shepherdess hearkening to her voices

~

by Sister Teresa

Carmelite of Lisieux

1907

~

Happy, happy am I,
Jeanne the shepherdess!
How swift my lambkins fly
To meet my kind caress.

How light my little crook;
How cool this verdant grove,
Beside whose babbling brook
In solitude I rove.

A lovely crown I weave
Of field-flowers, fair and sweet;
What joy is mine to leave
That crown at Mary’s feet!

Oh, how I love the flowers,
The birds, the rippling stream
The skies above these bowers
As fair as angel’s dream.

The valleys and the rills
Rejoice my longing eyes;
The summits of the hills,
They seem to touch the skies!

But hark! What voices come
Upon the evening breeze?
Do angels seek my home
With melodies like these?

I question air and space,
I gaze into the skies;
And yet no slightest trace
Of angels greets my eyes.

Ah, past those clouds that bar
And veil them from my sight,
Would I might fly afar
To realms of radiant light!

~

http://saint-joan-of-arc.com/index.htm

~

old timer post editor / rawclyde!

tower of babel no. 31

from a love song to the american lizard 1999

by rawclyde

!

Jus’ cruisin’ along the beckoning flame tips of hell

jus’ cruisin’ while listening to ye olde cathedral bell

it rings such a quaint tune in my increasingly empty head

I could be workin’, but I’m not, I’m cruisin’ instead

~

Thru the desolate empty canyons of time and space

floatin’ along with my handsome smiling face

smiiiiiiiling at all the critters I see along the way

human and otherwise, they smile back, ‘cuz I’m cruisin’ today

~

Whoa, where’d ‘dis new two-hundred-dollar engine part come from

dat’s sittin’ in ‘de passenger seat so steel, sleek, and dumb?

my oh my, its manufactured by ‘de Big Machine i’m surrounded by

n’ its gonna get hooked onto Her little machine ‘dat I’m drivin’ ‘neath duh sky

~

‘Tis almost time for me to go to the valley below

where ‘dis Tower o’ Babel ‘dat I’m quick-sanded by, will no longer glow

believe me, this pretty city done give me quite a bruizin’

but it also do, so true blue, help me keep bountifully crewwwsin’

~

Now, inside each human skull is a pebble rattling around

it’s called Imagination, & in this pebble can be found

a little germ sittin’ behind a windshield lookin’ out

and what you come up with next is what this little spy sees all about

~

Now, if you feed your Imagination ‘de proper fuel

your little pebble spacecraft might cruise pretty cool

right into a realm real as the material world all around

a realm most people can’t see & ‘dat don’t make a sound

~

And that’s where Mother Mary somewhat contrary can be found

with her angels and saints and little halos hoovering all around

playin’ jacks n’ shootin’ marbles with all ‘de twinkling stars

while you’re cruisin’ ‘de avenue surrounded by all ‘deeze funky cars

~

Jus’ cruisin’ around n’ around ‘dis Tower o’ Babel

jus’ cruisin’, avoidin’ the babble whenever I’m able

jus’  cruisin’ like an arrow disappearin’ into the void

one of these days I won’t come back, oh holy mergatroid!

~

text: copyright clyde collins 1999

master of the world

Jules Verne illustration

tower of babel no. 17

~

You just can’t fight civilization, it’s all over the planet now

so I best take a bath or I’ll get no smile with my chow

damn it, it’s a hell of a situation to be in, I swear

taking a bath in a cereal bowl, gotta grin n’ not despair

~

Little monkey up the park tree offer his shaky hand

to ‘de big dog barking below so fierce & grand

peacock with feathers spread out like a masterpiece fan

strut around like he most colorful puke in theese land

~

You just can’t fight civilization, it’s too damn big a beast

so I pour water into the bowl halfway to ‘de brim at least

soap up, rinse, pour dirty water into shit bucket behind ‘de door

repeat this action a few mo’ times without spilling water on ‘de floor

~

Once two curious crows with hello squawks fly over my head

cactus wren jump outta hole up in cactus onto branch wish I was dead

lets me know too, balls me out and angrily flies around

I just stand there with a mug of whiskey & coke & don’t make a sound

~

Here in the city with rubbing alcohol I cut the soap grease

give me-self one more rub-down, put on clean clothes that got a crease

lock up the truck, go eat, waitress is friendly as can be

I’m just an old rubber tramp but she treats me quite royally

~

No, you can’t fight civilization, who wants to anyway?

Just roll with the punch & go eat lunch, that’s what I say

birds, rocks, trees, individuals everywhere have a role to play

The Spirit That Moves In All Things made it that o’ way…

~

from an out-of-print book

A Love Song To The American Lizard

by Rawclyde!

(Copyright Clyde Collins 1999)

~

art:

an old Jules Verne concoction

~

valley of democracy no. 30

rawclyde

!

Now I can say I’ve experimented with poverty

here in the shameless Valley of Our Democracy

and, you know, poverty really isn’t such a bad gal

if you respect her & are willing to be her pal

~

Dad Dole & Brother Bill had their election today

we’re all fond of Dad but Bill is here to stay

Dole & the World War II generation are on their way

I wish ’em luck beyond the veil & have appreciated their worthy say

~

But it’s time for us jolly bahbah boomers to get on our feet

& drive the Valley of Democracy to the next track meet

& there we will win or lose in the great game of our planet’s life

so may God help your kids while Lucifer is pokin’ yer wife

(Copyright Clyde Collins 1999)

valley o’ democracy no. 29

rawclyde

!

Lizard babe, just crawl into my beckoning hand

we’ll dart from bush to bush across this thorny land

we’ll make love below the Big Dipper in the diamondy sky

lizard babe, jus’ cuz’ you got funky scales, don’t be shy

~

You’re such a lean reptile with such a slender tail

when you dart n’ wiggle it my heart do almost fail

from lot to lot I love to watch you swiftly go

’til you scamper back and finally let me knowwwwwww

!

I’m the one for you when you’re all wore out

jus’ wiggle all over my face & I won’t shout

I’ll lick you clean of all the mean that you have glean

’til you’ve forgotten every other man you have ever seen

~

Lizard babe, let me be your desert squirrel

let me welcome you into my underground burrow

you can curl up next to me for all of eternity

and still go out & run from camp to camp gleefully

(Copyright Clyde Collins 1999)

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)