Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie

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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

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The Elvis of God

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. . . 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
Into 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 the big break?
Who’s pulling the strings?
Can you hear the truth
when the Elvis of God sings?

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To Him They Belong

Down to sleep
their souls to keep
Vulnerable
innocent and meek
Shaken into shock
by grim trauma
that seeps
from a broken gutter
Somewhere below life’s glitter
as mothers weep
innocence shattered
beyond all hope
Watch out now
Take care
Beware
Given enough rope
all things dark and fearful
… into the deep

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Like a Rising Stone

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Like a Rising Stone
~ a voyage of homage

A time for Life,
to seek, to be found.
To feel, and to be touched.
To hear truth.
How sweet the sound.
To taste goodness.
Goodness to be tasted.
To love, and to be loved.
Without the Divine,
the time of your life
. . . truly wasted

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Werewolf Déluge

“Just keep on walking!”

I saw a werewolf

with a hymn book in his hand

prowling around

as he sniffed the ground

from Jonestown to Gaza

He’s that well manicured gent

some say he is heaven sent

I’d like to meet his tailor

You can hear him howling

on your television set

Better not turn it on

Little old lady got bitten

late last night

Werewolves of Religion again

. . . Ooh Ahh

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Empathogenesis

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Bursting out
from the Hotel Eden
a thunderous explosion.
The trembling earth
cracked wide open
as from the firery breath
of a vengeful dragon.
Smoke swirling around
angry flames of hot venom.
Shattered glass descending
like vicious rain
over everything broken.
The dead and the dying
a shrine to destruction.
Upon the bloodied lips
of dazed confusion
a burning question …
“How could a loving God
allow this to happen?”

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