Budapest Hotel

 The dumb bells spoke 

And the fires smoke

The travelling salesman

Told another joke

About the poor folk

And the rich folk as well

But he can't tell you nothing

Except what's good to sell

The Arabian knights

They charged in ten thousand

To the top of the hill

Where the dunes golden sand

Glistened and sparkled

And listened like the stars

But they only spoke silence

Like the surface of Mars

And somethings stand

While other things fall

I thought the hotel was grand

Until I saw the holes in the wall

From the bullets that were fired

When the communists came

Well they never said nothing

Except nothing does change

Choices

 There are fires that are burning

In little homesteads churning

Out the milk

And fraught and fought

With the captain from the fort

But he just won't let them go

Along the paths of gravel

Where they travel through four feet of snow

And I should have guessed

What a mess it all would show

After I abandoned the best

That the country had let go

And yet we each must pass the test

Of the coal black crow

Who chooses life and death

From her branch throne of hedgerow

To the Tune of Black Nag -old English folk dance tune

 When you see the signs road, 

you see the signs on the road

And hear the sighs of the toad

Once you see the signs on the road

And you know just what you are owed

You can travel on

Well the traveller came to rest one day

In a forest glade

The willows grew and quite obscured

His rightful right of way

He called to the trees of the bay

He called to the owls of the tree

And said won't you get out of my way

They said

Once you read the signs of the road

You'll know just what you are owed

And what you have to pay

The traveller got up and shouted

How dare you talk to me that way

I have the right to pass, from this path I shall not stray

But the trees cried why, why behave that way

Why can't you see your way

You're as stubborn as an ass that neighs

Won't you read the signs on the road

Then you shall know just what you are owed

And how much you have to pay

Dixie Tune

 Go on your way, way way over the delta

Come home, come home

All ye travellers of the trail

On your way

Over that old Mountain, 

Over the paths of stone

Step your clip-clop shoes

On the paths of stone

Over that wide river

Row, row your boat

row it til  the break of day

Heave, heave your shovel in the mud and clay

Over that old mountain, mountain all the day

Step, step upon the trail

Where the white doves sail

Through the mists of day

Up into the sunshine

Til you find your rightful way

Once you're there, once you're there

time turkey

 I used to lie in the gravel of the sun

For hours and hours

Used lie above the woodshed

On the virginia creepers

And examine the soft jews ear

That grew on the elder

That stood by the slat wooden fence

That sometimes blew down in the wind

I used to watch the cat walking along the fence top

And then she would travel down

and up the side of the house plot

I had a heart to love

All the bees in the foxgloves

But I can't say that now

I used to feel care free chasing butterflies in fields

Or watching snails wandering underneath Rhubarb leaves

I used to have that desire to find out all about the world

But I don't have that now

Wooden Verse

 You might be a weary traveller

Or tourist down the road

You might be party rabbler

Who needs to lighten his load

Well might the words unravel her

And let down Rapunzel's hair

For Poetry is the great relaxer

It has time to stop and stare

You might be loose like a canon

Bowling down the street

Or you might stand by your stantion

And never move your feet

There is a poem for everyone

For each a line or phrase

That sends the heart in all directions

Like a new sun's rays

And if but just one word

Might linger on your lips

Then lightness as if of a bird

May begin to swing your hips

And if in a restful moment

The thought bird does return to rest

Upon your troubled shoulders 

then from its presence you can learn

For nothing may ease the soul

Then the sweet honey of a line

That is you can have my money

If I can take your time

Do you think that I'm a fool

To want the things I want

To throw away the lines from school

Like water from the font

Well, welcome one an' all

To the writer who's on pont

Now lay down all your tools

And hear the things you want

travelogue

 Through hell and high water for the captain's daughter

I roamed across the sea

And though I had sought her,

I never found what I oughta,

But I was just tryin' to be free

When she walked in a bar

Like a movie Star

I was someone behind the scenes

And she tried to mar,

My feathers and tar

She looked cruel and mean

And I bit her bra

And I lit my cigar

On her fire, if you know what I mean

now she's travelled far

in a big black car

and I hardly know where I've been

well it could have been mars

Or down the bottom of bell jars

But that must have been pretty lean

Now she has gone back

To her homeward shack

And I'm left like a string bean

All strung out on the shelf of self

Left here alone so unclean

I must wash myself of her elf health

And get me back on the road again

And it should not be a wealth to

discover oneself

Right back where I had always been

Only in creation are we living beings

Only through destruction can we find construction

And that's all I have to say of those things