#songsmith

I have broken bread

In a place, unseen

Between where one might find the dead

And our hills of green

A place that most would not believe

For no one there grows old

And still, I took my leave

Before my time was told

Many maps I scour

Many visions held

Well into the witching hour

Many sea I sailed

And still that isle I cannot find

Though I was there before

Or was it in my mind?

For I cannot find it's shore

From the day I was born

And through all of my years

To this one thing I’s sworn

At which I might fail, I fear

.

This one thing is song

Heard in inner ear

That’s come through so strong

And whose penning I feel near

.

Through a love I was drawn

Through a feeling in my chest

Through this thing I’ll live on

Oh, much longer than the rest 

.

And the trials I have faced

I can hardly describe

I’ve no home or no place

Though I’m nearing forty-five

.

But with pain art is laced

So with pain I do lie

And this life I embrace

Though I doubt I do survive

.

Through a love I was drawn

Through a feeling in my chest

Through this thing I’ll live on

Oh, much longer than the rest

.

So when I am gone

If it is I pass the test

They’ll be singing my song

Come with me

Down into this place where it’s dark and deep

Where the things that compose your life in my music steep

And I’ll write you a song that will keep your interest piqued

Good and long and beyond any real critique

.

Hey, don’t stall!

If you’ll listen close you’ll hear something cosmic call

Fling yourself pell-mell into it all

And so oft your plans to the side will quickly fall

Where to make it through does require some wherewithal 

.

Ain’t trying to save face

I’m praying we get out alive

And at worst, just stay in place

I’ll come get you if I survive

.

Lo & behold!

Life moves in the strangest ways, you know?

Things’ll get weird sometimes as they unfold

And it’s hard to know or predict how things will go

And at worst, my friend, you can leave and hit the road

.

Listen close!

To all the words I say but these next the most

It ain’t like I’m trying to brag or like I’m trying to boast

But the things you feel don’t beat you like a whipping post

And the things you feel on some level, you know, you chose

.

Ain’t trying to save face

I’m praying we get out alive

And at worst, just stay in place

I’ll come get you if I survive

.

Hold the door!

I done done what I had to do ain’t got to prove no more

I’ve shown what can be done on a level ain’t been seen before

So well, at times, that it all seems like a bore

I’d rather lies

And maybe some outrage

And be told I’m despised

Or that I’ve wasted my life

Straight from your mouth, babe

.

And prefer what’s cruel

Than nothing from your way

.

Even lies from you

Is better than truth

From anyone else, babe

.

I’d rather disguise

Than the face of another

All hid but eyes

Would more than suffice

To help as I suffer

.

Seldom a sign

But I wait for another

.

I’d rather disguise

All hid but eyes

Than the face of another

.

I’d rather dream

As now I’m inclined to

A world, pristine

Not crude and obscene

As I’ve somehow grown used to

.

Where crudeness seems

Something we trudge through

.

But you inspire in me

Of something more I might dream

Written June 14th Lafayette through Montana and back to Louisiana, August 2022

‘

We’ve travalled for miles

Over mountain and field

‘

Seldom we smile

For it’s still long until

We get to the place

Where for gold we shall till

‘

The wagon wheels creak

The horses do tire

‘

And from puddle do drink

While we’re building our fire

Our spirits to sink

Our wills do expire

‘

For food is low and I doubt we eat tonight

And a man has fallen ill and done gave up the fight

‘

We all say a prayer for this man who lies there

And in the morning take flight

‘

Not one bats an eye while he lays there and dies

Nor feels much contrite

‘

Like buzzards our foes

Are circling our prize

‘

They circle the gold

Our treasure, they eye

The mountains are cold

And there’s much road to ride

‘

Food is low and the bread we have has mold

Our dying man lies still on filthy bedroll

‘

Some say a prayer for the man who lies there

And then away we do go

‘

Then we don’t bat an eye as he lays there and dies

On the side of the road

Written September 3rd to 17th in Baton Rouge and Lafayette

‘

Saddled with a burden 

I never asked for

My faith at times seemed small

‘

But thinking through my options

I couldn’t see much

That appealed to me at all

‘

I struggle to recall

Last time I held hands

With a girl I really cared for at all

‘

Which might explain my misery

Or my soft spot for alcohol

‘

Then I saw you there

Reading all alone

With your golden hair

With your glasses on

‘

Tnd the words you shared

From your secret pome

In the evening air

So simple et bonne

‘

Considering the failure

I’ve had to deal with

You’ll excuse my rattling on

‘

Perhaps I’m just too petty

Or unappealing

And display too little brawn

‘

I struggle

 to recall

Last time I held hands

With a girl I really cared for at all

‘

Which might explain my anger

Or my soft spot for alcohol

‘

Then I saw you, babe

With your glasses on

And it seemed ordained

That I had chanced upon

‘

Joy has filled my day

Day is filled with song

I could sing your praise