…and so it goes…

There She Goes, My Beautiful World

There She Goes, My Beautiful World




The wintergreen, the juniper
The cornflower and the chicory
All the words you said to me
Still vibrating in the air
The elm, the ash and the linden tree
The dark and deep, enchanted sea
The trembling moon and the stars unfurled
There she goes, my beautiful world

There she goes, my beautiful world
There she goes, my beautiful world
There she goes, my beautiful world
There she goes again

John Wilmot penned his poetry riddled with the pox
Nabakov wrote on index cards at a lectern, in his socks
St. John of the Cross did his best stuff imprisoned in a box
And Johnny Thunders was half alive when he wrote Chinese Rocks

Well, me, I’m lying here with nothing in my ears
Me, I’m lying here with nothing in my ears
Me, I’m lying here for what seems years
I’m just lying on my bed with nothing in my head

Send that stuff on down to me
Send that stuff on down to me
Send that stuff on down to me
Send that stuff on down to me

There she goes, my beautiful world
There she goes, my beautiful world
There she goes, my beautiful world
There she goes again

Karl Marx squeezed his carbuncles while writing Das Kapital
And Gaugin, he buggered off, man, and went all tropical
While Philip Larkin stuck it out in a library in Hull
And Dylan Thomas died drunk in St. Vincent’s hospital

I will kneel at your feet
I will lie at your door
I will rock you to sleep
I will roll on the floor
And I’ll ask for nothing
Nothing in this life
I’ll ask for nothing
Give me everlasting life

I just want to move the world
I just want to move the world
I just want to move the world
I just want to move

There she goes, my beautiful world
There she goes, my beautiful world
There she goes, my beautiful world
There she goes again

So if you got a trumpet, get on your feet, brother, and blow it
If you’ve got a field that don’t yield, well, get up and hoe it
I look at you and you look at me and deep in our hearts know it
That you weren’t much of a muse, but then I weren’t much of a poet

I will be your slave
I will peel you grapes
Up on your pedestal
With your ivory and apes
With your book of ideas
With your alchemy
Oh, come on
Send that stuff on down to me

Send that stuff on down to me
Send that stuff on down to me
Send that stuff on down to me
Send that stuff on down to me
Send it all around the world
‘Cause here she comes, my beautiful girl

There she goes, my beautiful world
There she goes, my beautiful world
There she goes, my beautiful world
There she goes again

….. from the mobius journals…..

The War Machine

LIFE IS CHEAP

LIFE IS CHEAP

The fuel tanks are empty
need more lives
the price is high
to create wealth
for the privileged few

roll on up to the pump
the politician attendant is ready
to stick the hose into the emptiness
of the war machine to pour gallons of lives
that it may roll on roll on roll on

the war machine
feeds on lost lives
cutting down life
for greed and death never say, “Enough!”
they only say, “more bodies for the machine”

The war machine knows
knows what it needs to survive
it elicits feelings of pride, patriotism and honor
where there is none

The machine knows that propaganda
will bring volunteers to die
more efficiently and will reduce
recruitment costs

“Fight fight fight
they are wrong
we are right
you are part of ‘WE’
join now!
for the sacrifice”

Even religion supports the war machine
Gods punishment on those who are not like us
the religious fervor of “God is on our side”
stop abortion, we need more lives for the machine

When there are no more human lives
the war machine will stop
unable to run it will rust to pieces
chunks, hunks & clumps of cold empty metal
returning to its elemental source
ashes to ashes, dust to dust
a reprieve on the planet
a reprieve on the life that remains

Who is left to bury the dead?
will Antigone not rise up again
to do what is right?
bodies lie in the open sun
their weapons for tombstones by their side

Bearded Music?

Okay what is this all about.   I’ve noticed lately that more and more music guys are sportin’ beards.  The music is fun, thoughtful, provocative and inspiring. From shadow to fuzz, funky to fluffy and barely to bushy, many musicians in the history of pop music have sported beards. It’s nice to see and hear that the tradition will continue. 🙂 There are way to many to mention or show but here are a few of my bearded favorites. Enjoy.

Say “hello” to LARRY AND HIS FLASK (from somewhere in central Oregon, USA)

Another personal favorite, BEARS DEN (from London, England)

A new find for me, HUNTER AND THE BEAR (from the UK – Scotland and England)

An old favorite, IRON AND WINE (a.k.a. Sam Beam of Durham, North Carolina)

The critically acclaimed, BON IVER (from Wisconsin, USA)

Best Cat Stevens impersonator, PASSENGER (from Sussex, England)

So much fun… FRANK TURNER (from Hampshire, England)

Jammin’…. JOHN BUTLER TRIO (from Australia)

And ending with another personal uber fave. The spirited optimism of MICHAEL FRANTI (from California, USA)

…….what I am, what I once was……..

Youth chases after and follows its bliss
The aged remain and rest in their bliss
and neither can tell you where it may be found

Youth is controlled by passion
The aged controls their passion

Youth rushes foolishly head-long to learn
what the aged already know, and have taken years to learn

The error of youth judges the aged
The error of the aged criticizes the youth
And neither respects the other

The aged were once youthful
As the youthful will one day be aged
Neither should be rushed.

IT’S NOT TOO LATE