4/25/10

Little Bit Down The Line

we're all gonna feel the power
we're all gonna break from the crowd
we're all gonna see the glory
just a little bit down the line
we're all letting go of our anger
just a little bit down the line

we're all gonna live forever
but we're all gonna feel the pain
we're all gonna be together
just a little bit down the line

talk to red heart angels
just a little bit down the line
talk with familiar strangers
just a little bit down the line
just a little bit down the line
just a little bit down the line
just a little bit down the line

G
CG
GD
CG
capo1

4/24/10

Texico (Draft): Grace Of The Aged

            Getting old, passing through life, learning lessons, inspiring. However we describe it, it is undeniable that physically we are diminished by the years. Some have more fight than others and spend their ever shorter life battling the aches, pains, and wreckage of their bodies. But what of the mind? The same destruction comes to our minds, and our souls, and the battle needs to be joined in those areas too. Describing how we attack aging or declaring how we are going to fight all the way to the end seems misguided in a way. Surely, we are meant for, and have been promised, everlasting life. The fight can come from that instinct and taken to its fleshly absurdity.

     L. Dean Fitzgerald is an old man in the present tense of the story. However, he has an easy peace about the inevitable decline. Acknowledgement is ever present, but it does not seem to become a central complaint or reason for empathetic pleadings. Wisdom is the benefit of the aged man or woman. Created by experiences and long periods of considering. Mistakes are remembered with passing regret, but remembering and regretting are mainly activities of the foolish and beaten. In Texico, we have a post succession, and principled, Texas and a lost Mexico becoming a nation. We are about 30 years forward from the present day which allows for a completely empty historical record. This is the basis of the fiction and is like an empty canvass for an author. God willing, I will live these three decades myself, but I will explore the effects of aging in the 40s, 50s, and 60s, from an outsider's perspective. Hopefully, writing the story of an aged man, among other aged men and women, will lead to thoughtful imagining of the road to the casket--or urn of ashes--or desert tomb.

     In Texico, age and time will be a central feature of the story. The story of the initial rumblings of succession, the executed plan to leave the United States, the merging of Texas and Mexico, the rapid and astounding economic and diplomatic success of Texico, and the current reality of the nation will be told as betrayal and fearless love bind and divide the characters.



                          

4/21/10

Eleven Eleven

see what you find in the back pages of your life
when daylight comes and you thank Him for the light
He might want you to write
He may want you to fight
He may want you to close your eyes
and thank Him, and ask Him, one more time.

speak to me, i beg you, i want to know
wanna know, wanna know, wanna know, oh Lord i want to know
I'll do what i am told
unload my cargo
end up in San Antonio
fallen cold, no hero, a complete fiasco

too late to be up at night, it's a bit past eleven
should hang it up tonight, as tired as i been
really thought we'd win
they had the better men
i shouldn't try and pretend
they wouldn't bend, up by ten, couldn't defend

G
CCCG
CG
CG
C
DD7G
 

4/17/10

Wine Cost 35 Bucks

never heard of no wine cost 35 bucks
daily shipment comes in from the big trucks

man you funny is what she said to me
blessed her when she shook out an early spring sneeze

i don't blame you for taking it back
she kept on talking as we walked past the snacks

no wine is worth that much cash
get you some mad dog if you want to get smashed

get you some mad dog
get you some mad dog
get you some mad dog
if you want to get smashed

GEmGD

Mindless Motions

up before 6, my body's aching
ignoring all the pain i've been taking
we can all see the wages of time
we can all see the wages of time

top of the day and i'm needing something
get a quick bite and keep on humming
mindless motions keep me here
mindless emotions keep me here

afternoon wind gets everything dirty
don't drink like i did in my thirties
no need to stop on the way home
no need to stop on the way home

harvest covers a peaceful table
sharing stories, reading poems, thinking about fables
i wonder if i'm breaking down
i wonder if i'm breaking down
we can all see the wages of time
we can all see the wages of time

CG
FC
GC
GFC

*co-written with kent deville

4/15/10

Billy's Got To Go

james coburn seems the real pat garrett
riding around the streets of low down lincoln in the rain

with the women he had a heavy hand
got shaved and bathed by servant girls

coburn gonna make 'em sigh
coburn gonna make a show
coburn gonna make 'em run for cover
billy's got to go

never took his thoughts off billy the kid
he was scared, and brave, and confident, and ashamed

smirked at him with his cutting eyes
before he drew his gun and shot the man of fame

coburn gonna make 'em sigh
coburn gonna make a show
coburn gonna make 'em run for cover
billy's got to go

coburn gonna make 'em sigh
coburn gonna make a show
coburn gonna make 'em run for cover
billy's got to go
billy's got to go
billy's got to go

E
AE

B7A
B7A
B7
EAE

4/4/10

The Bread Rose Just Right

Leaving the church Friday night after Good Friday service, where our pastor thankfully reminded us of the goodness, even greatness, of the day, I was feeling like a scoundrel.  We left Him there and ran.   We lied and doubted.  We are weak souls.  Shallow souls.  This is the ever-nagging pull of the cross.  Our awe at the Man who did take it.  He had the same soul and understands our weakness.  As does the Creator, who created it all.  The fact that this Man was also God, as proven by the Resurrection and the Holy Spirit, gives you an appreciation for our God's courage, imagination, and perfectness.  But, still, I was low and unworthy on Friday night.  The $40 burger dinner afterwards at Fuddruckers didn't really help matters.  Buns were a bit too sloppy and the tomotoes were suspect.  Cranky, I was.  A cheerleader routine later that evening had me smirking and by the time my wife joined in, I was picking out the music.  The Traveling Wilbury's closed the performance with Where Were You Last Night.  Songs from explorers.  Never did completely shake the blues of the good, even great, night and went to bed occupied and sad.

Dead Saturday was a relief.  Sure, Jesus has decended and is now facing down Satan, but the pain and blood is unseen.  Seeing Him suffering man's rotten sin, is tough.    Through our eyes and understanding.  Pitiful good Friday.  The actual act of dying witnessed by His own mother, and many others.  Eleven cowardly diciples missed the event.  Tangling with the devil is next.  No one had a chance to write about that battle.  Son of God is not as understood by us.  If he took the beating, hanging, stabing, and burial of the previous day for us, imagine the weight of Saturday.  Dead Saturday.  I even went an extra 5 minutes on the bike machine in humble inspiration.  We prayed longer for our Saturday late-morning meal to the point of distraction and sacrifice.  Omlettes with buttery mushrooms and onions.  I snuck a meaty piece of bacon.  The smell of the breakfast kitchen was too much.  A sip of coffee as my oldest prayed for Jesus.  I sensed the women, all three, understood what was happening.  Through the Saturday we tried to keep busy.  Basketball, climbing, shopping, groceries, running, cheering, winning, catching-up, movie (the wimpy kid), popcorn, greasy shirt, showers, curlers, let the bread rise.  Wanted to go to sleep early.  Don't want to think about the last stages of the fight that started on Friday night. 

Dreamed worriedly last night and woke to a cool, windless Easter morning.  The Red Wheel Sweet Cinnamon French Braid turned out nice after a full night of rising.  Yes, the bread rose just right.  Everything settled.  Jesus is gone.  Come back and gone.  He went on, back then, to appear to thousands.  Humans since able to breathe in the Creator, the Savior, the Son of God, the Son of Man through the Holy Spirit.  Easter is the day of validation.  Everything is gonna be alright.  He come and gone.  Gone where I'm going to go.  Like a big brother that takes off for life.  Ever lasting life.  I draw a huge knife from it's safe place and slice it across the main stalk of the broccoli.  My in-laws like a choppier salad.  Light, jazzy, and late, worship at Our Savior Lutheran await followed by a grateful lunchtable in the north Collin County countryside.  Chocolate and ham destined to be the main memories of the day.  Grandpa Jim collected around $35 in can money through the year to be hidden in plastic eggs.  We'll scatter them around one acre of the 7-acre spread.  Stockwell Acres.  MaMa will watch from the porch and smile.  Perhapes wave a hand.  "Go on and get 'em.  Ha!".  She understands the battle that was fought and won.  She is still fighting death, as we all are.  This is her 95th Easter morning.  I wonder how she made her macaroni and cheese so crusty.