valley of democracy no. 34

by rawclyde!

~

So I’m on my 2nd day of listening to the wind talk

out here in the bush, the cacti, lizard, bird & rock

a rare vehicle moans on the dirt road out yonder

I can’t see it, it can’t see me, out here is where I wonder

~

The message of the Indian is a tearful cry for our sweet Earth

it’s a frustrated message gagged by an ongoing technological birth

in a noisy society that consumes away & thinks God is dead

too late, you’ll learn to pray when the planet ceases to keep you fed

~

But you’ve heard this before, my talk is nothin’ new

the birds talk, the wind talks, ants prob’ly talk too

we’re all talkin’ to nitwit noisy boys just like You

but you’re plugged into TV, that’s quite a campfire you got fuckin’ you

~

Blow it all away, the planet will still be here

it’ll cleanse itself of your rot with one long drowning tear

so another civilization will bite the dust, no big deal

go ahead, make more money, work harder, ride the spinning wheel

~

from a love song to the american lizard

by rawclyde!

(Copyright Clyde Collins 1999)

valley of democracy no. 32

rawclyde

!

Water, candles, tobacco, coffee & a little bit of food

this is heaven, let me tell yuh, & plenty books on which to brood

sittin’ here, way out here, in the middle of a starry night

warmin’ up some coffee in the tall flame candle light

~

The desert is quiet as a shooting star, a crawling ant

no motors, no traffic, no people, no Tower o’ Babel chant

just me here & a thousand cacti standing around outside

sending me telepathic choruses of “dig on the quiet, Clyde”

~

Every once in a while I like to take a couple days off

can’t afford four this week or beef stroganoff

but I can sit gratefully in the midst of Jehovah’s gift

a kind gentle place where my mind can ring like a bell or just drift

(copyright clyde collins 1999)

broken telephone

~

VALLEY o’ DEMOCRACY #31

rawclyde

!

~

Sitting in the desert wacking-off don’t really do it for me

it woulda’ been betta’ to have let ‘de first one lead me to matrimony

n’ I shoulda’ finished college n’ chewed steadily on ‘de ol’ job bone

but after all that, I still coulda’ ended up in ‘de desert alone

~

In the desert alone, in the desert alone, in the desert alone

that’s what ‘de message say when you call me on ‘de broken telephone

he ain’t here no mo’ n’ nobudda’ stop him when he done go

he shoulda’ woulda’ coulda’ but the wind do-done blow

~

No buddy really care n’ I don’t expect any buddy to

I jus’ writin’ fo’ me but if ye’ want ye’ can read it too

I ‘tink a man ought learn to stand alone to a certain degree

I may be over doin’ it, but so be in-div-i-du-al-i-ty

~

True love wit’ a woman gotta be ‘de greatest thing on earth

n ‘de nex’ greatest ‘ding must be when she up n’ give birth

to a kid or two or 10 ‘dat you both can call yer own

but me, well, fo’ me ‘dat ain’t how ’til now me life hath grown

~

Remembuh too ‘dat each kid born ‘eez anudder belly to feed

n’ yo’ gonna have tuh work haw’d to fulfill ‘dat ‘dare need

as fo’ me, I gotta kinda work haw’d too jus’ stayin’ alive

gotta theenk sum & do sum things right jus’ to, uh, to so’vive

~

And know ‘dis:  ye don’t have ‘tuh get rich to be, to be happy

jus’ keep ‘de family or jus’ yourself goin’ & keep kinda scrappy

n’ remembuh love of sum kind for sumpin’ is yor’ link to God

God & nature are yo’ foundation; remembuh give ’em an occasional nod

~

In fact, why not keep ’em in mind always & serve ’em when ‘evah yuh can

make yo’ life into a natchural prayer ~ dat’s ‘de best way to be a man

a prayer dat’s alive every second, trippin’ & fallin’ down

n’ gettin’ up n’ amblin’ along n’ sleepin’ in your burrow in ‘de ground

~

These things I been contemplatin’ for some time in ‘de desert here

n’ fo’ God’s sake n’ yer own, please, don’t guzzle too much beer

thar’s already too many drunks staggerin’ ’round full o’ baloney

ready to take yer money in exchange for nuttin’ but a “thanks” dats phoney

~

In fact, dat’s a great disrespect to their own poverty

treatin’ it like dirt n’ fallin’ down on responsibility

if yer not rich, treat your poverty like a blessed thing

n’ it’ll treat you right most times n’ hand n’ hand with it ye can sing:

~

~

I’m a po’ man but I don’t care, I’m a po’ man, a po’ man

I’m a po’ man but I shan’t care, I’m a po’ man, a po’ man

I’m a po’ man ‘dat nobudduh’ care ’bout, po’ man, po’ man

I’m one blessed po’ man though, so, catch me if you cannnnnnn

Little Coyote

“Tear out my heart and toss it into the air!”

valley of democracy no. 28

rawclyde

!

Welllllll, let’s race on out for a little more

kick up some dust & even ye olde score

Yeeeeeeeah, everything & buddy has cracks n’ faults

so let’s leave the blues in the dust of Deep Desert Waltz

~

I grab a bottle, say “adios” to my Indian pal

scoot on out without much money or a big plump gal

too many memories of Ms. Beauty ends that before it starts

come on, lad, let’s flee the scams of them plump broken-hearts

~

They’re warm & kind but the lean are laying around inside my mind

of course, thorny sagory cacti is the only lean I find

when I low-tail it behind the mountain and around the bend

cheers!  welcome to quaint solitude, my weary friend

~

I turn off the engine, hop out, crunch alone and along

make so much noise I hear no desert song

I pull out a paper to roll a flabbergasted smoke

it crinkles so loud I cringe at Christ’s happy go lucky joke

~

My only security is the Big Dipper in the sky

which is all I want spittin’ in my eye

as it grows dark Christ knows what I mean

so does Holy Mary, a kind n’ gentle human being

(Copyright Clyde Collins 1999)