‘Street Courage’
I first saw him standing on a street corner
opposite the coffee shop
I heard him singing words I’d heard before
that made me stop
In my tracks and the hairs on my neck stood up
‘Little boxes made out of ticky tacky’
that’s what I need to hear
Dropped a shilling in his cup
wished I could a’ bought him a beer
A cup of cheer for the singer on the corner
on a cold day in Boston town
On a new years day with virus all around
a virus that’s brought the people down
..
So I bought some coffees
to take down to the park
Past the corner where he stood
before it gets too dark
The singer he was tuneful, played his guitar so well
A songbird in Boston singing songs
I hadn’t heard for years
These songs made perfect sense to me
songs to dispel your fears
So I spoke to the street singer
took his picture there and then
Said If I wrote some verses out
did he have a card where I could send?
..
Street singer plying his trade in all weathers
singing for coin out in the cold
On a damp winters day, the street singer
had something bright to say
Singing songs of life and meaning out in this circus
Of life and liberty that’s falling down
around our ankles around our knees
While we wrestle and we worry
over this goddamn disease
Just a moment Master Pessimist the candlemakers son
light a candle on the street
For this troubadour with a wood guitar
is still standing on his feet!
..
a bit of a ditty for my mate Josh Robins
edenbraytoday
EPIPHANY with CARL JUNG and A MERE RABBIT!
Epiphany with Carl Jung and a mere Rabbit
… … …
I sat beside that old and weary cherry tree
Gnarled and leaning like a drunken man
Put my sorry life into some sort of perspective
There is no gain in self condemnation only revival
.
I have rubbed my hands in the course dirt so long
I had learned to sense flowers buried in the shit
The crap, where horses do leap and look poetic
Like a women’s breast is charming, her skin so soft
.
I walked for miles without learning much at all
The only thing we learn is the best way to stay silent
I catch myself sometimes when I’m saying too much
The goddam illusion is broken and the rabbits out
.
I have to say things though just to stay alive
Otherwise might as well be dead in the dust
Cain’t all be Carl Jung, I know, I do pick on that fellar
And he does have a contented look, like pink salt
.
Therapy, if I could even afford it might be the answer
Or maybe just to get down on my sore, sorry knees
Say a prayer to God, whoever he or she may be
Wonder what he’d say about that? – Carl Jung!
.
edenbraytoday20.02.2021
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