We're all on a road to somewhere.
Like a Rising Stone
~ a voyage of homage
A time for Life
To seek
To be found
To feel
To be touched
To hear truth
How sweet the sound
To taste goodness
Goodness to be tasted
To love
To be loved
Without the Divine
life and time
truly wasted
Continue reading “Like a Rising Stone”
Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie
(edited) ~ by Bob Dylan
When yer head gets twisted
and yer mind grows numb
When you think you’re too old,
too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin’ behind
an’ losin’ yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl
of life’s busy race
No matter what yer doing
if you start givin’ up
If the wine don’t come
to the top of yer cup
If the wind’s got you sideways
with one hand holdin’ on
And the other starts slipping
and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire
needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood’s easy findin’
but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts curlin’
and the street gets too long
And you start walkin’ backwards
though you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up
as down goes the day
And tomorrow’s mornin’
seems so far away
‘Angelica saved by Ruggiero’
~ by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres
Upon a Dragon’s Breath
(and the Persistence of Grace)
This existence
an enigma
wrapped in a shroud
of destruction
Death and life
trouble and strife
Humanity battered
Reflections
from a mirror shattered
A toxic cloud
in mass production
The suffocation
the slow seduction
Life and death
riding the trail
of a dragon’s breath
Yes, don’t mess
with the Missionary Man
The best he can
he’s getting on
oven cooking
with that missionary plan
Can you measure
a bird of flight
by the weight
of a single feather ?
Can you look
into the face of a child
and not see
the deepest treasure ?
A time of purpose
beyond worldly surplus
the yet to be
hero of great valour
More precious
than gold or silver
that wide eyed innocence
The loving potential
of the truly essential
… Imaginessence
The Seamstress
in a state of distress
Her beautiful dress
delivered all disheveled
to the wrong person
at the wrong address
. . . and the Glam Rock
A child playing
with wildfire rebellion
The tailor who fits you up
swiftly twisting
sweet venom on the tongue
with chemical smoke rising
In the ghetto of the soul
a toxic river flowing
Body and spirit
within the echo of a scream
a tangled web
of a deceptive dream
For heaven’s sake
sleepwalkers awake
Is it ever too late
to make a break?
Who’s pulling the strings?
Can you hear the truth
when the Elvis of God sings?
