We Shall Meet Again-In The Great ‘Bye And Bye’
Just a few days ago a good friend of mine died
I have been thinking about how to pay Him Respect
The man let me marry His Daughter 18 years back
Two Mother-N-Laws from one Bride, lucky that I am
The day I met Him I knew we were going to be friends
The last time we stood face to face, knowing it’s our last
We promised the next time We see each other, after this
Will be In the ‘Great Bye and Bye’ – we will see each other again
49 Years Ago Today
49 years ago this afternoon my big Brother got hitched
Real good woman, two kids, to bad he couldn’t adapt
1968 how many worlds and life times ago was that
Think about it, Nixon hadn’t even lied to us Turnips yet
This year ignorance killed a Doctor in Memphis, Mr. King
12 yrs old, call came in Dad’s favorite Brother lay dying
An hour ago got the call my Father-in-Law has passed away
If your old enough, look at the world in 1968, look at it now
If you found away to go back to 1968, would you take that leap
Even with today’s brain, could our heart endure the pain again
In a perfect world big Brother and His Bride are still dancing
On today’s clock for 25 years now my Brother has been buried
The events of life that we all have seen, good, bad and nasty
Could our minds handle the shock of seeing all the dead again
If tonight you could go back to 1968, live it again, would you
Today Columbus inadvertently started the end of many Nations
Where Is The Wrath Of God
Why do the Evil get richer and the poor die in squalor
We spread our seed as we work our own will to the top
A disease, a rock, or a fool with a Bomb could kill us
Populations within one country fight with the other
World regions where their Leaders strut like a giddy hen
One people rule another for the riches their lands possess
We have progressed to where we have Lion Trophy Hunts
The very richest take the power like lumber, oil and gold
Indigenous, run through like a bulldozer through a hut
All lies, the Earth is not warming and the Seas aren’t rising
When there is no profitable work for the poor, why have them
Round them up like we did the Indian Tribes way back when
If you can’t Pay to Play you do not have any God-given rights
How un-holy, those who have, sharing with those lazy Sloths
The Wealthy are the Connected they choose who the world hates
Where is the Wrath-of-God, just a fantasy of the weak and foolish
Where is the Wrath-of-God, Man rules the sky, land and the Seas
We kill all who wont bow to the will of the Richest Men, as they take
Wisdom to the foolish there is no such thing as the Wrath-of-God
‘Thou Fool’ the Rich and Poor, we all are to taste of death one time
The Wrath-of-God, that is the second death and I hear it’s kinda hot
Is there any ground that is not stained with innocent blood
Through the thousands and thousands of human years told
Every Clan every village every woman every child and man
There are shadows that move in the back swamps at night
Every Pod sprouts out into the light showing good seed and rotten
Here in the U.S. our own History shows we invaded every neighbor
There is blood on the hands of everyone who survived a cleansing
Freedom ain’t Free if all flows to the top end of big Gov and Corporate
How many fields and streams have flowed red with the innocent
Political Media spin put up a face act all amazed to learn about you
Ain’t nobody without a little dirt kicked onto a family grave
We won our freedom but how many free people did we kill
Some blood were proud of spilling, some were ashamed of
Can any Country live Free without making a mistake of two
There are dark shadows in the forest and swamps of all Lands
A Rainy Day In The Bluegrass
(This poem is dedicated to my Father-in-Law Glenn Wright who
is very, very close to saying goodbye to us this evening. Dad is at
the stage where if you are merciful, please pray for Dad to let go,
to go to sleep. He told me his wishes several times, to let Him go.)
I was graced to be born in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia
One of Yahweh’s beautiful landscapes for the human eye to see
Lived many a year on the land where Mr. Crockett called home
All are lands where the Fiddle and the Banjo still sing their songs
Too lay down in the ground where Mr. Boone once had a Fort
Blessed to have been born in one of God’s beautiful Mountain Resort
We all must face that rainy day, as for me I wish to be lain, under Bluegrass
(Writing this piece this evening as I was working on the sections I realized even more things that we two had in common. Either way, I salute you Sir, you are a very good Father-in-Law, thank you for giving me such a wonderful Lady and Son.)
High On A Mountain Top
Driving a truck for a living you see a lot of sights
The North East big cities and give you thrills or chills
Corn, grain or hay the flat grounds will depress the insane
Cast your sight into the Western Sun let your eyes fill
Snow caps in June enough to get an old heart a pumping
With an 80 thousand pound sled from Peak to dead
Because of your sense of duty you will race a storm at times
3 Hours over on the Book can save you 3 days buried in Butte
Yet sitting in a Truck Stop Parking lot in Butte is its own thrill
The land around Missoula Montana must be Hollowed Ground
High up on the Mountain Top in the Blue Ridge I was born
On this Mountain Top in Kentucky you can see Heavens Gates above
Protect With Both: Your Bible And Your Gun
Taking the breath away from another should never become easy
When a stranger comes to your door do you always ooze kindness
Self-famous Leaders take all of the rights, away from their slaves
Only the Wolves should have fangs, we others should bow down
Governments say that they are for the good of man, they mean them
The fool and the ignorant say there is no God that we have to obey
Everyone is a Spiritual Being who came from God and will go back
The so-called Left can not see the Spiritual ignorance they are in
Some folks on the Right want to use a tank to hunt down Bugs Bunny
The Left nor the Right are able to see that Freedom lies in the middle
Someone has always tried to deny the Works of a Divine Being, a God
There are always some who would give all your freedoms away, for peace
Why some Politicians so eager to have all their constituents unarmed
The foolish they try to kill God and education, at school and Peoples homes
A Free People only stay free by the Grace of God and their strength of Arms
Will We Recognize The King
Disciples did not recognize Him as He spoke with them
Jesus standing on the shore conversing as if they were friends
Granted, when one has died seeing them again can be a surprise
Will we recognize the Hand that reaches into the sea to save us
To look up from the depths were drowning in and see the face of God
Samaria, the woman at Josephs Well though seeing did not see Him
Have we had five loves yet still with another we choose to lay our head
Ye think not that the Spirit of God can not see below the dirt we all wear
The Mountains shall be flat, Jerusalem shall be laid in total nuclear waste
The Kingdom is the Spirit of God, we have to wish to see our Creators Face
Do not be like the Bridesmaids who left themselves alone out in the dark
Possessed by the Spirit of Christ you will recognize the voice and face of God
We are all possessions, we were all bought and paid for by the blood of the Lamb
Can we not see an understand that all of Creation was created by the great “I Am”
We will recognize the King because we are inside of Him and He inside of us
Saying Goodbye, Again
(This is dedicated to a man I look up to, my Father-In-Law, Glenn Wright)
How many times do we say goodbye, to the same one
We lose them in dreams at night even before their gone
The pain of reality like sharp darts to the Core of the Heart
Laying down, one you love, tears the Soul into many pieces
Yet I know that they knew, they were so dearly loved by I
Does one truly die if loved ones cherish the thought of them
We may all say goodbye once, location of the second, is the trip
Explain Your Self
Just who do we really think we are
If a stranger asked our spouse about us
What is it do we think they would really say
Would they paint the stranger a happy picture
Or, would they vent and spit venom at our name
Our Children, do you think they ever really knew us
Ever wonder what our kids and theirs think about us
Do you think about if they know you really do love them
Our childhood, how did we really manage to survive it
What have we done for those we can say we really love
So many failures, so many things I wish I could change
Were you are a child just trying to learn to stay out of the way
If you were never taught reality, how can one manage to find it
We hopefully can reach old age if we can live long enough to enjoy it
An Old Wise Man told me this just a few days before he passed away
When we finally learn our self, its time to give our Soul back to God
HE DIED YOUNG AND HIS CHILDREN NEVER HEARD HIS STORIES
Reflections on the Road
Make a Start
Writing is human communication tool and it brings out the real personality in you as a person.
My life, my story.
Recipe Jharkhand Cuisine
Think. It ain't illegal... yet.
