Hey Washington

March 30, 2007

On the eve of war we marched half a million strong
But she and I weren’t quite getting on.
She said something’s come between us
But it’ll be OK
When we get to Washington, Washington.

The storm marked the march’s end
That February and
The trains could not take her home.
So we danced in the drifts
But I said something I cannot recall
And lost her somewhere in the snow.

I might fight for her, knowing my mistake
Just to show her we could change, people change.
I might ask her to try again today
But she wed a better man
So there’s not much I can say.

Hey Washington, make me a better man
Its 3 years I been gone, I’ve been gone.
Hey Washington, make me a better man
This time I lost someone, lost someone.

Am I coming home?

In my time out west I witnessed beauty, I guess
But I still walk alone.
And I’ll seek purpose in the city
From Shaw to U Street
Through Washington, Washington.

On a vent before the White House
Lying in the streets
Ancient men who might as well be me
Their tattered coats tell the tale of contrast in a country
Sleep the soul of America in Washington, D.C.

Hey Washington, make me a better man
It is 3 years I been gone, I’ve been gone.
Hey Washington, make me a better man
This time I lost someone, lost someone.

We need dignity, some way to stand tall.
Without love, I’ll find another call.
I should hand out blankets to my brothers on the mall
Who sleep under names on the Vietnam wall.

Am I coming home? Not at all.

Hey Washington
Hey Washington
Hey Washington, make me a better man
This time I lost someone, lost someone
Washington.

Dom Helder Camara

I wrote a call to subversion
In the margins of my sermon
In a service last Sunday.

Losing faithful to the purging
Losing lives to coercion
This was never God’s way.

Now this Evita, I haven’t seen her
You lied to me Argentina
But I won’t do the same.

I’m underground in my nation
A theology of liberation
Live to pray another day.

Killing time in the Southern Cone!

These are the front lines
The junta high crimes
I’ve a right to speak my mind
But the AAA knows where to draw the line.

A vacant garage turned to torture
I’m disappeared; they earn a fortune
Selling children of the dead.

It’s high time I introduce ya
Nuestra fea guerra sucia
Unrecorded until yet.

So tell the story for tomorrow
I’m Dom Helder Camara
I’m the future of the past.

Por ahora, Por mañana
I’m Dom Helder Camara
And I won’t be the last.

El curo del Cono Sur!

On the front lines
The junta high crimes
I’ve a right to speak my mind
And you can kill me but you’ll never keep me in line.

Siddhartha on His Raft

From 14 on
I listened to the river.
And voices still are strong
In the currents.

I hear chorus, I hear clash
So I can’t listen in class.
Yet in my peace I find
I’m Siddhartha on his raft.

Like Herman Hesse
I suffer long for peace.
And maybe I find less
The more I seek.

I can’t relate
So I wait and think and fast.
And in my peace I find
I’m Siddhartha on his raft.

Hey Siddhartha! Push that raft!

I know
You think
I don’t see you at all.
I’m a distant wolf of the steppes,
And oh so critical.
I hear, currents, chorus, chaos, clash
The unity comes through.
See, I see more than most
And I see you
I see you.

Today
Words and thoughts
Are my craft.
And in my peace I find
I’m Siddhartha
On his raft.

I think and wait and fast.

Sundays

I miss you most on Sundays
In the evenings
In the evenings.

When I face the week alone in a panic
And I hate it
And I’m fading.

‘Cause I’ve lost a bit of time
I ought to have spent giving.
And I could miss my life
Working over living.

The hour’s late and I should really hit those books
But they’ll be here tomorrow.
What I should really do is listen for a while
To understand your sorrow.

Tell me, tell me sister
What do you believe in?
Tell me, tell me
But do not speak from reason.

Tell me, tell me sister
What do you believe in?
Tell me, tell me
But do not speak from reason.
We only take these jobs
Out of fear of getting lost.
I think we only write these books
Because we’re afraid to talk.

Wait up for me I bed a little longer
I’ve one more song to write
And then I
Will turn out
The light.

Darker days

When I moved west to the East Bay
The sun came constant for 40 days.
Over time, I tired of smiles
Fashioned to fit the rays.
Man, I was made for darker days.

Uncertainty is never far away
You can read it
In the desperate minds of men.
Who hide their concern
In the pews and lecterns
‘Til dark days come for them.

Man, I was made for darker days
Oh-ha, I was made for darker days.

Everything is serious to me
I see the consequence in small things.
You’ll ignore me, denounce me
And you’ll frown when I speak.
But wait for the trembling of a leaf.
I’m feeling out infinity.

I only want to be of use.
To protect a people or an idea.
I know there’s a time to amuse
But one day these fortunes’ll disappear.

When the festivities fade
With the declining terms of trade
I’ll make sense
For I was made for darker days.

Maybe I can explain
My unhappiness away
If I believe
I was made
For darker days.

Man, I was made for darker days
Oh-ha, I was made for darker days.


The room

(over the course of several years and a couple continents)

How many years did you spend in that room?
Spinning records, writing letters.
You know I fear the day I lose my voice, but
You don’t have that choice.

I’m looking at the cut and paste
Patchwork body art
That are your scarred arms.
Your skin is clay, and soft to carve.
And soft to carve.

You’re living years in the tornado room
The doctor’s coming soon
With charts and codes and books and bones
He’ll write you right out of ruin.

Guard your insanity at fifteen
In your room; the door off its hinges.
In yellows and greens I scribble and smear
And dream of illnesses.

‘cause I can tell by the lines in your cheek
You’re tattered, you’re just like me.
I know it still, you’ve been locked up for weeks
You’re marked, in sane, you’re free.

Guard your insanity
All the world would steal your humanity
Given one shot
Make meals of your nails and know that normalcy’s a lie
The art of being what you’re not.

Trite conversations

July 2005 – Berkeley

All these months I’ve been buried in books
And I barely managed to steal a look at you
But I know you feel the same.

Evening trappings of the trite
Another social gathering
Seemingly light
But it’s not quite

If I could I would believe
In simple dreams and simple speak
I know…
Every year my love grows deep and so does my hate
I’m losing my restraint.

Ties and cocktails, legal briefs
And brief conversations
To not detract from exams
And I do not understand.

I’ll escape the affair for a seat by the fountain
I am an aging ancient man
And it’s so long since I laughed.

But I’ve heard tell you’ve lived harder things
Like death and depth and meaning
We need to connect
While we’ve still a few years left.

In these times we must believe
In simple dreams and simple speak
I know…
I see your anger, undeserved
And you need to talk, but cannot speak a word.

So when I ask you how you are
Please do not
Don’t tell me that you’re fine.
I want to hear more.

All these months I’ve been buried in books
And I barely managed to steal a look at you
But I know you feel the same.

American June

Gaz-guzzlin’
On the shining path to the AMC
These Reston friends are the bestest, yet at best they’re temporary.
You know this sing-along song, it’s a classic, that same old stupid tune
The front porch rock inheritance of an American June.

Leave it on the tip of an American June.

The USA is a tarmac, arrivals and departures in a sea of concrete
Even when I watch my life go by from the window of an old SUV
Even when you’re not ready to take the time for the love that I give you for free
‘Cause even if I just use you
I’ll still have
Me.
And that’s the American dream….

Happy meals we call them
We Stop n’ Shop in just every place
With the Meals-on-Wheels so hidden; wrap our lives in cellophane
Some of us will get ahead, and some will clean up after those who do.
But as long as the Red Sox are playin’
There’ll be no revolution anytime soon.

Leave it on the tip of an American June.
All these things they take up both the far and the soon.

Even when you’re not ready to take the time for the love that I give you for free,
Even when I ask you to marry and a career is your primary need,
Even when I’m old and careful scaring kids off my private property
‘Cause even if I just use you
I’ll still have
Me.
And that’s the American dream.

Give me something to fight for; something to fight for besides me.

Quarter Rests

June 2005 – Berkeley

When you heard the news
Did you think that you deserved it?
Some awful punishment?

To waste away in perfect privacy
Hidden
From God and those you love.

Now you’re skipping pills
Some weird economy
To save on bills; but not to save your life.

Did we forget you
In our inertia
Did you fall into
A gap in conscious time?

I see you on the street
I see you losing weight
In the Mission
You could use one now.

You slip between the moments
Slip between the oceans
In the quarter rests.

Show me the way
To march in this pride parade
We’ll leave these lives, and jump on highway one
Driving north
North
Don’t look back
Drive straight into the sun.

You slip between the moments
Slip between the oceans

In the quarter rests.

You slip between the moments
Slip between the oceans
In the quarter rests.

Passengers

June 2006 – Oakland

Come inside; I’ve a story to tell.
About choices I’ve made
And some I’ve come to regret.

Like I’ve never stayed anywhere
Long enough to love anyone right.
How I’m never safe
So I can’t make you safe tonight; lying awake.

Give in; you can pick up the phone
We’re not the only ones
Who feel alone.
Yet we hide in the masquerade
We hide in the river of stones.
And we ride just like passengers
Damned to never go home.

If I reach for you
Would you fall back and shudder?
We can all, we can all
Take better care of each other.

Come inside; I’ve a story to tell
About choices I
Might not have time to make.

For I’m riding this train, that only pulls
Into stations for a moment or two.
And the passengers change
And I’ve no one
To hold on to
Along the way.