was left open. I snuck in and grabbed what was left. Yes, we dipped the shoes, laid them on the heater on an opened brown bag, praying they would dry over night. So they didnt. Hence the shame. We did laugh till we cried, and I'm sure I peed my pants! I cried when I saw you walk through the door that next evening- everything that the streets of lower Manhattan could afford stuck tightly to those things... you name it it was on there. What you do for love! Sorry sis, we tried. Thanks! Your poem is so funny! I laugh my head off remembering. Love you.

Sweet Mysteries

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
the keyhole.

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 cuts 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 how I can tell you
just what's on my mind
I am corny and weird and unkind,
sometimes...
but I say what I feel
'cause I know what is real
and 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.

Porch Swing Rhythm

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
watching millions 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.

Held

the randomness
the senselessness
you strive to make life count
and then it comes to this
and in the end
you're left with pain
and someone writes a song
and it just seems inane

there is no way to justify
find meaning in your loss, you know
but still we try
there are no words
you need to hear
you only want the comfort
and it seems so clear

it's in our hearts
we want to take
your misery,
to share your grief
and ease the ache
well-meaning words
it's just the thought
and sinking down
too weak to stand
with arms you're caught

held up and loved
in silence there
is something more
than words can say
to show we care...

...just being there.

Sangwen de Lamanel

Snuggled in Downey, five-hundred thread county, creating,
in brushed cotton flannel she's sewn his panels, he's waiting
when down in the subway he sits on a nail
and jumping up, empties his cup on the rail
the coppers subdue him, and drag him to jail, parading.

Stripped to the drawers for a search they discovered the flannel
panel
when asked of the man who had frozen his can in the English
channel
he gave them the name of his seamstress and then
discovered that inside the panel was penned,
a note from the woman who goes by Sangwen de Lemanel:

"If you find this it means you have bust loose the seams of your winsulation
come back to my shack, I'll be happy to tack without hintsulation
of course, if by chance, you'd be wanting some scones
while I fix up your pants, you can warm up your bones
and I'll double the thickness and strength for your own consolation".

Though the note in the pants, at a glance, hardly worth the debating
somewhat cryptic in places, suggested the seamstress was dating
could it be that this maiden with needle and thread
was hiding an inmate who'd recently fled
it was suspect, her stitch-work, a cover: abetting and aiding.

Intent upon solving the case of the note in the panel
Sherlock Dannel rode down to the seamstress and brought her some flannel
"I've sewn quilts, without guilt, for the queen, rest her soul,
and the king wore my hats, though his head had a hole
but the rest of my work will attest to my innocence, Dannel".

And Sherlock, so taken with Sangwen, whose voice was sedating
missed the gist of her kiss, but the point of this pistol elating
"See I'm really quite good with a needle and thread
but in cases left traces of blood on the dead
when my needles were shed from drawers of the bores who were waiting."

The man was immersed, but well versed in the curse of the smitten
he saw that this seamstress was shrewd and her verses well written
and hiding her needles and notes could avail
in busting loose criminals down at the jail
and if he had his way, on this day, in the pen she'd be knittin'.



darn it...

Misery Loves Company

I took a walk with Misery
we've been walking for a while
sometimes he says I go too slow
but I'll go that extra mile.

We don't say much and that's okay,
I'm not much one for talking
Silence makes good company
though some may find this shocking.

Well Misery's been up and down
these old familiar roads
prefers to walk with strangers now
who'll kick against the goads.

He's seen his share of Trouble
it invites him in for tea;
he walks the sullen pathway home
alongside Sympathy.

They take the train quite often
and meet up at the bars
Self Pity's always waiting
with her bottle, wounds and scars.

They buy a round and toast the clown
whose always got one-liners
to keep the crowd distracted
from the sad-sack whining piners.

Adversity can test your will
and take away your smile
you might meet up with Misery
and settle for a while,

to dwell upon the negative
will limit where you go~
and stuck inside, you'll just abide,
and surely miss the show.

Reflecting on old Misery,
I've often let him lead
through disappointments,
heartache,
and my own uncertain need.

I slow my pace and let him pass,
and turning up the sound
I bid farewell to Misery,
it's time to turn around!

Loved

It started with a couplet
quite easy to direct
but blossomed into something else
beyond my intellect.

I am only one,
I ask you, what can one girl can do?
You fed thousands fish and loaves
though you only had a few.

You healed the sick and dying
saying "Greater shall you do"
But I am only human, Jesus,
how can that be true?

And then You say you are 'I AM',
I AM alive in you.
And I say "OK, Good enough~
The Truth will have to do".

So how 'bout we just keep in touch
if You're that close, sweet Lord
It won't take long to reach You
and that's a call I can afford.

Very clever little G
you're starting out just fine
and when the need is there
just speak the water into wine.

Heal sick and broken hearted
lead a soul out of the flame
It's not your job to worry how
just do it in my Name.

Do not worry how you'll look
or what you're gonna say
just be yourself and let Me
be The Light that shines The Way.

Jesus was a real man
the books will verify
at 33 they nailed him
to a chunk of wood to die.

And to be sure that he was dead
hanging naked on a cross
they speared him though, and left him there
my Jewish carpenter boss.

And not a word was written
that He would not fulfill
the scene was painted well before
the making of the hill.

All men can be redeemed
that is,
bought back with His own blood
we cannot pay the price for sin
He freed us by His Love.

Written long before his birth
their KING would rise day three
and so it was, and so it is
that I AM lives in me.

And to many, it may seem absurd
but this is not a game
I am aware of the price He paid
and the power of His Name.

I've no stake in religion
there's nothing there for me
but I will follow Christ alone
His Love has set me free.

And though I am just one girl
and crazy into rhyming
In prayer I find my comfort
and I trust him with the timing.

Never Let You Go- Evermore

the bottom of the bay

Staring into hazy eyes
I slowly start to realize
that you are several leagues away,
and now I understand~
Tried to solve the mystery
went looking for some history
I'd dive back down if just to see
and stir the sleeping sand.

We drown out all the pain we feel
far-away things seem not as real
but there's a ton of brokenness
on the bottom of the bay
weighted well to keep it down
in hopes that time would surely drown
the misery which hangs around
to cloud the dreary day.

I didn't know just what you felt
the searing fire, the burning welt
the scars of life, of loss and such
which numbed your spirit, hurt so much
and wounds so deep, they should have bled
attended to, would heal~ instead
they linger painlessly, you've said
in places way too deep to touch.

I feel the tug upon my fin
and draw a breath of water in
and surface here to find I've been
caught up in love's allusion.
you nearly dried me in the sun
and here I'm thinking 'so much fun'
but like all fish, I've come undone
awakened, our delusion.

I'll never truly understand
for I'm a fish and you're a man
I swim in garbage, not my plan
it's only your pollution.
there's no way a fish will drown
I'll let the current take me down
one more gem in Neptune's crown
and that is my solution.

I make my bed there in the deep
and on my watch, I rarely sleep
the nets they drag for memories,
I keep them all from catching~
the one's you've drowned there in a heep
the painful one's I'd rather keep
and as I swim this sea of *bleep*
none will be for snatching.

Muted

in the filtered
blue glow
of your favorite late show
with the light
from the bathroom
left on~
I can make out
your face
and it's hard
to erase
from my memory,
although you
are gone.

In our silence
a sweetness,
a comfort, it's true
needing less
to be said
meant much more~
we lived well
in our day
and had so much
to say
but your smile,
it just cut
to my core.

And we sat side by side
on the sofa
twas your hand
on my ankle
which said~
I am here,
you are there,
theres no distance
I swear,
you still whisper
sweet nothings
in bed.

So forgive me
for getting
all sappy
but the late show
is on
and you're there~
in the blue
of the den,
I can't hear
Letterman
he's been muted,
so music can blare.