Buddy buddy hear me my friend,
what I have to say, what I have to send,
a ray of sunlight packed in a bag of clouds,
and a drop of rain, before it falls down

You see these gifts are so small and so few,
but you will mix them holding in front of you,
when the sun and water’s children shall meet,
will grow a rainbow in your hand so sweet

I hope this will make you remember me,
in good times we will together be,
for never shall I be apart,
I say this truly with all my heart.

ǝsınbsıp-ɟןǝs uʍo ʎɯ ʇsoן ı uǝɥʍ
ʎןɟ oʇ uɹɐǝן ı pıp ʎןʞɔınb puɐ
ʇǝǝɟ ʎɯ ʇobɹoɟ ı 'ʇɥbıu buıǝq
ʇǝǝɹʇs ʎʇdɯǝ uɐ uo ǝuoןɐ pǝɔuɐp ı

ɹǝʇʇǝq sıɥʇ ǝʞɐɯ oʇ ǝɹısǝp ɐ ǝɯɐɔ
sɹǝʇʇǝן puɐ sǝʞoɹʇs ǝɥʇ ɟo ןןɐ ɥbnoɹɥʇ
ɯɹoɟ oʇ uıbǝq ןnos ʎɯ ʍɐs ı puɐ
pǝɯɹoʇs sʇǝןǝʇɐןd ǝɥʇ ǝɔuǝןıs ןnɟʇɥbnoɥʇ uı

pɐǝʇsuı ʎןɟ sʍoquıɐɹ ʍɐs ı ʇnq
pǝɹ pǝןq pooןq ǝɥʇ ɥbnoɹɥʇ puɐ ssoɹɔɐ
ǝbɐɔ ǝɥʇ ɯoɹɟ ɟןǝsʎɯ pǝsɐǝןǝɹ puɐ
ǝbɐd ǝɥʇ uo ʇno ʇɹɐǝɥ ʎɯ ʇnd ı

ǝɔɐןd ǝןzznd sʇı uı ʇı ʞɔnʇs puɐ
ǝɔɐɟ sʇı uo ʇı pǝddıןɟ ı uǝɥʇ
uʍoɹɔ oʇ ǝoʇ 'ןǝǝɥ oʇ pɐǝɥ
uʍop ǝpısdn ɯǝod ɐ ǝʇoɹʍ ı

They baptized all us children
At that old country church
They saved this wild young crazy man
From going bad to worse
That old preacher took my hand there
And he walked me to the creek
When he dipped me in the water
He knew who I would meet...

I'LL ALWAYS LOVE
OLD SWEETWATER CHURCH
THEY TAUGHT ME I SHOULD LOVE THE LORD
AND PUT MY NEIGHBOR FIRST
IF YOU EVER DRINK THE WATER
IT SURE WILL EASE YOUR THIRST
I'LL ALWAYS LOVE
OLD SWEETWATER CHURCH

When we sung Amazing Grace
We sung it from the heart
The words from that old preacher man
They always hit their mark
We could feel that spirit move us
Up there on our front row seat
That good old time religion lives
In that chapel by the creek

CHORUS

Bridge:    
Now sometimes when I wander
Too far from the truth
I look back and remember
The lessons of my youth.....

CHORUS

From a song with vocalist Jeff Allen

As a boy I whistled in the dark
Walking by those tall tombstones
When I'd glance at that old graveyard
Frigid air would freeze my bones
As a man I've never been that scared
Till I saw your closet bare
I felt like that boy at midnight
Seeking courage with a prayer

I'm whistling by the tombstones again
Since I hurt you and you left me
I can feel that icy wind
I'll never make it through
Tomorrows without you
I'm whistling by the tombstones again

In my mind I miss your pretty face
And my backbone feels a chill
I tremble like that lonesome boy
Passing cemetery hill
If you don't come back it's darker
Than those graveyard fantasies
Cause it's just a grim tomorrow
Unless your dreams including me

So please don't say that little fuss
Could end our fairytale
All my life I'd be whistling down
Life's long long lonesome trail

I'm whistling by the tombstones again
Since I hurt you and you left me
I can feel that icy wind
I'll never make it through
Tomorrows without you
I'm whistling by the tombstones again


Copyright Louis Brown

To what is my gaze affixed this time
The slowly rotting fruit of eye
A man lay prone upon the floor
Writhes in pain consumed in lore
With every inch he sows the stitch
A futile race to cure the itch
An infestation underneath
Of a million little squirming teeth
His conscious lost, the dark he drinks
A heavy black, to his pit it sinks

As tumors form upon his ***
And shock runs through a cattle ****
They weigh him down, tie to the floor
And loose his error from every pore
And on every tile the liquid ran
For every length and every span
And one could see there in his eye
A thousand holy hopes had died
And if ever this just a sordid dream
I’ll never forget their thousand screams

Such it was as I looked into
This gate of soul and bid adieu
And from the plane I looked away
From the blur of silver gray
And as I turned toward the world
The image caught, never swirled
And every moment I do wake
Of this vision I do take
And every moment that I think
Of this liquid I do drink

How can You criticize the beast
You made with Your two hands
And fault him for his foibles
When he disrupts Your plans
He can't escape his draw backs
His skills and mind are weak
Before he bit the apple
He could have used a tweak
He only feeds the hungers
You programmed in his brain
He has two strikes against him
It's almost inhumane
We're dumb to **** each other
But You sowed every seed
So take him back into Your shop
Perfect him to succeed
You can't expect that much
From nothing but a dunce
If You can see the future
Please get it right for once



Copyright Louis Brown

I like a bowl of collards
You like brussel sprouts
You have a taste for cognac
Jim Beam just knocks me out
You went to that big college
I flunked the seventh grade
We ain't got much in common
Till we pull down the shades


CHORUS:
THE ATTRACTION OVERCOMES THE WALLS BETWEEN US
TO UNDERSTAND OUR BOND WON'T TAKE A GENIUS
OUR LIVES ARE CONTRADICTIONS
BUT THE FUN OUTWEIGHS THE FRICTION
THE ATTRACTION OVERCOMES THE WALLS BETWEEN US


In our healthy love-hate thang
Sometimes hell breaks loose
But when the big moon rises
We wave a flag of truce
Our fussing's just a pastime
Between the mountain peaks
But by evening time we  tangle
And the making up is sweet


CHORUS


BRIDGE:  It's natural to differ
                  But the difference ain't too big
                  We meet right in the middle
                  When it's time to build a bridge


CHORUS

Hot today
Road-crossing slow
Couples snail-walk
Love on show

Buses queued
Shoppers bagged
Cars throb-beat
Traffic drag

Mid-road-island
Man is lost
Tiny dog
Seeks lamppost

Time getaway
Stop revolve
Go home vicar
Mystery solved

Is this the end
Of which you spake -
The wind's alarm,
The night's opaque,
The city's blind,
The people dim,
(The ambulence offers
The final hymn)
My soul run down,
Run out of light -
Or just bad weather,
And the winter night?

Above the sea there flew a lonely hawk,
so far away from home, too far to walk.
The fish he caught he did not like to eat
and all that he could think about was meat.

He was upon a ship with men with tats,
and there could eat his fill with lots of rats.
But then the ship, it struck a rock and sank,
and from then on, the rest of life, it stank.

Let’s do something stupid, but just once or twice
If you make the memory then I’ll pay the price
Like free falling from bridges through the crisp air
Like shadows and mirrors I’ll always be there.

Let’s do something stupid, but just once or twice
If you take the pleasure I’ll take the vice
Like word stalling in obscure areas under soft lights
Like tossing and turning, big spoon, little spoon at night

Let’s do something stupid, but just once or twice
If we break things together, if we roll the dice
When things go bad you know there is a stain
But the things that we’ve done will be worth the pain

Let’s do something stupid, but just once or twice
Because we wake and both know the devil makes thrice
Let’s run amok, let’s head-bang, let’s party
Let’s make a night to ourselves before things get ******

Let’s do something stupid, but just once or twice
Let’s do anything, anywhere, let’s throw in some spice
Let’s be foolish and daring and careless and free
Whatever we do is all right with me
Do everything everywhere, let it be loud
But let’s do it together, let’s do it right now.

All defined, labeled, identified.
like quiet children who stand aside,
                                                    Silent as a dusty book,
Captivated by their own shoes,
must be pardoned, must be excused.
Those who mumble and avoid your eyes,
them do not mind, they’re just shy.

Imagine if everything still and reserved
Were undermined by such a word.
What would we say of those calm characters
mountains, towers, poetry, flowers?
If perchance one afternoon we met the horizon or the moon,
Are we to say that because often they stand away,
Afar in photos, landscapes, scenery,
off center, silent, beyond the sea,
That these defining features of the sky
Should be cast off and labeled shy?

Those amongst us, who silently
Live largely in their reverie,
Hiding behind their books and journals,
Heard not, but for the scratch of their pencils,
Will name you someday;
They'll have something undeniably brilliant to say.
Should you disagree, consider and think,
Violent, boisterous thunder is the voice of silent-seeming lightning.

He moved into the dead rose
red paint that peeled
into dust under our squeaking rubber soles,
framed by white lines, dictators, rules.
End lines like yellow tape,
Do Not Cross over.
One step past my scramble;
one foot, hark on its toes,
grows from the red; two
white leather flower pots
for his pulsing hairy legs.
He had paused with a purpose,
it seems, he teased,
then bounced rubber rock on rock
before he looked back at me.
Hovered by his shadow and
the hoop that crowned his head,
I lunged to take a risk.
In the name of all those 5 foot 4,
I threw my hand through
the shape his elbow formed,
cutting edge with cutting edge,
with swift. I’d managed to learn
the burn of rubber escaping
my fingertips. I’d touched
what was his, this giant hoop tyrant,
but would soon claim what was mine.
My chest sunk back into my frame
deflated of hope and pride,
only to be filled instead with shame,
while his song –grunt, swish, clap, YES –played,
and belittled by his High Five.