made of good timber

Summer calls for the sounds that can't be made at any other time of the year
She hears the orchestration
Sounds that are repeated in her sleep down by the shores of the mighty Atlantic.

She looks both ways through her stained glass dreams
When she feels drained she changes her vista to fit her emotion.

Some days she looks plain as a leafless tree
Other days she's the Taj Mahal in a Down East autumn

and plays ping pong with words
whether bouncing in the 'burbs
or dancing for the sky and the delight in her eye.
So momentarily it's hard to tell if she's body & spirit or if she's more a phantom ship that drifts through your harbour.


She has a roving soul and has survived ship wrecked relationships
She's made of good timber.

You Don't Listen to Nostradamus

From the dance floor
You give me an indication
Of your need to catch the rhythm,
To get up close to your temptations.
My head is in the moon
My feet are on the moor
But your spirit is flooding the room
And I can't make it to the door.

You don't listen to Nostradamus
The birds teach you what's relevant
You count up the pluses
Bundled up and abundant.

Your garden grows outside
You heal yourself with green
You draw out dreams from the earth you dig,
You garden what you redeem.
My antenna's up when you're around
It's my power line
It picks up what you release
I can feel it up my spine.

You don't listen to Nostradamus
The birds teach you what's relevant
You count up the pluses
Bundled up and abundant.

Its' true what you tell me
But I've always believed you should look before you leap.
But then again there's many a broken heart
that learned neither to wake up nor to weep.
What I don't know
expands like the universe.
What makes sense,
is any love to disburse.

You don't listen to Nostradamus
The birds teach you what's relevant
You count up the pluses
Bundled up and abundant.

disrobed America

They call me the drug store explorer
I hunt down whatever the seven deadly sins can feed me.
I like to spice up the horror
And at the same time have a guarantee.

As a child I prayed to saints to help me find things
like socks and keys
and to protect me from adults who went flying off the handle
Now it's just automatic
I pop open Pandora's Box and light another candle

I'm addicted to magic
Logic delegated to a supporting role in a drawn out exegesis
I've developed my own cold reasoning to help me get my way
and take a pass on the tragic
I try to stay fit cuz I heard you have to jump an abyss

I defrost miracles at night
to prepare them for the next day.
When I light the match and the miracles ignite
I say what Dirty Harry never got to say.

I say I want no tricks but the treat of truth, but I've got a bigger appetite
growling in the solenoid switch in my brain .
It's always idling.
Waiting to be used for the the get-a-way into the giddy heart of
a disrobed America ,
and there have a peek at freedom sweet and on the upswing.

Anything to ease the load

They prayed for music to offset the news
To keep them alive on the refugee road
it didn't matter if it was concerto or blues
Anything to ease the load.

The unseen life from an unseen world
peeks out from the underworld,
it's flags unfurled
They snap in the wind,
awaken me from my somnolence,
blow off the ambivalence
of working in a downtown coal mine,
and going down blind.

They prayed for music to offset the news,
To keep them alive on the refugee road,
It didn't matter if it was concerto or blues
Anything to ease the load

I dream of a quiet spot
Where love doesn't need to be taught
Where no one fits into anyone's slot.
And I have visions of tenderness
emitting from my bones.
And discover my touch is electric
and I'm on automatic.
Like every human being
I was born elastic.

They prayed for music to offset the news
To keep them alive on the refugee road
it didn't matter if it was concerto or blues
Anything to ease the load.

Random perceptions appeal for survival,
since the time of walking upright's arrival.
Nothing has been lost , it's archival.
Nature waits patient
and invites exploration,
a big temptation
My senses begin to leak
I don't have the words to speak
I'm witness to the accident.

They prayed for music to offset the news
To keep them alive on the refugee road
it didn't matter if it was concerto or blues
Anything to ease the load.

my soul feels like the fingertips of the wind
it touches everything
the miscellaneous in me merges with the Mighty,
All 360 degrees.
Fear comes and it goes
You have to be on your toes
to distinguish
the difference between being smited and being the life of the party.
As long as you're breathing, there's always a chance for loving,
for a breakthrough
and the shedding of shame,
for love to accrue,
to recognize in everyone, that down deep diamond that shines through.

They prayed for music to offset the news.
To keep them alive on the refugee road.
It didn't matter if it was concerto or blues
Anything to ease the load.

underground parade

When you're feeling edgy
like you had to much coffee
And you gravitate towards an open window high up on a high rise
And you imagine the bottom
But it's a little too risky.
And you know you'll miss the sunshine
when it hits you like whiskey.
So you run to the elevator,
head full of Chomsky.


And take a walk through what you saw from the window
Asphalt and trees, grass and automobiles.
A little sun shining and a little breeze blowing,
And people with souls they try to conceal.
Some kind of radiation raising you to your feet,
feeling real in fields surreal.
It's as if the gods have got you by the gonads.
They want to know what you have to reveal.

Except for the traffic
everything is quiet
But there's an echo
that no one's got control over,
That strikes at your psyche
and gets you looking in the grass for a four-leaf clover.
That drives you like your stomach does when you're feeling hungry.
And you get the message your heart wants to be a forgiver.

Up on the hill, there's a good view of the city.
Everything serene,
the mind pauses
and blends into the scene.
Someone who believes it, says God bless you;
and proceeds to explain,
how the path to divinity
is spliced into the genes.

The roadblocks are obvious,
when your nose is pressed against concrete,
and standing around are guys in khaki , who with every second word they swear
and mock and stomp their feet.
They rip through bags of poetry,
eyes hard as sleet.
They follow procedure,
no small talk, not a peep.

With missiles pointed from silos,
and people eating fear and hate, with their cake and their kool-aid,
And with state sanctioned shills singing through their teeth,
I took a breath while the music played.
It sounded like Joe Cocker or Tom Waits singing Bye Bye Blackbird backwards.
I was dressed for the masquerade
Feeling jaded , I headed for the surface.
I wore my outfit in an underground parade.

when your investments hit bottom

when your investments hit bottom
and it's the season that summer's at it's end
And the cosmos shakes inside your bones
And your mind's too brittle to bend
Watch your step
if you're in the mood to comprehend
what all this language means.
Just remember you're in the company of people it's dangerous to offend.


if you come across a girl with some sparkle,
ask her to point out the destination on the map,
to where negativity does its caterpillar/ butterfly act.
At the moment I'm good for nothing except maybe taking an afternoon nap
I need to dream
before I snap.
Everyone looks dirty
I can see them set their traps.

Cassandra is a bohemian
she dresses up her demons
And walks with them downtown.
She's obsessed by Adolf Eichmann
How he was so ordinary
She proceeds with her sermon
Fortunately it's in one ear and out the other
I give a look that's pure deadpan.

All the variables have been itemized
Someone says it's time to shape up or ship out
You get the feeling there's not much of a choice
and next to no clout.
If you're thinking about calling in sick
don't get caught in a moment of self-doubt
Except for the essentials , keep your mouth shut
There's nothing to talk about.

The security is ubiquitous
like ice in January up north.
The advice you get is to pray and tell the truth.
And then you're beckoned to come forth,
to reveal everything for the common good.
They say it's good for your net worth.
They take your picture
And explain the process of your rebirth.


A moonlighting pharmaceutical company rep poured me a drink,
then he passed me some pills.
He said it'd fix me up for what was to come.
Either quietly acquiesce, he said, and accept the cheap thrills
or get an introduction to harsh interrogation
and make do with fighting windmills.
I got a flashback to when I was six
felt a chill
and coughed up the pills.

bluff

After the cops called their bluff
came a moment of questioning if it was worth it
The luxuries faded slowly or perhaps were quickly burnt off
The after taste of pleasures lingered for a while
with reduced zeal
in eyes that looked like they had enough.
You may detect a flashing equation
explaining the Theory for Everything
questioning whether it's really all that tough.
You get an answer when you feel the zing
And become disoriented because you've accumulated too much stuff.

Answers don't come easy
though you have a choice of a million possibilities sprinkled over the city
demanding attention
There's a paralysis
that growls and you don't want to feel it's bite.