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A SOUL TO KEEP
In a dark, cluttered room
Stones fallen from a once great Cathedral.
I sat on a cold, hard bench
and watched her walk toward me.
She sat close to me,
her long dark hair, light on her shoulders.
There was something in our space
something we couldn’t see.
She pressed into me and whispered
what could it be?
We broke,
I watched her walk away, thinking,
I’m looking at me.
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CLOTHES
My clothes, though passable,
are really quite laughable
Who could dress so badly,
with old leather shoes
And pants hanging sadly
I never did get it, you know
the right way to dress
Guess I just think its okay,
if I don’t look a mess
Just look at those guys,
with their shirts pressed and sharp
Even when they’re not,
they look smart
I look like a bum,
though I’ve given up the rum
Well, I guess I’ll just face it,
though I do so sadly,
I’ll be just dandy
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1969
Someone put a marijuana flag
up on a statue's head
But one guy didn’t like it,
so he climbed on top instead
We watched the scene in wonder
What is this about?
Why are all these students here?
And who’s the nut on top?
Pretty girls with books and babies,
long haired boys alike,
raised their fists and skulked around
and the guy on top was in a jam,
with no way to get down
We had no time to see the end,
on a waning two day pass,
for the night before, we had drank much wine
there in Richmond Virginia,
back in nineteen sixty nine
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JINGLE BELLS , MORTAR SHELLS
Its Christmas without snow
Reading letters, cut with ink
and signed with stamps
Singing Jingle Bells, Mortar Shells,
VC in the grass
Number one walks with a limp,
he got hit in the hip
In the high grass where the plastic mummy froze
Singing Jingle Bells, Mortar Shells,
VC in the grass
Back in the world,
the home boys know,
We all take hits
We sing Jingle Bells, Mortar Shells,
VC in the grass
Me? I’m still waiting for the bus
Don’t get all the fuss
What’s it matter what I do?
I sing Jingle Bells, Mortar Shells,
VC in the grass
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TAKE IT IN STRIDE
A carton of roses well met for our noses,
picked from the brushes and brought to the lushes
If you call for the Sterno your gut’s an inferno,
but the bread with the jelly is good for the belly
So you spill when you swill,
but take it in stride,
you can wash it in Tide
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THE OLD STONE GATE
Back then, the old stone gate was white
It smacked bold in the day and kept mild at night
Nourished by the lives of the people there,
it made for itself a king-like air
But the hard wind and rain take their toll,
and old stone cracks, as tired hearts grow cold
Yet still it stands, though in a battered state
Proud , defiant and alone,
The Old Stone Gate
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SPARROW SPEAK
Once a sparrow came to me
and flashed a broken wing
As I reached down he hopped away
I shrugged, oh-well, another day
To my surprise the bird came back
and I knew that he could speak
With beak shut, as tight as a prison gate,
the wounded sparrow spoke of Fate
I never chose to be a bird
Guess it just came out that way
Some say a bird can only be a bird
Well, anyway, that’s something I once heard
But now I know that that’s a lie and
I have but one thing
left to say
A bird can’t be a bird, if he can’t fly away
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