Texas Love Song
Elton John and Bernie Taupin
I heard from a friend you'd been messing around
With a cute little thing I'd been dating uptown
Well I don't know if I like that idea much
Well you'd better stay clear I might start acting rough
You out of town guys sure think you're real keen
Think all of us boys are homespun and green
But that's wrong my friend so get this through your head
We're tough and we're Texan with necks good and red
So it's Ki yi yippie yi yi
You long hairs are sure gonna die
Our American home was clean till you came
And kids still respected the president's name
And the eagle still flew in the sky
Hearts filled with national pride
Then you came along with your drug-crazy songs
Goddamit you're all gonna die
How dare you sit there and drink all our beer
Oh it's made for us workers who sweat spit and swear
The minds of our daughters are poisoned by you
With your communistic politics and them negro blues
Well I'm gonna quit talking and take action now
Run all of you fairies clean out of this town
Oh I'm dog tired of watching you mess up our lives
Spending the summertime naturally high
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Salon.com - "We sing the body electric..."
Sometimes I feel
Bad about the way I
Look.
Oh well. At least I can
Write poetry.
It's easy!
-- Anonymous staff member from the Academy of American Poets
and more at link.
Sometimes I feel
Bad about the way I
Look.
Oh well. At least I can
Write poetry.
It's easy!
-- Anonymous staff member from the Academy of American Poets
and more at link.
Soul Works
+++++++++++++++++
What van Gogh saw
by Raphaelle Kosek
Van Gogh saw
the way our hearts burn
like the pinwheel stars
swirling in the night-mad sky,
the way our spirits,
bent and bruised in life's field,
reach endlessly upward
like the cypress trees
full of knotty whorls
curling upwards to mingle with,
and plead benediction from,
the sea-waved sky,
the way wild-maned sunflowers
are almost dizzy with themselves
and the power of heavy seed
flaming within them.
Lose an ear,
lose your mind.
Lose your life,
while your resolve scatters
like crows over the wheatfield
and Lazarus forever blooms
under a fiery sun.
Raphaelle Kosek writes, teaches, and celebrates in the beautiful
Hudson Valley of New York. This poem appeared in the July-August
1997 issue of Sojourners.: http://go.sojo.net/ct/T1axZE11OXcn/
+ Read more about Vincent van Gogh in Sojourners:
http://go.sojo.net/ct/TdaxZE11OXc8/ magazine
+++++++++++++++++
What van Gogh saw
by Raphaelle Kosek
Van Gogh saw
the way our hearts burn
like the pinwheel stars
swirling in the night-mad sky,
the way our spirits,
bent and bruised in life's field,
reach endlessly upward
like the cypress trees
full of knotty whorls
curling upwards to mingle with,
and plead benediction from,
the sea-waved sky,
the way wild-maned sunflowers
are almost dizzy with themselves
and the power of heavy seed
flaming within them.
Lose an ear,
lose your mind.
Lose your life,
while your resolve scatters
like crows over the wheatfield
and Lazarus forever blooms
under a fiery sun.
Raphaelle Kosek writes, teaches, and celebrates in the beautiful
Hudson Valley of New York. This poem appeared in the July-August
1997 issue of Sojourners.: http://go.sojo.net/ct/T1axZE11OXcn/
+ Read more about Vincent van Gogh in Sojourners:
http://go.sojo.net/ct/TdaxZE11OXc8/ magazine
Friday, February 04, 2005
From Human Wishes by Robert Hass
"Privilege Of Being"
... clutching each other with old, invented
forms of grace and clumsy gratitude, ready
to be alone again, or dissatisfied, or merely
companionable like the couples on the summer beach
reading magazine articles about intimacy between the sexes
to themselves, and to each other,
and to the immense, illiterate, consoling angels.
"Santa Barbara Road"
Household verses: "Who are you?"
the rubber duck in my hand asked Kristin
once, while she was bathing, three years old.
"Kristin," she said, laughing, her delicious
name, delicious self. "That's just your name,"
the duck said. "Who are you?" "Kristin,"
she said. "Kristin's a name. Who are you?"
the duck asked. She said, shrugging,
"Mommy, Daddy, Leif."
"Privilege Of Being"
... clutching each other with old, invented
forms of grace and clumsy gratitude, ready
to be alone again, or dissatisfied, or merely
companionable like the couples on the summer beach
reading magazine articles about intimacy between the sexes
to themselves, and to each other,
and to the immense, illiterate, consoling angels.
"Santa Barbara Road"
Household verses: "Who are you?"
the rubber duck in my hand asked Kristin
once, while she was bathing, three years old.
"Kristin," she said, laughing, her delicious
name, delicious self. "That's just your name,"
the duck said. "Who are you?" "Kristin,"
she said. "Kristin's a name. Who are you?"
the duck asked. She said, shrugging,
"Mommy, Daddy, Leif."
FROM the Voyeur: Poem: COMING DOWN FROM THE MOUNTAIN:
... You restrain me to the bed.
I would go there willingly, open
myself to you,
but the bonding is exponential to reality,
as if my mind could be changed from this course.
It cannot.
The blindfold lowers itself to my eyes,
a vital sense stilled,
conscious gentled.
Vulnerability is the midwife of control,
subtlety the offspring,
waiting, the dilation of anxiety,
measured breathing
as the will is given up, delivered.
You lose focus,
lesser senses become major,
alert sentinels of anticipation,
gentle stroking here, probing there,
hungry teeth gnawing a nipple.
Then nothing....
until the miniature glacier
begins its journey down the valley...
By Bill Cowee (enslaveme4life@aol.com)
... You restrain me to the bed.
I would go there willingly, open
myself to you,
but the bonding is exponential to reality,
as if my mind could be changed from this course.
It cannot.
The blindfold lowers itself to my eyes,
a vital sense stilled,
conscious gentled.
Vulnerability is the midwife of control,
subtlety the offspring,
waiting, the dilation of anxiety,
measured breathing
as the will is given up, delivered.
You lose focus,
lesser senses become major,
alert sentinels of anticipation,
gentle stroking here, probing there,
hungry teeth gnawing a nipple.
Then nothing....
until the miniature glacier
begins its journey down the valley...
By Bill Cowee (enslaveme4life@aol.com)
DEATH
Why did you vanish
into the empty sky?
Even the fragile snow,
when it falls,
falls in this world.
Izumi Shikibu
From Open Mind - by Diane Mariechild
Izumi's poem portrays the sorrow of a
mother mourning the death of her daughter.
The pain is palpable. There is no disguise.
There is no attempt to cover the pain
with intellectualization. We can watch to
see where the snow lands as it falls. We
can't see what happens after death. Any thoughts
we have about what might happen are just that,
thoughts. It is only our ability to directly
experience this world, the sorrow and the joy,
that brings us to a space between intellect
and emotion, beyond hope and sorrow.
el - C. Little, no less, who has a great blog of photographs, poetry, her life and sometimes politics, had this. I was out with some people the other day and the conversation turned to haikus and short image poems like this that looked so easy but weren't.
Why did you vanish
into the empty sky?
Even the fragile snow,
when it falls,
falls in this world.
Izumi Shikibu
From Open Mind - by Diane Mariechild
Izumi's poem portrays the sorrow of a
mother mourning the death of her daughter.
The pain is palpable. There is no disguise.
There is no attempt to cover the pain
with intellectualization. We can watch to
see where the snow lands as it falls. We
can't see what happens after death. Any thoughts
we have about what might happen are just that,
thoughts. It is only our ability to directly
experience this world, the sorrow and the joy,
that brings us to a space between intellect
and emotion, beyond hope and sorrow.
el - C. Little, no less, who has a great blog of photographs, poetry, her life and sometimes politics, had this. I was out with some people the other day and the conversation turned to haikus and short image poems like this that looked so easy but weren't.
Sunday, January 02, 2005
What Ever Happened to Peace On Earth - Willie Nelson
There's so many things going on in the world
Babies dying
Mothers crying
How much oil is one human life worth
And what ever happened to peace on earth
We believe everything that they tell us
They're gonna' kill us
So we gotta' kill them first
But I remember a commandment
Thou shall not kill
How much is that soldier's life worth
And whatever happened to peace on earth
(Bridge)
And the bewildered herd is still believing
Everything we've been told from our birth
Hell they won't lie to me
Not on my own damn TV
But how much is a liar's word worth
And whatever happened to peace on earth
So I guess it's just
Do unto others before they do it to you
Let's just kill em' all and let God sort em' out
Is this what God wants us to do
(Repeat Bridge)
And the bewildered herd is still believing
Everything we've been told from our birth
Hell they won't lie to me
Not on my own damn TV
But how much is a liar's word worth
And whatever happened to peace on earth
Now you probably won't hear this on your radio
Probably not on your local TV
But if there's a time, and if you're ever so inclined
You can always hear it from me
How much is one picker's word worth
And whatever happened to peace on earth
But don't confuse caring for weakness
You can't put that label on me
The truth is my weapon of mass protection
And I believe truth sets you free
(Bridge)
And the bewildered herd is still believing
Everything we've been told from our birth
Hell they won't lie to me
Not on my own damn TV
But how much is a liar's word worth
And whatever happened to peace on earth.
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