Soapbox

This is from back in high school too. I didn’t conform even then.

Sometimes there is a part of me
That’s running like a child,
Thumbing my nose at your grown-up world,
Mischevious and wild,
Questioning and seeking,
Moving, never still.
I know you don’t approve of me,
I know you never will.

And sometimes there’s a part of me
That doesn’t want to rush.
I take my time to think things out-
True feelings can’t be rushed-
To think and grow in sunshine Like flowers on the sill.
I know you don’t approve,
I know you never will.

Sometimes there flares within me
A rage I can’t conceal.
Don’t try to tell me how to act,
What I should think and feel!
Glaring in hot defiance
Against your angry chill
And I know you don’t approve,
I know you never will.

Always there is a part of me
That knows I will give in.
You’ll smother me with love and concern
And in the end, you’ll win.
So I’ll hide those other parts of me
And try to be as you will
But you know I don’t approve of me then
And you know I never will.

Recently I have been looking through my old poetry book from high school. Man, some of that stuff is just God-awful! Some was kind of trite but the sentiments seem spot-on, even now. And some is… OK.
I wrote this poem in 1975 or ’76, I think, on a bus ride home from Middletown where I was visiting my friend Lori.

Where are you here from?
Where did you begin?
I’m a child of the mountains
And I get my strength from them.
I breath the peaceful splendor
Of earth and sky and stone-
Yes I’m living in the city
But the mountains are my home.

Who holds you close at night?
Whose love keeps you warm?
I’m the bride of the forest
In sunshine and in storm
When the trees are watching over me
I never am alone-
Now I’m staying in the city
But I’m wishing I was home.

And where will you go
When your time is done?
In the embrace of the ocean
All life will be as one.
The cycle always turning,
From death, new life will grow-
No matter where my feet may be
My heart is going home.

This is a song I sang recently at a fundraiser for progressive radio. Technically I wrote it, but honestly, this sort of thing just writes itself.

~Dedicated to the myth of the liberal media~

Sadaam was behind the 911 terrorists,
Progressive radio is dead,
and George W. Bush is the greatest president
this country has ever had.

So says FOX news, FOX News:
We spew it out- you lap it up.
FOX News, FOX News,
Fair and Balanced, my a**.

Al Qaida can go on and bomb San Francisco,
global warming is a liberal myth.
Gay marriage will break up your happy family
and tax cuts do not help the rich….
…on FOX News, FOX News,
We make it up: you swallow it whole.
FOX News, FOX News:
Fair and balanced, my a**.

There’s a war on Christmas from cut-and-run democrats
who want us to lose in Iraq.
Secular progressives hate babies- and puppies
Support the troops by sending them back! to Iraq!

FOX News, FOX News,
If you tell a lie often enough, it becomes true!
FOX News, FOX News
Fair and balanced, my- well, you get the idea.

Obama is a halfrican, Muslim, terrorist
Pelosi hates the US of A
And since you heard it here, on the TV
You’ll believe every word we say.

on FOX News, FOX News
We dream it up: you pass it on.
FOX News, FOX News:
“Fair and Balanced” my – oh, kiss my a**!

He squints fiercely at the menu,
bright pages of heiroglyphics
for which he has no Rosetta Stone.
And so again and again he must ask,
What does this say?

Fine, I’ll have one of that, please.

He puzzles over the knife and fork-
which water glass is his?
He realizes he is holding the spoon is upside down
and rights it with a smile
as fragile as new ice.

The conversation flows around him,
friends and family
speaking in a language
that he is slowly learning in reverse.

He mostly watches the world now,
pretending he isn’t struggling
to make sense of it,
his pleasant demeanor
masking a fierce resolve
to surrender nothing without a fight.

The children are so gracious,
never stare or seem impatient
as he tries to locate his errant water glass once again.
He does not say how much he loves them
except with the look in his eyes
each time he says goodbye,
hoping he will recall their names
the next time they visit.

The water glass, nearly spilled,
is righted again
and the meal ends with nothing broken
except everyone’s heart.

A lullaby to America from Bill Frist.

In those anxious midnight hours when you’re staring at the ceiling
And your thoughts turn and tumble like a hamster in a wheel.
The world we’ll leave our children when earth and air are poison,
Or the debt they owe before they’re born are not the fears you feel.

It’s not that leaking roof that keeps you up at night,
Or the savings you don’t have, the tuition you can’t afford;
Not the new hip for your mother that insurance will not cover
Or the word that came last week: your neighbor’s son’s been sent to war.

It’s those kids who wait ‘til after school to read the 10 commandments!
And the fellows 2 streets over who’ve been together 20 years
And now they want to go and say that they are married,
And angry kids who burn a flag that are your demon fears.

Don’t lie awake another restless night.
We’ll pass a bill- now go to sleep
Everything will be all Right.