This Old Guitar

Poems

Standing-Still-Sun
Bumpa Greenthumbs
Life's Cycle
Groundhog Day Slaughter
The Death of an Old Housefly
Homeless Prayer
The Best Things in Life Are Found


Standing-Still-Sun
(Solstice: Dec. 21/01)

In ancient times, in ancient minds
They kept the watch from towers high.
Upon the floor the sky signs lay
To trace the path of the light by day
A moving blade of illumination
Was observed by magi in anticipation.

The time of the Mystics,
The time of the Magicks,
The time when the sun stands still.

Where the Danu of the North Isles fair,
Before the Druids, and before the Celts,
In half buried remainders of old stone chambers
A shaft of light appears that day
And moves unchallenged towards a mark
Where the spiral draws all to a point.

The time of the Mystics,
The time of the Magicks,
The time when the sun stands still.
   
In North and South the vigil's kept,
the fires lit, the rituals met,
The offerings laid upon the stones
And all stand waiting, by hearth 'n homes.
Will there come the lengthening days
Or darkness swallow the sun's rays.

The time of the Mystics,
The time of the Magicks,
The time when the sun stands still.

It is upon us, the time has come
when time exists not at all.
The point of light has come to rest
On an infinite space unseen
Between two points that now are one.
A point where life joins death
A point where East meets West
Where black is white and day is night,
Where good and evil cease upheaval
All that is, was and ever shall be
Is yours to become if you could but see.

The time of the Mystics,
The time of the Magicks,
The time when the sun stands still.
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Bumpa Greenthumbs

Between the cukes and tomatos,
Beneath the rows of gladiolas,
Up and down the earthen furrows,
Who is it that makes this grow?

In his garden on the hill.
A little way above the road.
Working off the morning chill
Until the sun is overhead;
Pulls the weeds and hoes the soil,
Brings water up from down below.
I can see him in his lawn chair
Resting under the old willow.

I’ve a photo on my table,
Taken not too long ago,
With his flowers and his vegetables.
And from his hands
He made this grow.
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Life's Cycle

Three drops of water came from the sky,
Two fall together, one falls nearby,
Each takes its path down the mountainside.

Gathering dust, brown and grey
Of trees and bees and ancient stones
As gifts to share along the way.

Two drops soon, side by side,
A little trickle they become
Happy in their joyful ride.

In due time their paths do meet
Another drop so pure and sweet
And Nature weds them to her cause.

 To brook, to stream, to speeding current,
Together they leap over waterfalls
And carve the rock to gorges deep.

In valleys fertile you carry seeds
To make them lush and forests green.
Such is the essence of your being.

To winding river on the plain
By birds and beasts and grasses tall,
And peace together for one for all.

The journey’s end is coming near
The breaking surf you can hear
Back to the sea where it all begins.
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Groundhog Day Slaughter

So you wanted to know a lil bout G Hog Day, eh? Well it's not as lucrative as to drive the economy like Xmas, Valentines Day, Halloween, but it ranks somewhere way down with Lunar New Year. hahaa Here's some info:

*NB For those who are not familiar with this old folk lore, every year on Feb. 2nd, the groundhog is observed coming out of his hole at high noon to see if it can see it's shadow, or not, to determine if it will be a long or short winter. If it sees it's shadow it means that there will be at least 8 more weeks of winter! If not, then spring will come within 6 weeks! That's what they say. Quite frankly these days, I put my money on the appearance of the geese returning to the north! I mean what if the groundhog didn't come out on the 2nd, like it didn't want to, overslept, died! And even more relevant, how does it account for global warming? Well one way or another, it has become a crucial factor in the local tourist economy bring badly needed jobs to the now poor rural areas at this time of year, and as usual, there's nothing more satisfying than milking those city slickers again! At one time it was considered an accurate factor in making farming decisions, and in fact the theory was pretty damn accurate. But nowadays it is a big media event, surpassing the Annual Polar Bear Swim! If only they could ensure that the groundhog would co-operate. Simple, read the following:

Wiarton Willy - Wiarton, Ontario, Canada
Punxtatawney Phil - Pennsylvania, USA

The boomers in their beemers come from miles around.
The pilgrimage to this site, their fortune to be found.
With cells in ears, these laptop jokers
Keep in touch with their stockbrokers,
In L.L. Beans and hats from Tilly's.
The locals think they look damn silly,
To seek the wisdom of Wiarton Willy.

Big black mercs are filled with jerks, further south in Pennsylvania.
They filed a claim they were first with this similar critter mania.
They've complained most bitterly to the WTO.
Unfair is the weather where it's 40 below.
It gives the advantage of advanced knowledge
And tilts the profits away from their college!
To Punxtatawney Phil this is cultural pillage!

Quietly, below the ground,
Peacefully sleeping, safe and sound,
Phil and Willy dream away
Completely oblivious of the day.
And all the folks and paparazzi gather
And off the truck comes the ground tamper!

But known to none that fateful day,
Some bears nearby had chosen to lay
And spend their winter in solitude,
And not expecting an awakening rude!
Most certainly not to such a crowd
So arrogant and selfish and insultingly loud!

"Pop the cork!" The town Mayor did say.
"Christen the tamper with cheap beaujolais!"
"A swig all round!" said a wino there.
No one heard him and none who would care.
The church clock rang noon
"Pull the cord you buffoon!"

With a sputter and a thump that made the thing jump
It nearly got away til it ran into a stump,
They dragged it back again
Over the top of it's den
But it killed the poor hog
That had slept like a log!
 They thumped and they thumped wondering what was the matter.
By now they were drunk and mad as a hatter!
To their shock and surprise
Standing before their eyes
A mother of a beast
To make them a feast!

It ranted and roared like a true nature's pet.
And lumbered and swiped at as many as it could get.
The scene it was gruesome
There was none who could lose him,
Except for the winehead
Whom it thought he was dead!

All was still as the bear went back to bed,
The tamper tamped off and the groundhog was dead.
But faintly the sound of cell phones and pooters
Like an orchestra gone mad without a conductor.
Their brokers were freaking and all in a panic
The market was stalled and the WTO was frantic!

When the poor sod came to, he didn't know what to do!
The place was a mess like feeding time at the zoo!
"I must be delerious,
This plonk is injurious,
I think I've had enough."
And swore off the stuff!

He tried a cell phone to call up his business,
And then call the Missus and beg her forgiveness,
But the batteries had died
And the stock market fried
And the sod lost his job
He fell in with the mob!
 
So there you have it, The Groundhog Day Slaughter!
And legislation was passed to change it to otters,
Or maybe to beavers, or possibly eagles,
Or maybe to rabitts, or maybe to beagles,
Now it's tied up in squabbles at the UN, I think,
But no longer groudhogs because they're extinct!

HAPPY GROUNDHOG DAY!!! >}-)
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The Death of an Old Housefly

A small event on the eve of a celebration

Last night I was writing to my friends in far places.
We were celebrating a victory of the Apocalypse invasion.
From the corner of my eye I was aware of a movement,
But I'm used to the flights of our moths in the night.
For some reason I couldn't ignore this presence,
And continued anyway to finish my story.
The next thing I knew there was a large fly on my screen
I thought it wanted to play with my cursor,
So I played cat and mouse for a minute or two
But it seemed to get tired and stood quite still.
A thought occurred to me that the screen was a place
Of magnetic forces and deadly rays.
I thought that was why it was too tired to move
That it couldn't escape from the pull of the screen.
So I moved it away and it flew to the desk
And paused there a moment to catch it's breath.
It flew once again to the monitor screen
And one more time I shooed it away again.
This time it landed to play with my keys,
To help me to write and talk to my friends.
It soon tired of that and went back to the desk
And I continued on my own to finish my piece.
The next thing I new it was on it's back
Moving it's wings rapidly to get right side up.
I was alarmed 'cause I knew that the housefly was sick.
It was not just to play, that it I thought it was saying,
But that it wanted a friend, when it came to it's end.
It was on it's back in the glare of my lamp,
So I placed it softly in the shade of some books.
I finished my letter to the Apocalypse Gang,

"It was their greatest moment of glory,
their greatest celbration of freedom,
the flames amongst a dying society,
a sign to the cosomos
that intelligent life
still survives
on this island in deep space!"

And when I was done I looked at the fly,
It was no longer moving and had probably died.
So I shut down the computer and turned out the light.
I was lying in bed and before going to sleep
The spirit of the fly filled the whole of the room,
I bid it farewell and to the cosmos it returned.
In the morning I got up and took it's remains
And placed it outside under a plant I had there...
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Homeless Prayer

I used to go to church each week
And pay for last week's doubtful deeds
And beg that I might do Christ's work
But things just seem to interfere.

No sooner did I leave the place
Then once again I felt unblessed
When looking for a parking space
Some asshole cuts in front of me.

What's the point of buying Christ's peace
When the money can be better spent
On a Hummer armed to the teeth
And a pair of pit bulls in the back.

I never used to be a jerk
But things got to me at work
And the only time I bought some peace
Was happy hour at the Shredded Fleece.		 I left my wife and crazy kids
But her friends say that she left me
And tell me that I've hit the skids
But I just don't see it that way.

Hey! Why the Hell am I telling you?
But man you're all the friends I got.
I'm grateful for your buck or two,
Please tell a friend if they pass this way.

One crazy cold and bitter night
My antifreeze had all dried up
And all I saw was one small light
One small light, one small light.

Now I lay me on the street
Cold and wet and pray for sleep
And if I don't wake up again
See my stuff goes to a friend
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The Best Things in Life Are Found or This Old Guitar

There is a place
where street meets walk
a piece of metal
caught my eye.
Whereupon
a man did talk
about an address
he couldn't find.

Now at this place
Where street meets walk
A piece of metal
Caught his eye.
A copper penny
He did find
And gave it to me
Then said goodbye.

Behind my building
Down by the bins.
I watched a  man
Lay something down.
An old guitar
Lay in two.
"Did he mind"
I asked of him.
    		 "You're most welcome"
He replied.
"A coffee table
I did try
But never finished
So here it lies."
Cracked and scratched
And bridge askew.

With 3 strings missing
And 2 pegs too.
With nothing more
Than care and glue
And chopstick pegs
From old bamboo
All came together
And perfect too.

The best things
In life are free.
That was always
Said to me
And to which I do agree
But in the time
I've been around
To me the best things
In life are found.
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