Friday, August 11, 2006

News from the World

In this dusty town
Beside the river
The towers crawl upward
Facing dusk light

The lowlands overgrown
With the green
The bottomless heaven of
Cool white dew

Im cut off here
From my homeland
Whom shall I send
My letters to

Because the news is all war...
War still roaming the countryside
After all these years.

Wake up!

Fatigue makes cowards of most men.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

How I feel

This morning I woke up
and the world does not feel like
It is going to make it.
With the heat and the war and rumors
Of war.
I woke up this morning with my
two yr old daughter saying "Up Da, Up "
and I knew what I needed to do.
But there is so little time and you
don't even know do you?
Ava sings to me when we
drive to her day care.
She sings to me!
So Take Warning...I am resolved to
Force clarity upon you.
Who knows maybe you'll like it..
I will not be lazy and I will never quit...
Know this.

A message to you rudi...


Tuesday, May 16, 2006

What should we do about that moon? by Hafiz

A wine bottle fell from a wagon
And broke open in a field.

That night one hundred beetles and all their cousins

And did some serious binge drinking.

They even found some seed husks nearby
And began to play them like drums and whirl....
This made God very happy.

Then the Night Candle rose into the sky
And one drunk creature, laying down his instrument,
Said to his friend-for no apparent

"What should we do about that moon?"

Seems to Hafiz
Most everyone has laid aside the music

Tackling such profoundly useless

Thursday, May 11, 2006


The Sun
Longing for the Dawn
Floats through taut-darkness
Speaks ancient sweet-tongued spells
Voice aflame in the eastern sky
Bright burning ships binding
The great devil
Ra bends down and wipes away
Memnon grief from the leaf
As golden haired Aurora weeps
Gathering stars in her arms
She sings, 'Rise up, Rise up...
And face the day'
She forgets that with the hours
We too grow old
Tithonus celestial robed as we are
With serpents and thunder clouds
In our way before we reach the chamber

But the Light never dies
Gives us the faith to carry on
To rage against the darkness
To face the day

And we being made a little
Lower that the Sun
Children of the Light and so much brighter
Give on last azalea sigh
Pull the blanket of Anubis
Over us to leave the Twin
Smiling in the empyreal sky
To chase dreams to the other side
And see
That just like the Sun
We too are still searching
Longing for the Dawn.

Friday, March 31, 2006

Those Who Stand Up And Speak

In the stinging heat of central
American jungles
Among snakes and pyramid temples
In Prague-city of a hundred spires-
In New York, in Dallas
Among the contract movers and buyers,
In Dublin and Belfast,
On the red stone streets of Tiananmen square
I hear they cut them down
Those who stand up and speak.

Zapata stood
El Hombre Indian clothed
Ghost horse rider.
Mexico City feared him
Plan of Ayala in right hand
Rifle and reins in the other.
Spreading poison truth among
Drooling hacendado codo.
Stood and demanded Libertad, Justicia, y Ley!
Told his jefes...
"Everything the government offers you is a lie."
Then one day while searching for cool shade,
Weary of politricks and war
They made sure Emilliano couldn't
Stand up anymore.
Yeah, they cut them down
Those who stand up and speak.

In Dublin city May 1916
The Irish Republic Brotherhood stood
"Poblact na Heirean"
Shook the shores of England
As Patrick Pearse poet warrior
Who held it a Christian thing
To hate evil, to hate untruth,
To hate oppression.
He knew his foe strong and wise
But even heads of state with their
Mercs and lies cannot undo miracles.
"Life springs from death and from
The graves of patriot men and women spring forth nations"
But one thing I know...
That after they've ordered a trench to be dug
Deep enough for a hundred bodies
They line them up and they shoot them
James Connolly, Thomas Clarke,
Pacifist Francis Skeffington, Macdermott.
They cut them down
Those who stand up and speak.

They tracked Che' Guevera down
In burning Bolivian jungle 1967
While in the Pentagon halls fat generals
Scheme and Cuban-Castro dreams
What is definite is the decision to struggle
The consciousness of the need for revolutionary change
Yet Che's own funeral dirge was the staccato singing of
Machine-gun firing squad
Body just discovered in these still
Unchanging...ideal conditions for the fight
Yeah, I know, they cut them down
Those who stand up and speak.

So don't you ever forget Beijing
When one man stood
Face fuzzy from satellite reception
Fronting tank and communism back against the wall.
With a sack in each hand
Glancing over right shoulder-gestured
Come join me in this revolution!
No one knows what happened to him
But I guarantee you they
Cut them down
Those who stand up and speak.

In Czechoslovakia-
Spring of Prague...
Poets, playwrights, workers, students,
Teachers and songwriters stood.
For there was no question of
Overthrowing communist regime
No question of snubbing Soviet alliance
There was floating in the air
A clear desire
An irresistible force toward freedom!
Freedom of literature!
Freedom of the arts!
Freedom of music!
Honesty in politics and public life
No more red stitch across the lips
Hands and feet cut to the nub.
-August 21, 1968-
Soviet-German, Hungarian and Polish
Errand boys stormed into the city of spires
And "trpelivost".
German divisions wore Russian Red Army uniforms
Their own bearing too much likeness to 1938
Past Nazi disgrace.
Now Slovack, Czech, student and workers
Sing in the street lined with war-machines
"You have tanks and guns,
We have truth and our finest hour-
You only have the power to beat and betray
Beat and betray
We only sing a song
And this is what we say...
Go away, go away, go away!"

But they cut them down
Those who stand up and speak.

Here in free America!
Man of Jesus peace and neo-Gandhian persuasion
Martin Luther King stood
Then he marched and he marched
Just another Christian soldier
With weapon of love in his hand
From Selma to Birmingham to
Washington D.C. ghetto streets
Exposing racists redneck segregation
He chanted...
"We have a moral responsibility
To disobey unjust laws!
To expose evils that are rooted
Deep in the structure"
Then he stood up
With those television, newspaper bulbs flashing
Speaking out against Vietnam and
American Imperialism
$500,000 was spent to kill one enemy soldier
Only $35 a year was spent to assist one American
In poverty"
He prophesied and said
"Your own government the greatest purveyor of violence!"
Networks and demons scrambled into dark corners
Then they shot him down
Because he didn't stay seated!

Still the people sing on...
"You have tanks and guns,
We have truth and our finest hour
You only have power to beat and betray
To beat and betray

I only sing a song and this is what I say
Go away, go away, go away!

Yeah I know I know
They cut them down
Those who stand up and speak.

Saturday, March 18, 2006

The Blues and Mr. Johnson

The blues linger in my head
Like dust kicked up by a breath
Spit down by the high noon sun...
Makes a man seek shelter and
A cool drink, some courage to face the night...
But the song slithers,
Searches for the beaten heart,
Caresses and cares for,
Lulls to sleep with firewater and swayin' hips...
The beat of a shaman in a asphalt jungle
Pokes and prods this white Czech-Irish boy
To run...Run headlong into the dream
The soul that born the violence,
The sufferin', the blues...
Blurred vision of beat prophet with
No teeth, guitar in lap and a voice
That pours over me like gravel across my face...
Lonely wanderer,
Seer of doom and despair looks up at me
Sitting there in my uncomfortible chair and
I swear I saw the blues leap out of that ancient sage
Stand up on the stage
Let out a hollow, hair-raisin' scream...
Walk up to me like a man and then punched me out for the night.*

*(the first night I saw U.P. Wilson and Robert Ealey at the Bluebird)

Friday, March 17, 2006

3rd St. and Houston

She waits at the curb
Between 3rd St. and Houston
Wanting to cross the street and come to me
Greets me with a smile and a poem
" I know you
Looking into your earth tones
Your laughter makes peace and
I can't understand where or how
But the wind through your hair
Reminds me of November....
I miss the kiss just after you leave
So promise you never will."