Category Archives: Lyrics

Greensleeves ~ What Child is This?

Yeah…. Justin is the first one to comment about my new music!

Just for the record, this is an old melody, maybe goes back to medieval times, the name, “Greensleeves” The lyrics are here.

Then somebody wrote a beautifully written Christmas Carol, set it to this music, and called it, “What Child is This?”
The lyrics are here.

Oh wow… forgot to mention that this is one of my most favorites to play on the guitar…. I can go on and on with it. It’s when I get into those zones that my creativity comes out.

I Could Not Ask For More

I Could Not Ask For More
by Edwin McCain

Lying here with you
Listening to the rain
Smiling just to see the smile upon your face
These are the moments I thank God that I’m alive
These are the moments I’ll remember all my life
I found all I’ve waited for
And I could not ask for more
Looking in your eyes
Seeing all I need
Everything you are is everything to me
These are the moments
I know heaven must exist
These are the moments I know all I need is this
I have all I’ve waited for
And I could not ask for more

I could not ask for more than this time together
I could not ask for more than this time with you
Every prayer has been answered
Every dream I have’s come true
And right here in this moment is right where I’m meant to be
Here with you here with me

These are the moments I thank God that I’m alive
These are the moments I’ll remember all my life
I’ve got all I’ve waited for
And I could not ask for more

I could not ask for more than the love you give me ‘Coz it’s all I’ve waited for
And I could not ask for more
I could not ask for more

When I read lyrics like these, I think about more than my love for The Drake. I cannot help thinking that I’ve finally found my lifemate, the man I have waited for.  Just as our bond is a strong one and growing every day, I cannot deny just how fragile it all really is. I can’t help slipping out of the present and into the future, a possible future without him. I know, Sometimes I am so morbid and I could justifiably be chastised for imagining a time without him, because of what it would mean to have happened.  I know people who have been left alone in the world and with added responsibility of a family to care for alone.  I can’t voice it, but there is something inside me that has always been so macabre. It’s part of my Dark Side, part of my life; and as such, I must live with it and try to keep it at bay as I ride the tides that well up without warning. Maybe in order to be well grounded, we must have intimate [working] knowledge of all aspects of life, I really don’t know.  I went to counseling at one time and she theorized that it might be a survival mechanism. Uninvited, I imagine certain scenarios, then picture in my mind what I would do in those situations. I have to admit that I do “try out” different responses in my mind, but it’s all very frightening while it’s happening.

Sometimes they are wake up calls as to how to protect Little D or what to keep him away from, or a reminder to know where he is at all times… because of “what can happen”. Again, all very frightening and very real while I am in the throws of it. Before I sought to limit my experiences, they would hold me fast and I would actually live out (or it felt as such) what was going on in my head. Maybe as a survival thing, I discovered that I could pull myself out of it and now it’s a matter of being aware of what is happening and knowing that if I can’t handle the emotions, I could cut it off. It can be very frightening and draining, emotionally and physically. At first, I thought that I was crazy and I’ve always been an anxious worrier; but this counselor gave me a handle of what it might be and the more I think of it, the more I think she is right.

I hope I don’t sound crazy to you guys, but these thoughts came out even though I intended on writing about something else, so maybe it’s important for me to let it stay. I’ve always been that way. Once I write down my thoughts, I have a sense that they should stay because they are my first, deepest thoughts, and take my lumps if warranted. It’s a part of me, and as such, contributes to whatever you find appealing about my writing. And so, keeping the above intact, I will continue….

This song expresses everything I feel for the Drake. I feel that I could not have asked for more, let alone receive such a man. I’ve waited a long time…. I know that must sound like an old record, but it’s been the running theme my whole life. Yet, whatever happens I will be forever grateful. Whatever happens I’ll always treasure our life together, however long, or however brief. I am also reminded of “The Heart Will Go On”, by Celine Dion, the theme from The Titanic. Now, THAT was a love story for the ages if there ever was one.

Heart, mind and soul
are forever changed
because of you, my Eddie.
You will go on in my heart
no matter the future.
I love you.

I Made It Through The Rain


I Made It Through The Rain
by Barry Manilow

We dreamers have our ways
Of facing rainy days
And somehow we survive

We keep the feelings warm
Protect them from the storm
Until our time arrives

Then one day the sun appears
And we come shining through those lonely years

I made it through the rain
I kept my world protected
I made it through the rain
I kept my point of view
I made it through the rain
And found myself respected
By the others who
Got rained on too
And made it through

When friends are hard to find
And life seems so unkind
Sometimes you feel so afraid

Just aim beyond the clouds
And rise above the crowds
And start your own parade

Cause when I chased my fears away
That’s when I knew that I could finally say


First, I am pissed because I had to copy and paste this post from BlogDesk. Still waiting for someone to get back to me regarding this issue I am having. Grrrrrr!Okay, let’s get on with it….

Ah, Barry always speaks to ME. If you know this song, you can hear the loneliness in the music and his voice; but then, you can also hear when he comes out of it.

Music and my art always got me through the rough spots in my early years, especially Barry Manilow. His music, his voice, touches the very heart and soul of me. His OWN music, not really the other music he does… plus, I am speaking from the 70’s and 80’s. He speaks to love, and love speaks to him, through him to the world. I thought that if Barry could get through the rain, I certainly could. Critics might think his music predictable, starting at a low point, then building up to, finally, a magnificent climax; but that is exactly what I love about his music.

I’ve always been an artist, though at present, I have not drawn anything at all. I can remember at a very early age, maybe 4-5, I drew a dinosaur, a stegosaurus, to be precise. Heck, nobody believed that I did it. Then I drew that head of a fawn that was an art test from the TV guide, you may remember it. Again, everyone thought I TRACED it, despite the fact that it was done on a heavy brown paper bag.. and was bigger…. geez. I always drew animals. I loved doing horses… beautiful and magnificent…. well, my young mind thought so.

Whenever I was working on something, I went into a trance-like state, not looking up until I was done. I believe that I was Spirit-driven… it had to be. I could feel myself getting drawn into the object I was working on, becoming a part of it, almost. I worked from either still life, or a picture and probably could have gotten into restoration, but did not have the self confidence to pursue anything back then. I did briefly attend night school, “Art in Advertising”, but I soon discovered that field was way to competitive for me. Also, in taking the classes, I felt that I was not creative enough for advertising. I am actually glad that I dropped out of that because I believe that my talent is a gift from God, and as such, is meant to be shared and not paid for. I am sure of that. I get so much joy from making gifts out of my artwork, crafts, knitting, whatever, that I could never ask for money. I’ve found that I have many creative outlets; so the fact that I seem to have lost my talent for drawing is not so bad because I know that it shows up in many other areas.

Color me Diversified!

I Can Feel How Much You Love Me

by: Lonestar

Every time our eyes meet
This feeling inside me
Is almost more than I can take
Baby when you touch me
I can feel how much you love me
And it just blows me away
I’ve never been this close to anyone or anything
I can hear your thoughts
I can see your dreams

I don’t know how you do what you do
I’m so in love with you
It just keeps getting better
I want to spend the rest of my life
With you by my side
Forever and ever
Every little thing that you do
Baby, I’m amazed by you

The smell of your skin
The taste of your kiss
The way you whisper in the dark
Your hair all around me
Baby you surround me
You touch every place in my heart
Oh, it feels like the first time, every time
I want to spend the whole night in your eyes

Every little thing that you do
I’m so in love with you
It just keeps getting better
I want to spend the rest of my life
With you by my side
Forever and ever
Every little thing that you do
Baby, I’m amazed by you


Heard this on the radio today and………….. remembered.

I remembered how love feels. People too often get caught up in the rigidity of every day life. Our schedules get in the way of spontaneity, thought and feeling the feelings and some thing inside always suffers. Life as a couple may not notice right away as both people might be blind to it; but eventually, somebody notices and slight manifestations of negativity start to occur. The little idiosyncrasies that we find endearing start to bug us.

A lot of what brings people together is taken for granted over time in the sense that we have a “knowing”, but deep feelings are not allowed in every minute of every day. What is happening is that they are skipping over the very reasons that brought the couple together in the first place.

Just because we “know” why we are together does not mean that we should tuck it safely away into storage. We must keep those reasons in the forefront of our thoughts and keep them pliant in our minds. We must always be ready to take the time to express our love, even if it’s in little snippets during the time you are together. A slight touch on exposed skin, a long meaningful look goes a long, long way. The eyes are the windows to the soul. Look long and deep (if allowed) into your love’s eyes. What you will find there is no less than amazing. Eyes that address and acknowledge you every day are transformed into the twinkling, beautiful essence of why we love…. and they go deep.

There IS a certain amount of security that comes with “knowing” we love and are loved. It makes every day life so much easier, and difficult times easier to weather. However, when the feeling part is missing, our relationships become one dimensional, like cut-outs of Barbie and Ken. Stand them up. Put the clothes on them. Take the clothes off. Put the clothes back on. Take them back off again. Period. They can’t even have sex…. oops I said it. Notice how I said it, “They can’t even have sex.” Add a bit of “feeling” and that can be said, “I can’t wait to make wonderful, beautiful love with you.”


With feeling, every day monotony transforms into colorful fantasy. With feeling, comes spontaneity and playfulness. You can be level headed one minute, and throw your lover on the bed the next second. Where did that come from?

Look inside.

Head Down, Chin Up!

I will now take you into the realm sacred to women, though invokes a horrible fear. This is the place where no man may enter; no man may look upon…… EVER!!!

Women in general go through so much to make ourselves “presentable”. Most of us wear makeup, perfume, accessorize; but we do more than that. READ ON AT YOUR OWN RISK! We shave our armpits and some shave their whole bodies. Why does this society shun hair on the female body, yet, it’s okay for men to be hairy apes, back and all? Why must our preteen girls feel embarrassed into shaving their legs so young because they don’t want the other GIRLS to see them in gym class?

I bring this up because there is a stigma attached to female body and facial hair. Is it that if a woman doesn’t get rid of it, somehow people assume that she does not practice good hygiene? I used to work with an Italian girl who shaves every bit of body hair that dared to grow on her person, and I mean everywhere… for her husband. I will not judge her or say anything about her practice, but why is it that if she didn’t, she would comment about how she had “missed” doing it in the morning like it was such a big deal and a terrible oversight? What little she had could hardly be seen by anyone in the office.

You may be asking yourself, “Why is she writing about this?” I chose to make a big deal about this to emphasize what I deem a social injustice. I, myself have a severe situation of facial and body hair hanging out on my very person. I was born with it, it’s in the genes. Yes, I am saying that. And YES, it’s in the genes. I am of Mediterranean decent and it’s prevalent (and sometimes runs rampant) in people of my ethnic background, which is Italian.

I’ve always had very dark hair against very light skin, VERY visible. My mother and my sister had the same thing, but they had much darker skin than I. My mother taught us to use bleach, but I had hair on my chin and neck and the bleach stuff just didn’t stay put long enough to be effective, plus more often than not, I burned myself with it, producing even more noticeable burns that stung for days and I had to walk around with burn marks on my face. I tried depilatories but they burn, too. Oh, and you can forget about waxing! I said, “Later for that!” Finally desperate, I took my dad’s razor and shaved my face as well as my legs and underarms. My mom found out and almost killed me, figuratively, because doing that will “make it grow back faster and denser.” I can tell you that is a TRUE statement, but it was my easy way out.

I was stigmatized and ashamed to be seen, yet, I hated all this extra stuff I needed to do to be “acceptable” for the rest of the human race. All the girls and women I know are preoccupied with the removal their hair, if they have any extra. No matter how often I shaved, I could never really get rid of the stubble and sometimes I cut myself… and well, you guys know that story. Even though I have male hair, my skin is female and too sensitive to tolerate daily shaving, so I must make sure that I time my “shaves” to coincide with any events that may be going on so that I have a clean face and neck. I even tried electrolysis, but that did not work, either.

One day, while commuting from high school on the bus, I saw this middle aged woman sitting in front of me and she hardly had any hair on her head. Could have been for any reason from cancer treatments to early hair loss; but what really stood out to me, and changed my life, was the fact that she did not cover it up with a hat. She held her head high, apparently indifferent, and that affected me deeply. I am so grateful for her fleeting appearance in the show that is my life.

From that moment on, I decided that I was not going to be preoccupied with hair… well except the hair on my head. To go one further, I decided that God gave me all this hair to use for a positive. I have a way with little children. They like me and I like them… I can talk to them on their level, and they know that I listen to them. I will let a child stare at my stubble and try to project positive-ness by seeking eye contact and smiling. Sometimes they ask questions and I will answer. I don’t want the kids to be afraid of it, you know? Impressions are formed at a young age and my goal is to reach the kids out there and show them that there is nothing to be afraid of and that people can be approachable and satisfy their curiosity. Maybe this is my way of transforming this curse into a blessing…. one kid at a time.

I have a little one right here and he already knows that there is something “different” about my face and neck sometimes. He touches it. He runs his fingers over it and he knows, at 2 yrs old, that something is up. I cringe, however, when I think about his classmates and what they might say to my baby. I can see myself “cleaning” my face every day in an effort so that the kids at his school(s) do not find a reason to taunt him. Sigh. I have to stop myself from thinking about it from now.

Where does this general aversion to something normal come from anyway? What is so-called “normal”? I believe this topic ties into having (or developing) the capacity for tolerance of people who are “different” from us. I am talking about facial hair here, but it applies to the disabled, the elderly, different races, cultures, etc. It can apply to any differences we see around us.

I don’t know. I do know that this piece is totally disorganized with thoughts coming from all angles and absurdities; but I just had to get it out. Maybe before I get to post it, I’ll clean it up a bit…. Oops, too late!

By Janis Ian

I learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired
The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth…

And those of us with ravaged faces
Lacking in the social graces
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone
Who called to say “come dance with me”
And murmured vague obscenities
It isn’t all it seems at seventeen…

A brown eyed girl in hand me downs
Whose name I never could pronounce
Said: “Pity please the ones who serve
They only get what they deserve”
The rich relation’s hometown queen
Marries into what she needs
With a guarantee of company
And haven for the elderly…

So remember those who win the game
Lose the love they sought to gain
In debentures of quality and dubious integrity
Their small-town eyes will gape at you
In dull surprise when payment due
Exceeds accounts received at seventeen…

To those of us who knew the pain
Of valentines that never came
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball
It was long ago and far away
the world was younger than today
when dreams were all they gave for free
to ugly duckling girls like me…

We all play the game, and when we dare
We cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone
Repenting other lives unknown
That call and say: “Come dance with me”
And murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me, at seventeen…

All The Time

After my last post about the Drake and Valentine’s Day, I’ve been wanting to post something that balances the scales a little bit. Oh, and I preface by saying that the following is not motivated by anyone online, here; but from my “other” life.

As you may (or may not) know, I am a stay at home mom… so no income actually flows in from my person. Even though people say that raising a child is a job, and my part of this partnership, AND I must say that I agree with all that…. I still must say that I find it hard asking for money for myself and my own entertainment. I do know that I am entitled to money that comes in from my drake; but I’m too independent that way, and I am used to having my own money, however little it ever was. My Drake knows this and leaves me $$$ every week so I do not have to ask for it. We have a special “place” and there is always something in there. Whenever I go out, he gives me $$ even when he knows I have it from our little treasure chest. If that were not enough, he gives me $$ specifically for gas for MY car.

Today, I went to Ikea for a small bookshelf for Little Drake’s books and got the okay for $100.00. Good Shopper Mommie found one, not the one I really wanted; but for $30.00, she could not resist. Then, she bought some stuff for herself and for the house. I have told Big Drake that I will pay him for my private stuff from babysitting that I do every other week and he said, “OK”; but I know that when it comes time to pay him, he will tell me to forget about it…. so here there it is.

I absolutely KNOW that some people will judge my drake because he doesn’t follow the accepted husband protocol for Valentine’s Day. Do they know what goes on the rest of the time? Do they know how his mind works, or for that matter, how our relationship works? No. What is even worse than that is the fact that I hate to be asked about how we spent the day/night, really meaning, “what did he get you.” The last thing I want, or need, is to feel that I must recap everything else he does for me the rest of the year to justify not getting a gift that cuts the mustard in their eyes.

All The Time
by: Barry Manilow

All the time I thought
There’s only me
Crazy in a way
That no one else could be
I would have given everything I own
If someone would have said you’re not alone

All the time I thought
That I was wrong
Wanting to be me,but needing to belong
If I had just believed in all I had
If someone would have said you’re not so bad

All the time, all the wasted time
All the years, waiting for a sign
To think I had it all
All the time

All the time I thought
There’s only me
Crazy in way that no one else could be
I can’t believe that you where somewhere too
Thinking all the time there’s only you

All the time, all the wasted time
All the years, waiting for a sign
To think I had it all
All the time

Que Sera Sera


I apologize for posting this so late. I know that some of you were waiting to see whether I am prego or not. The test came back negative which means, no, I am not pregnant. The doctor wants me to have a back up test done, but I have a feeling that I am not having a baby. I want to thank everyone for their support and prayers for a favorable outcome.

Favorable? What does that mean? Are we happy about the results? I would not say that we are happy at all; but I can tell you I am relieved because a baby will not be subjected the diabetes corrupting his mother’s body. Diabetes that would all but guarantee the baby would be at high risk for the disease him or herself. Oh, no… not a chance that I’ll need another test to confirm that.

I have been thinking about the Julia Roberts character in Steel Magnolias. I think she had diabetes and ached for babies and had them, and she gave her life for her babies lives. She horrified her mother, with whom she had an extraordinarily close relationship, by begging her husband to make her pregnant; or that is what I got from the movie. I remember the funeral scene at the end with her two children left motherless. Of course you just knew that the women in the town who were the close knit crones of the beauty parlor would all help to raise those children. Well, I really have no such support system here. We have family that are so far removed geologically and with their own obligations that I can’t rely on anyone helping my husband to raise my kids if something ever happened to me. Sure, we know who we would like to raise our son if we both passed, but not just one of us, currently on my mind, me.

If the test result was positive, then we would deal with the situation as best we could, wholeheartedly welcome a new little bundle of joy. In fact, we really would like our son to have a sibling to grow up with and stay rooted with during his whole life.

At least now I can focus on the diabetes without the weight of having a life inside me being affected by what happens to my body. No baby trying to grow and being denied nutrients it needs to live by a dying or dead placenta.

It’s times like these, however, that I must bring to mind my faith in God and that there is a purpose to everything he does. Everything about my last pregnancy was punctuated with the hand of God guiding my condition and events, leading straight up to the birth of my boy. Even the pitfalls and perils turned out to be for the greater good and safety of my child and myself… but that is a post for another time. I am convinced my not being pregnant now is also the work of God and I trust in Him. I talked with DH when he got home and he insists that “it’s not over yet”, to which I replied, “Why? Because you are not a limp biscuit?” DH has the strongest faith and acceptance of God and life that I’ve ever seen. I cannot help but ponder his words and the relevance they have on our future. Que sera sera.

candles in the snow

I cannot help but include this little song I remember from my childhood, sung by Doris Day.

Que Sera Sera

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty, will I be rich
Here’s what she said to me.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead
Will we have rainbows, day after day
Here’s what my sweetheart said.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

Now I have children of my own
They ask their mother, what will I be
Will I be handsome, will I be rich
I tell them tenderly.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

The Rose


This is a picture I created in the very early 80’s and I was still 17 years old, working and head over heals for a guy I was seeing. I knew from the beginning that it would not go anywhere, but it was still thrilling being my first venture into men.

This picture was done using pastels, the colored charcoal. I used to really fall into my projects and using my fingers to blend the colors was all part of that. It was like my energy was flowing through my fingers in contact with the paper. Often, I would work in a frenzy for hours until I was finished, and ‘spent’.

The subject of this picture was a small arrangement I had put together in this very small, depression glass vase-like thing. I still have it! The rose was a ribbon rose I had made by hand and a daisy I made from cut ribbon petals and yellow button, glued onto a stem. Both of them were stuck into a little blog blob of clay. I remember trying to make it look very realistic, with the flowers on the inside being made to look faint, behind the glass, but I wanted them to be clearly seen. Surprisingly to me, I caught something that I probably could have done differently. Instead of having the blue framing the white daisy petals, it probably would have been better if I used white… but then, maybe it would not look as if it was behind the glass.  The frame is plain wood that I painted myself.  See, this whole object is creativity meeting across time… past and present.  I like that.

I saw myself has having a little secret world with this guy. Nobody knew about him. He was sort of a fling at work… AND he was married. I knew it was wrong, but at the time I had such low self esteem I didn’t think that I’d get another chance at romance, even though I knew it was not real, fake. Ugh, when I think of all the romantic indulgences I allowed myself just for that reason. I remember learning “The Rose”, by Bette Midler and singing them into his ear while we sat in the park…. eeeeeeeeeeeeeeek! But those lyrics really rang true for me at the time. Beautiful song… did you know that my idol Barry Manilow was Bette’s piano player?

The Rose
by Bette Midler

Some say love it is a river
that drowns the tender reed
Some say love it is a razor
that leaves your soul to bleed

Some say love it is a hunger
an endless aching need
I say love it is a flower
and you it’s only seed

It’s the heart afraid of breaking
that never learns to dance
It’s the dream afraid of waking
that never takes the chance
It’s the one who won’t be taken
who cannot seem to give
and the soul afraid of dying
that never learns to live

When the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long
and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter
far beneath the bitter snows
lies the seed
that with the sun’s love
in the spring
the rose

Here Comes the Story of the Hurricane

Pistol shots ring out in the barroom night
Enter patty valentine from the upper hall.
She sees the bartender in a pool of blood,
Cries out, my god, they killed them all!
Here comes the story of the hurricane,
The man the authorities came to blame
For somethin that he never done.
Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been
The champion of the world.

Three bodies lyin there does patty see
And another man named bello, movin around mysteriously.
I didnt do it, he says, and he throws up his hands
I was only robbin the register, I hope you understand.
I saw them leavin, he says, and he stops
One of us had better call up the cops.
And so patty calls the cops
And they arrive on the scene with their red lights flashin
In the hot new jersey night.

Meanwhile, far away in another part of town
Rubin carter and a couple of friends are drivin around.
Number one contender for the middleweight crown
Had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down
When a cop pulled him over to the side of the road
Just like the time before and the time before that.
In Paterson thats just the way things go.
If youre black you might as well not show up on the street
less you wanna draw the heat.

Alfred bello had a partner and he had a rap for the cops.
Him and arthur dexter bradley were just out prowlin around
He said, I saw two men runnin out, they looked like middleweights
They jumped into a white car with out-of-state plates.
And miss patty valentine just nodded her head.
Cop said, wait a minute, boys, this ones not dead
So they took him to the infirmary
And though this man could hardly see
They told him that he could identify the guilty men.

Four in the mornin and they haul rubin in,
Take him to the hospital and they bring him upstairs.
The wounded man looks up through his one dyin eye
Says, whad you bring him in here for? he aint the guy!
Yes, heres the story of the hurricane,
The man the authorities came to blame
For somethin that he never done.
Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been
The champion of the world.

Four months later, the ghettos are in flame,
Rubins in south america, fightin for his name
While arthur dexter bradleys still in the robbery game
And the cops are puttin the screws to him, lookin for somebody to blame.
Remember that murder that happened in a bar?
Remember you said you saw the getaway car?
You think youd like to play ball with the law?
Think it might-a been that fighter that you saw runnin that night?
Dont forget that you are white.

Arthur dexter bradley said, Im really not sure.
Cops said, a poor boy like you could use a break
We got you for the motel job and were talkin to your friend bello
Now you dont wanta have to go back to jail, be a nice fellow.
Youll be doin society a favor.
That sonofabitch is brave and gettin braver.
We want to put his ass in stir
We want to pin this triple murder on him
He aint no gentleman jim.

Rubin could take a man out with just one punch
But he never did like to talk about it all that much.
Its my work, hed say, and I do it for pay
And when its over Id just as soon go on my way
Up to some paradise
Where the trout streams flow and the air is nice
And ride a horse along a trail.
But then they took him to the jailhouse
Where they try to turn a man into a mouse.

All of rubins cards were marked in advance
The trial was a pig-circus, he never had a chance.
The judge made rubins witnesses drunkards from the slums
To the white folks who watched he was a revolutionary bum
And to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger.
No one doubted that he pulled the trigger.
And though they could not produce the gun,
The d.a. said he was the one who did the deed
And the all-white jury agreed.

Rubin carter was falsely tried.
The crime was murder one, guess who testified?
Bello and bradley and they both baldly lied
And the newspapers, they all went along for the ride.
How can the life of such a man
Be in the palm of some fools hand?
To see him obviously framed
Couldnt help but make me feel ashamed to live in a land
Where justice is a game.

Now all the criminals in their coats and their ties
Are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise
While rubin sits like buddha in a ten-foot cell
An innocent man in a living hell.
Thats the story of the hurricane,
But it wont be over till they clear his name
And give him back the time hes done.
Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been
The champion of the world.

I heard this song tonight on the way to the store and I immediately thought about what happened in Guantanamo Bay. My next thought was that this is nothing new. Americans are not saints and never have been; so why are we so surprised that something like this happened? We say that this is such a great country, yet we are overrun with corruption, prejudice, crime, and clergy who abuse the very children of their flock. How can everything ever be cleansed, healed?

“And the newspapers, they all went along for the ride.”

I guess what I want to express here is that I am so sick of hearing the same things in the media. I stopped watching TV because I could not stand watching it any longer. Nighttime news has definitely gone down hill, riding the coat tails of the prime time junk that was/is aired. After TV, I started to listen to talk radio, namely NPR… but all we hear about is the war… talk, talk, talk… but no solutions. What that adds up to is Mindless Talk. I listen to Brian Lehrer Show. Now, I really like that show. I love him, his voice, what they talk about… but yeeet… for all the talk, all the guest politicians, all the “expert” guests on the show, all the callers making great points, I have never heard any of these conversations come to some kind of solution. Nothing. He will always say something like, “Well, we won’t find a solution today and we’ll have to leave it here.” That is so annoying.

I’ve got one word, “Profiling”. Yeah, take a good look at these lyrics. Profiling was going on back then and who knows how long before Bob Dylan put it out there. I heard on the radio the other day an American Iraqi talking about profiling used against people from Iraq who have been here many years and legalized. Now maybe we need to profile in order to catch the new breed of “bad guys”. I think there is too much room for the bad “good” guys to run amok and perpetrate their own brand of terrorizing.Am I being picky? When will we see any solutions, or even any action towards healing from the powers that be? When will we be outta Iraq; or will we ever leave? You know, maybe those politicians do need to have a personal stake in war. Maybe we should have the draft reinstated, if only so that our presidents, senators, congressmen, etc. will know that their own family and friends are at risk of being sucked up into the foreign war vortex. Let’s face it, the American public are just pawns so that these politicians can feel good about themselves and powerful.

“Couldnt help but make me feel ashamed to live in a land
Where justice is a game.”

The Pretender

Morning light

By Jackson Browne

I’m going to rent myself a house
In the shade of the freeway
I’m going to pack my lunch in the morning
And go to work each day
And when the evening rolls around
I’ll go on home and lay my body down
And when the morning light comes streaming in
I’ll get up and do it again
Say it again

I want to know what became of the changes
We waited for love to bring
Were they only the fitful dreams
Of some greater awakening
I’ve been aware of the time going by
They say in the end it’s the wink of an eye
And when the morning light comes streaming in
You’ll get up and do it again

Caught between the longing for love
And the struggle for the legal tender
Where the sirens sing and the church bells ring
And the junk man pounds his fender
Where the veterans dream of the fight
Fast asleep at the traffic light
And the children solemnly wait
For the ice cream vendor
Out into the cool of the evening
Strolls the Pretender
He knows that all his hopes and dreams
Begin and end there

Ah the laughter of the lovers
As they run through the night
Leaving nothing for the others
But to choose off and fight
And tear at the world with all their might
While the ships bearing their dreams
Sail out of sight

I’m going to find myself a girl
Who can show me what laughter means
And we’ll fill in the missing colors
In each other’s paint-by-number dreams
And then we’ll put out dark glasses on
And we’ll make love until our strength is gone
And when the morning light comes streaming in
We’ll get up and do it again
Get it up again

I’m going to be a happy idiot
And struggle for the legal tender
Where the ads take aim and lay their claim
To the heart and the soul of the spender
And believe in whatever may lie
In those things that money can buy
Thought true love could have been a contender
Are you there?

Say a prayer for the Pretender
Who started out so young and strong
Only to surrender

Can this man do any wrong? Some of you might be getting bored with all of my Jackson Browne posts, but I’ve never really had the chance to put it out there. Now I can share it with an unlimited amount of people. I mean, REALLY let his words sink in. Notice how he can see into the souls of a diverse range of people, and of the reality of every day life.

“I want to know what became of the changes
We waited for love to bring
Were they only the fitful dreams
Of some greater awakening”

Notice how that whole second verse ponders reincarnation, at least I think so. Can it be that our dreams are a glimpse into a greater awakening? He says the end of life is in the blink of an eye, “and when the morning light comes streaming in, you’ll get up and do it again.” Could that mean that at some point after we die, we’ll come back, “get up and do it again?”

“Where the sirens sing and the church bells ring”

Can he be referring to people being bombarded by the sirens of consumerism, mystically calling out to us, so that we can barely hear the church bells of reason and what is really important? Can there ever really be a balance between these two? I hope so because I am someone struggling between the two. Is it a cop out to say that this is where the world is heading? Our children need to be able to function in it in order to survive, let alone make it and be successful. Must we, the parents, live life to the exclusion of all the comforts the world has to offer today in order to teach our children not to be dependent upon them? I tend not to think so because at some point they will be confronted with it and will not know how to handle it from inexperience. They say, “Moderation”. I can see that being a parent will be a lot more stressful than it already has and I am not looking forward to it. I just pray to God that I will find my way and do and say the right things to teach my kid(s?) well.

Mr. Browne accurately points the finger at us happy idiots, complaining about consumerism, yet we partake of many of what it offers. [This might be of particular interest to Justin V as I just read one of his posts, “Stay Outta My Frig”.] I will be the first to admit that we are definitely struggling, yet I am an electronic gadgets geek. Well, not really a geek because I know far less than they about electronics and technology… yet there is a strong appeal here for me as evidenced by my love of blogging. Blogging is a combination of two of my loves, writing at the speed of thought and electronics- in particular laptops and the internet. I am an information monster, gobbling it up as I go. I love learning little bits of everything that there is to learn out there. I can now get it as fast as I can handle receiving it. Oh, let me not forget to mention my new wireless mouse, named Freebird; and it only cost 20 bucks. I love cell phones and really want a Chocolate; but will not get one because though I am a techie wannabe, nobody really calls me, so it would just be for the music, though I will not subscribe to yet another service when I am already paying for the line. Lastly, there MUST be at least a few bugs in it that they have to work out. I hate how they drag you in. Thank goodness a cell phone is a necessity in this day and age. Yes, a necessity. When was the last time you saw any public phone, let alone a WORKING one? I have a good service package, but seldom use all the minutes, though, there are times when we really need them… all our family is long distance, except my sister, who would not be considered local. After all this talk, I think I should say that I won’t be getting the Chocolate any time soon, though I hate my Motorola Razor. Thought it was cool when I got it, plus it only cost $30.00… but it is more of an annoyance than a good phone for me. I touched upon this in my post, “Electronic Candy”.

Music is also a major part of my consumerism, though I do not consider myself crazy about it. I will say, however, that my iTunes is not working right since I changed my library. I will end up starting all over from scratch and transfer my music again to itunes. Only about 3-4 dayas worth of music from all my CD’s, which will have to be converted first to itunes format. SOS~ If anyone has any idea what has happened, please contact me at ….. thanks so much.

“Say a prayer for the Pretender
Who started out so young and strong
Only to surrender”

P.S;~ As a side note, as I write here, I am basking under the “muy” chilly lights of Starbucks on my night out, sipping an iced coffee. I’ve often wondered why they keep it so cold in here, even in the winter, while they make it so inviting to stay and hang out by providing great music, WiFi, large comfortable chairs, tables for laptops, cute blue shades on desks lamps, with outlets available right next to you. What is the deal? Do they want us to stay, or go?

I will go for now.

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