all Psalms are sung
the dead are gone
and those they left
must carry on
to wring their hands
and cry the tears
but where’s the solace
through the years,
forget the dust
let ashes ease
to greet the sun
and birth the bees.
song
Always September : An Homage I Meant To Send To Aznavour (but then he died)
the springtime of love
like it’s autumn’s fall
is the same song I sing today
ce une dichotomie ridicule
and we question not
but simply play our parts
in this melodrama’s comedy
That’s written in the scarred hearts
of September.
the passion’s fire
and its dying embers
two acts of the same play
ce une dichotomie ridicule
and we question not
but simply play our parts
in this melodrama’s comedy
That’s written in the scarred hearts
of September….toujours septembre
Ballad
let me sing
a young man’s song
set to a sad guitar
let me sing it
all night long
underneath the stars
let me love
a young man’s love
and write it out in pride
to hold forever
as a rhyme
until my love has died
Simple Song
I watched her reading
something about Marianne
when she was a girl
she looked so pensive
thinking on the little birds
when she was a girl
she sat drinking tea
her face mirrored the noon sun
when she was a girl
I smiled from afar
on seeing her photograph
when she was a girl
Another Simple Song
I made a ship from paper
and set it on the sea
hoping that it sail away
and bring you here to me.
I started painting pictures
in lines and colours traced
to sketch upon the empty page
an image of your face.
I slept to build a dreamscape
bright and gold and new
that sometime in my slumber
I’d make love to you.
Forty Fives
The man in sunglasses
taught me how to cry
a Canadian Jew
showed me how to sigh
a man without peace
filled me with love
so I’ll take a forty five
when push comes to shove
a bum from Duluth
gave me pause for thought
the crazy New Yorker
moved me more than he ought
and a golden haired boy
brought my dance alive
so when push comes to shove
I take forty fives.
Unfinished Song Without A Tune
I sailed you
like a Leonard Cohen song
exotic, yet familiar
to me, at least.
as a compass
did your glances guide me
from north to south
and west to east.
you promised calmer waters
though the storm did not avail
but my fate already courted
in the belly of a whale
and so I sit ‘neath darkened skies
in tempests of my dreams
where your image hypnotizes
all I’ve ever been.
Cowboys
What are you dear space cowboy?
at that round up on the moon
are your spurs all full of cheese
and holsters full of spoons?
don’t you know that moonbeams
cannot be herded in
nor can the silver light that shines
be branded on its skin
so take a break space cowboy
and sing your western tunes
the night sky is a lonely range
and most lonesome is the moon.
The Empty Bottle (an unfinished song)
the whiskey of September
made him feel that it was May
but when he reached December
all the years had died away.
and now the empty bottle
lies discarded on the floor
the summer nights it promised
will shine on him no more.
That Time I Thought I Was Donovan In South Kensington (a song)
was in Hyde Park a walkin’
like a minstrel boy a singin’
’bout movie stars
and yé yé girls
in my step my feet a tappin’
up past the ready red bricks
down to get my beat kicks
with minor lords
and boot boys
in my head my feet a tappin’
said hello to Albert Hall
round the back we had a ball
those beagle shirts
and mini-skirts
my fingers a snap, snap snappin’
if you worked out what I mean
you know I need a tambourine
and Marquee lads,
some Eton cads
and my feet a tap tap tappin’
