Saturday, April 30, 2005

Poem: Criminally Right

Criminally Right

Litany of failings
Define criminality
Wrought upon whole peoples
Within and without their realm

Bankrupting a nation
Literally devising
And in creeping mindset
Blind with decadent hatred

Walking among shadows
Containing truths unrevealed
Obstruction, destruction
Insane with zealous raging

Crusaders of a cause
Mask intentions, ignoble
To lead their sheep amiss
Down paths of empty virtue

Preach biblical promise
Of revisionist making
For no God can exist
In this criminally Right

Copyright SGW 2005

Monday, April 25, 2005

Poem: Sisters and Brothers

Because no one's love is worth less then another's.

Sisters and Brothers

No matter the difference
Quite alike at the core
Sisters and brothers
Nothing less, nothing more

Point to disparity
But love’s all the same
A pairing is worthy
Of its equal acclaim

God built within us
Surely God won’t deny
No one’s a sinner
Where the heart doth apply

A person’s attractions
All their own to pursue
Thoughtless assumptions
Found where fears misconstrue

Hope in attainment
Dreams to uncover
Love holds no limits
For a sister or brother

Copyright SGW 2005

Sunday, April 24, 2005

Songs that Resonate this Morning

Listening to Thea Gilmore's CD of covers called "Loftmusic," I was struck by two songs for what they mean today. The first, John Fogarty's "Bad Moon Rising," seems indicative of our time and where George Bush and all the other religious zealots of this country have led us. The second, Phil Ochs's "When I'm Gone," reminds me of why the fight cannot be relinquished - this world and life are too much of a beautiful thing to succumb to the evils being perpretrated.

Buy and listen to Thea's versions of these songs; one is haunting and the other sweet, tender and without resignation.

(John Fogarty)

I see the bad moon arising.
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightnin’.
I see bad times today.

Don’t go around tonight,
Well, it’s bound to take your life,
There’s a bad moon on the rise.

I hear hurricanes ablowing.
I know the end is coming soon.
I fear rivers over flowing.
I hear the voice of rage and ruin.


All right!
Hope you got your things together.
Hope you are quite prepared to die.
Looks like we’re in for nasty weather.
One eye is taken for an eye.


When I'm Gone
(Phil Ochs)

There's no place in this world where I'll belong when I'm gone
And I won't know the right from the wrong when I'm gone
And you won't find me singin' on this song when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

And I won't feel the flowing of the time when I'm gone
All the pleasures of love will not be mine when I'm gone
My pen won't pour out a lyric line when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

And I won't breathe the bracing air when I'm gone
And I can't even worry 'bout my cares when I'm gone
Won't be asked to do my share when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

And I won't be running from the rain when I'm gone
And I can't even suffer from the pain when I'm gone
Can't say who's to praise and who's to blame when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

Won't see the golden of the sun when I'm gone
And the evenings and the mornings will be one when I'm gone
Can't be singing louder than the guns when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

All my days won't be dances of delight when I'm gone
And the sands will be shifting from my sight when I'm gone
Can't add my name into the fight while I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

And I won't be laughing at the lies when I'm gone
And I can't question how or when or why when I'm gone
Can't live proud enough to die when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

Friday, April 15, 2005

Poem: Storyteller

Ok, for National Poetry Month, here's my entry. I was sitting in a coffeehouse and could not write anything. Scrap upon scrap found its way to the trash. A singer/songwriter, George Wirth, began performing, and his ability to tell a story overwhelmed me with imagery and detail. I wrote this portrait of him. I had the good fortune to share this piece with George and his wife. They were so pleased and appreciative. Two artists making each other feel good with their art.


Words expressive of life’s lessons.
Guitar chords reveal reflections
To moments passed by time’s resolve.
And the storyteller dances
Within verses; subtle moments.
Presenting images unknown
Yet understood by quiet souls
Inside their own contemplations.
Common bonds, unrelated thoughts,
Come together with shared embrace
As connective humanity.

Copyright SGW 2005