Poetry

A song for children to play games by.

I feel the summer comin’ on
Yellow and green lazy days
If I can please let me stay
Ramble my wind song
And sing the sky along it’s merry way

I’d like to be so fortunate
To run my laughing self along with you
If you can, I hope you will
Help me with my wind song
And sing the sky along it’s merry way

I’d like to give one day to you
Alone with dreams of magic things to do
If you are, then you might be
Rambling your wind song merry way

Come on children
Sing a little song to make us happy
Come on Chilfren
Then I’ll be on my way
Come on lady
Sing a little song to make us crazy
Come on lady
Then I’ll be on my way…

A song for children to play games by.

I feel the summer comin’ on
Yellow and green lazy days
If I can please let me stay
Ramble my wind song
And sing the sky along it’s merry way

I’d like to be so fortunate
To run my laughing self along with you
If you can, I hope you will
Help me with my wind song
And sing the sky along it’s merry way

I’d like to give one day to you
Alone with dreams of magic things to do
If you are, then you might be
Rambling your wind song merry way

Come on children
Sing a little song to make us happy
Come on Chilfren
Then I’ll be on my way
Come on lady
Sing a little song to make us crazy
Come on lady
Then I’ll be on my way…

Circa 1970

One, about a very real gypsy, the other, about a not so real sailor, or is he?

Kellie McBride, a Fable

Kellie McBride went walking one day, leaving her house behind her. She drank of the nectar the gypsies had left her, and never went home again

Mad Pollyanna with visions of Eden
Seeking a mooncalf’s home
Caught in the stream of bright tambourines
She joined in the gypsy roaming

Sang with their singing, danced with their dance
Rolled in their joy and sorrow
The piper he played her soft heart away
With never a care for tomorrow

He played in the morning to bring her from sleep
While softly the clouds danced above her
Fell in love with the piper, she became is wife
He vowed by the stars that he loved her

The rain-makers son, one day for fun
Stole a kiss from sweet Kellie
The piper, he cried
“A vow til I die, I’ll follow him into hell!”
Rainmaker’s son, far he did run

The piper he knelt to his bride
“I may be a wise man, perhaps a fool
I’ll  have no peace til he dies”
Kellie cried “No, I can’t let you go
For if you are gone it will kill me”

The piper he smiled, “Fear not, precious child
I must have revenge, my heart wills me”
The piper that day went riding away
Promised return by nightfall
He died for his queen
Or so it seems
He never returned at all

Kellie McBride, clothed in her sorrow
Draped in a midnight gown
Wandered away, and never came back
No one knows where Kellie McBride went down

Kellie McBride went walking one day
Leaving her house behind her
She drank of the nectar the gypsies had left her
And never went home again

1970

The Small Story of Long John Nuncle

Long John was a sailor
Bound for the sea of the Moon
Long John had a boat (in a bottle in a tiny room)
He called to his cabin boy
(a small black cat)
Cried, “fetch me a flagon of ale”
And wind did rise
And the boat set sail

Long John had a treasure
Bound for the port of the Rain
(Pieces of eight that he saved from a broken window pane)
Diving for treasure in a porcelain sea
And singing a nautical song
The wind did rise
And he sailed along

Long John was a sailor
The sea was an old man’s mind
Long John sailed alone in the wind of another time
He laughed so hard when they called him mad
That he nearly fell off of his bed
But he held his course
And he sailed ahead
Long John, where do you sail?

Circa 1970

Silent Rain

There is such a thing. And it took me a year and a trip to New York to find out. In a large cold city you can’t hear it.

Down the street I hear
Children are laughing
Playing games til the end of the day
Magic carpets and bright shining houses
Moonbeams made out of clay

There’s the mark of her head
On my pillow
The stains of our love in my eyes
Magic carpets meant only for walking
So I’m walking away

Voices
In the rain
Silently they seem to call my name
Voices
Telling me
I will never see the sun again
And the visions of a happiness
That I’ve never known before
Are gone
They are gone

“You were running boy
You caught the world in bloom
Now the silent rain
Falls on your lonely room
Sweep the cobwebs from your windows
Though there’s nothing left to see
All unbound her hair is falling
Silent rain alone will see.”

(and winter comes to the garden)
In the darkness the children are crying
Magic carpets lay still on the floor
Shiny houses are fading forever
Somewhere the water breaks

Somewhere it flows
Somewhere the silent rain falls
But it’s nothing at all

Circa 1970

Indian Bed

I never knew what this was for. I just wrote it one day last winter.

This  is a song about ticket stubs
Ivory and ebony
Cigarettes and plastic whistles
All on the Indian Bed
Song to the motherland
Head roads and heart attacks
Crying on a downy thistle
All on the Indian Bed

Winged archer flown from home
Far, too far to think about
Some remembered names forgotten
Don’t let it go to your head
Lonely chance in a theater’s womb
Ivory and ebony
Cough aloud and rest your head
Don’t let the dark upset you

Play upon this magic flute
Lavender and yellow
Play and someone maybe hears
Smiles and says hello
Saying something I’m not sure of
Speaking in tongues only angels and demons hear
As I lie within this silken chamber
All on the Indian Bed

Circa 1970

Express Highway

A very sinister blues, that I rarely perform, written on a greyhound between New York and Allentown, Penn at dawn.
All of New York’s evil in three verses, a bit like taking a mental shower, getting this one out.

Neon lights they talk too much
Never worry ‘bout what they’ve said
It’s time to remember your children
Gone crazy in their beds
Chrome plated ladies, stone cold babies
Fingers bloody red
And all you do is rattle around
The rocks within your head

Tell me why you wear those wings
When you’ve got no sky to fly
And stare around the vague surroundings
Of the miles within your eyes
Roll down, drop down mama
Can’t you hear your daddy cry
Screamin’ down this tunnel
A hundred miles an hour
Just looking for a place to die

Rid the rails of a black snake
From your birthday to your grave
Sit up, get out, go down to the river
If you think you’ve got a chance to bathe
Look out, the master’s comin’ with a stick
To weed out the quick and the brave
But it’s too late, better get back to the kingdom
There’s nothing left here to save

You were right
I’m getting wasted on this cold express highway
Yes you were right
And I’m going blind just looking for the light
Of day…

Circa 1970

For Cheryl – Song of the Gypsy

Finally, I built this lady up so high in my head and now, hearing her music again, I can’t  understand why someday this might be a song.

She came from a foreign city
With her songs and with her smiles
Songs of lovers, tales of sailors
And the magic in her eyes
And the wind upon her shoulder
Saying soon she must fly

She was a gypsy, or so I saw her
Once upon a time
And she played on strings of stardust
And she moved her words in rhyme
And we touched our eyes together
That moment she was mine

Then she went her way
Leaving only this song for me
And I spend my time
Hiding dreams that will never be
There is no story
There’s no tale to tell
I know her well
But only for a moment
Only for a moment
She stands in the rain
Of falling refrains
A child of the sky

She had a name
I called her heaven
And I’ll love her til I die…

Circa 1970

A Poem for the Rock and Roll Band

From time to time we get together and play but these days are best left to the past.

The sun will rise in your sky
If your eyes will let it be
Be lonely and alone
Come and live, come and…
Waterfalls in colors
Only ears can hear
Love, what is love
What name do you speak
Through teeth of white ivory
And lips of fire
Black and old
But young, not cold
Flowers and silence

Smiling a frown
Somewhere high
Maybe down
Come at midnight
When the suns up you’ll be gone

Well…
A long way to fall
But further to climb
Well…

Just one step past forever
In a land of fire and ice
Three minstrels there were playing
Very nice

Please turn the key
To see, please be kind
Come inside
And join in our madness
The sun will rise in your sky
If your eyes will
Let it be…

Circa 1970

Rye Song AKA Little Town

For a small town in New York

Little town
Just a tiny place I’d like to settle down
And greet a smiling face each morning
‘cause I’m just about set to pack it in
Just about ready to lose
My friend, I’m thinking that one more chilling wind
Is gonna send me to my home

I’ve got a car,
It’s just a broken old chugger
But I don’t have to get too far
Up the road to a country corner
Where all I’ll have is time
To spend the rest of my life unwinding
Working on some hard earned good times
Flying on a bottle of wine

So now I’m living slow
Left the road behind me
I’ve got no place to go
But stroll on down to the ice cream parlour
Share a few words with a friend of mine
Talk about all of those early times
Back when we through there wasn’t a wall
So high that us children couldn’t climb

But I’m making plans
Best meant to save up ’til tomorrow’s end
Because there’s one more wall I’d like to climb
One more dream I’d like to find
And there’s a lady and a
Story down the highway
And I’d love to make them mine
Tomorrow is plenty of time
For my little town…

1971

Everybody’s Singing Songs About Saying Good-Bye

By Lonnie Knight and Scott Alarik

Give me one good reason why I should stay in the city
Can you take one moment, can you feel what I feel?
Can you feel the lonely breath of the city?
I feel gray when the city breathes on me

Watching weeping windows
And the peeping toms down Broadway
Bleak, in midnight movies all alone
Desolation feeds the fog in the city
All the good clean country air goes home

The city has its chains on me
And they’re cold
And they’re fine
But looking in your weary wanting eyes
You ease my mind
Like summer wine

I can close my eyes and see my footsteps
In the country
Laughing down a path that takes me home
No one there to ask me where I’m going
Feels like summertime, I’m free to roam

I could take you with me, from the city
If you want to go
Can you take one moment, come with me
Laughing down a path that leads to nowhere
Rolling down a road that sets us free…

Circa 1971

The Last Road Blindly

A journey of children, the aged seeking youth, a journey for wisdom, where lies posed as truth, one day they went out, upon a road.

Written late in the year, or perhaps early, 1969-1970

What’s in my eyes
Has the time gone so long I can’t see?
All of my trials are like paintings down a hall
And the windows stare confusion to the sea
While she waits by the sea

Songs in a dream
Can I touch you, can I hold out my hand?
While we walk near this stream
Cascading in the breeze
The haunted wind rolls madly to the sea
While she waits patiently

And the children were called together
In their hands lay a chain of tears
And their bodies were hot for laughter
And their joy laid a grave for their fears
And I raised up my head
The sleeping river answered, it is done

There in that still light
While we lie together, mirrors in the night
Holding on, our feeling ever growing
The morning comes again
And I promise until then I will be near
And I raised up my head
The sleeping river answered, it is done…

But it was not

Journey

Black sheep
Black sheep
Have you any wool?
Enough to cover my eyes?
Come divest me of my demons
Make me clown or make me fool
Keep your wisdom, devil
Please don’t make me wise

I am not an empty page
I am not an empty cup
Come erase me, fill me up
With fresh and fine design
On the rivers I will dwell
In a boat of woven reed
And float beyond the jackal’s call
And bide my time until the fall
And plant a fresh and virgin seed
And christen it with honey wine

I will wear a loose and flowing garment
Bind my hair with autumn leaves
Strip my mind of old and sullen, sudden painful memories
As all my present prophets cry
“The past is dead, lay it down to die,”
I shall sprout wings
And sweetly, sweetly fly away

1973

I Want You

No land in human terrain is less explored than love
Staying secure and defended keeps us from riches undreamed of
I had a memory of my future living in the zipcode of I don’t know
Where love sharpened all our senses and called on us to grow
We journeyed hand in glove, into the intimate communion
Naked, open, aware, alive, know the hearts of our true companion
We laugh, we cry, we wrestle, we agree to disagree
We till the soil for our beloved
We unearth the seeds of our family tree
Hello goodbye hello again
I want you I want me I want this
I want you
I want you
I want you

Daddy’s Attic

You come to know a person
By what they leave behind
And I’ve come to know myself
By the things I chanced to find
In Daddy’s attic

Now I’ve got my father’s hat
I wear it at a young man’s angle
I still look just like my dad
Oh what weird webs we tangle

Now I’ve got my first guitar
A childhood memory come to life
It’s the oldest thing I own by far
It’s older than my first wife

2008