After eating the berries
In the woods where I walked
I sat leaning against a tree
And in my delirium, talked
To the gnomes and elves
That were circling round me
Apparently they
Had been hiding in the tree
I inquired why the light
Was getting so dim
As I took my last breath
And became one of them
There is a danger in the backlash
When the woman scorned
Meets the resolve in her backbone
Havoc knows no more dangerous animal
Than that of she who is also a mother
Do not tread upon these waters
Little old Fiddlebrock Simpsonstien
Wondered the streets alone
He was a simple and quiet old man
His features like toppling stone
No one could understand him
When words did escape his lips
While some would laugh and tilt their heads
Others laid hands on hips
With head hung low like the setting sun
Fiddlebrock heads for home
An appliance box with newspaper floor
Keeps him warm from the fresh falling snow
The tin cup harpsichord
Sounds, tinny, at its best
Not a soul can play it, no
It should be laid to rest
But Rooster Oscar Blatherbeat
Just has to try his hand
He thinks the sound is pretty
So, he placed it in his band
No one has the heart to say
“You fool! You’re so tone deaf!”
As they let him play
Everyday
C, F and G bass clef
This granite heart is still hardening
After all that it’s been through
Please don’t waste your time on me
There is nothing you can do
Aged and cracked and dying
My heart will ever be this way
So, keep your words and promises
For someone else – for another day
No, don’t ask to be let in
You’ll only get depressed
The ragged, jagged edges here
Will slice your love to death
How can you be so persistent – no
You can never believe in me
This heart of clay here in your hands
Now moldable and free
You’re a damaged song
All your lyrics are wrong
How did you get this way?
Where is the child
That was carefree and wild?
What happened that dreadful day?
Alas I can see
The image is me
No music left in my soul.
A strumming of time
Without rhythm or rhyme
Has finally taken its toll.
Where once was an opus
Of treble clef notes
And bass that rippled the air.
Are now broken tones
Solitary, old bones
Displayed on a sheet of despair.
