Burning Effigies of 2009

Today's verse Dec.. 31, 2009

Songs for the old depression and new year.

Worse than Bukowsk, perhaps,
those who couldn't even be bothered
to write it down, about the bluebirds and
the other stuff, but hey!
I'm just saying that you are going to value some
different stuff along the way
no matter what you say

today.



So I can say that if you can give me the time of day
then I would be a man who would stand in the way
and say
that I am the only man who is here today
and if you would like another man then

hey!
That's OK.

cuz I was only here



today

In the Spirit?

Here's Annie's latest card design. She was inspired at an early age by Peter's work. While we are not planning a career in patristics at this point, she is keeping her options open, while studying the urban environment and community arts (I think it means that you know how to paint a mural next to the community garden, but it is similar to patristics in that it is all Greek to me).


On another topic, the girls and I spent a little time yesterday reading the liner notes and lyrics from the Brothers Twain album. We all felt the love.

Joyeuse....., and all that

At the Auberege de Grand Sacconex

Courtesy of Peter. Note Pedro in the background.

Today's Verse: 22 December 2009

I wanted a great man
To be
Love
Worship
Serve
Slay
Mourn
Worship
Love
Serve
Be

Today's Verse: 10 December 2009

What brought the rat in the gents
I'd like to know what brought it
Was it transient like a passenger
Or did it have a goal
For which it vanished beneath a bench
That runs along a wall
Acknowledged, by avoiding, me
I respected its need for discretion

I can't think of everything
I'm cursing cause I lost it
Maybe the boss
At a cost
Bears a cross
Inside's soft
Exhausted

Wherever he is the boy is scared of serpents
Though at home he lives in comfort
Cause he believes he is free
From sudden lunges and sibilant surprises
When traveling a sneaking suspicion awakes
That he may not be entirely safe

I can't think of everything
But the boy may just have something there
Maybe I too should take care
Beware
The unseen snake's
Silent steady intent
Thrust
Agape

I've seen a newborn puppy plays underneath the hedgerow
Who'll raise the whelp to bare his shiny fangs in an agreeable grin
To winningly sport and ingratiate
Readying to sink them deep in
Love or hunger
Any way appetite

I can't think of everything
It's morning and I gotta go
About my business
Just like everyone I know
Selfless in pursuit of self
It's in my chromosomes

A diaphanous fold of phlegm floats above
Rising on visible currents of warmth
Blissed out on its own beauty and menace
Patient and only apparently passive
Like a sigh of the inevitable
Wonder what it makes of me

I can't think of everything
I'm sorry I lost it
Lost it completely
I was feeling the pressure
In the grip of the vice
Crushing my spirit
Vexing my mind
I'm sorry I lost it
Now I'm just fine

Songs for the New Depression: It's No Fun Being Poor

It’s no fun being poor
It’s really quite a bore
It’s not as much fun as some people think
There’s no glamour, there’s no glitz
It’s pretty much the pits
It’s no fun being poor, it kind of stinks
I thought that I could be like Garbo in Camille
But when my tummy’s rumbling it’s all too sadly real
The worry’s made me ill
Can’t afford a doctor bill
It’s no fun being poor and that’s for sure!

It’s no fun being poor
No money for the grocery store
I’ve had Top Ramen three nights in a row
Can’t stand KM&C
Guess it’s beans and rice for me
It’s no fun being poor and I should know
Not going out to restaurants is what I find the hardest
I don’t think I was cut out for the life of a starving artis
tBefore I give up the ghost
I’ll have mayonnaise on toast
It’s no fun being poor and that’s for sure

It’s no fun being poor
The landlord’s at the door
Saying he’ll kick me out on my caboose
He says that he’ll evict me
But no jury would convict me
For spending my last few bucks getting juiced.
Mother Theresa may have taken a vow of poverty
It made her loved by millions but it won’t make a saint out of me
Being poor’s no joke
Bumming your last smoke
It’s no fun bring poor and that’s for sure!

Well Jim I didn't bring you anything for your birthday, but I'm trying to build a fire on the first cold day here in Berkeley and drinking Spanish wine and I wish you were here with us playing your guitar. Here's to 50 more.