giving way as he aged,

and she grinned

like a solemn old cat,

in the yard, and all that
and the land giving fruit trees,

with little young fruit bees,

so the dog’s been depressed, lately

lately, nothing for playing with
he keeps trying to catch those,

quick little bees he sees

but it keeps getting harder, like that

the world’s getting flat,

or so that’s what Freidman says

and the guitars stop sooner,

not later, these days

and still, somebody heard his tired old vision

one third the money, and still

life is so lovely

not trendy, ostentatious, not pompous

but so soft like a melody,

humming the hummingbirds

asleep with the bees

and the trees,

and the leaves,

with the dreams he sees

as somebody sees his tired old vision.

CHRISHEBDON 09-10-06

sneaking upon the moon, whisteling a tune drops
sweeping with the broom, the sun
until the wind of night stops
come here sweet moon, for a dip, a shower
what shall you do with the moon
once you feel the sundrops in your hand?
isn’t it the epitome of goodness holding power?
i’ll take it and lie it here while i think
sink my toes into the sand, and waiting
holding out one foot to keep the moon from rolling
and showing all the while, my smile to the sun
who, i am sure, has teased the moon for million while
i think i will do what is best to do, for everyone
i will stand and set the sun’s friend back in place
and waiting for another race of words and song
i’ll sneak up on the moon, whisteling a tune drops

in a tent in a valley, above me there a blue jay springs
and the sun lays upon me like it never does
but always seems to when i wake from my outdoor dreams
the alarm clock that i purchased for this place was compliment
i never expected such a beatiful way to wake, by the sundrops
and while honestly the timer is set by the last night’s singing
at least i wake when nature gives me such a shove
into daylight, fish streams, hiking trails and outdoor dreams
a comment to me as early as nature sees fitting
and my compliment to them while the coffee’s percolating, I say;

you remind me of where they used to live
among you, rising, sleeping, screaming
catching what they need to catch
the wage of labor in what they fetch
and once a part, there’s nomore they here
the bluejays don’t remember them, long gone
the fish are all new, and the probably fear us
us children of them have no clue of bluejays
sunshine rays, summer days, winter days
we know the seven-day week, slowly
selling our time away from nature, to work
reading, hammering, negotiating and selling
each of us hoping to fetch enough… something
at least enough to hang us over, and then
we hope and pray to be like them, and wake
with the sunrise, the creek sound, and real ground
to compensate for all the years ungrounded
people dumbfounded by the loss of lives
now buying lifestyles from magazines, trees
and convinced that nature never developed a clock
for waking all of her animals for free

for now, i had just imagined my best friend’s eulogy
it was this crowd shrouded in disbelief
it’s quite a soul to take my god, mind you
he means what the light and night mean to you, oh god
and now you have us standing here beneath a tent
a hole in the ground with an iron wound casket without grace
his soul was beatiful, and like a voice shined springtimes
my god, what have you of it
i shall confess he wanted it to go to you
he desired, so strongly outright, that his soul, the soul
was to be buried near the roots of a tree, in which he would be
one day the last remaining piece of ember
that rests eternally in the back a cello
for yes, all the world, to hear him sing forever
yes and this is the soul you have taken
but oh god, have you paid any attention
he loved you, questioned you, and dreamed
and prayed to you while he was alone, mind you
sweet god he begged you, to exist at least
but you take him for a not worthy reason
imagine what you’ve done, you cowardly moron!
he is to harmony what your son is to man
and you scorn him! and kill him by your man’s hand!
by god, shame on you, twice of be whatsoever
so hear this song, and tell me if he wished not for you!
while he stood in a beatiful garden in mind
and chose to hide behind the sun, while you, mind you
stood baking and drenching in clouds and rain
he waited for you, dear lord, he waited
whistling a tune, sneaking on the moon drops
which only you, without the forethought, appeared
god bless you lord, but that’s all i give you
if you believe you have done what’s right, then be it so
but you will hear him singing
in the heart of a cello, so many ages
as a martyr to your troubles, your insecurities
dear god, if you cannot make this person into the bravest
if you damned him, some long ago, if you damned him
then damned be you, you son of a bitch
you’re a fine imposter, but a devil in mine eyes
come on, make the world happy
let this man play music, and we all live
god damn you, be a benevolent giver, if your give
give a song to each child that came from him
but for your own sake, my good lord
please, i pray to you, please let him live