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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IMAGINESSENCE

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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

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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
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?

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Shades of Junk

Junk in school
Junk on the street
Junk is lurking
every place
that people meet
There’s nowhere safe
Can you stand the heat?
Best be cool
and fast on your feet
Junk that cheats
and is hard to beat

Junk piling up
in every place
Landfills full
of fetid waste
A natural habitat
for the human race?
Cockroaches and rats
are where junk’s at
Junk is ‘it’
in cyberspace
Junk all across
the internet
Breadcrumbing junk
Catfishing a flunk
junk that’s funk
gone kaput
and goes kerplunk
What the junk

The relic
from a Junk museum
drunk on junk
upon a rickety podium
giving it a tweet
talking the junk
Hellbent and spiked
like a Cosbied drink
The pulpit subterranean
molten junk is flowing
Junk out of sight
Junk micturating
from a great height
upon the shuffling throng
where junk makes right
Junk opinions
everybody’s got one
Junk in fashion
worn with style and grace
Junk just happens
Junk’s in your face

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The Persistence

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“I saw the best minds of my generation
destroyed by madness, starving hysterical
naked, dragging themselves through
the negro streets at dawn
looking for an angry fix.” ~ Allen Ginsberg

The Persistence

The gleaning
seeking fallen fruit
after the harvesting
Neither sowing small
nor reaping big
The art
of just surviving
Street wise
to disguise
the festering fever
of hidden trauma
Is this life a test?
A trial by fire?

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