with this new day came
with more oxygen and  brain
with more tingling
with more you

off the suns rays brightening
off your face lovely
off these eyes of mine
off into my mind

where lovely is
where it really is
where beautiful resides
where love sometimes shines

Should a primitive tribe be civilized?
Are we civilized or savage?

Leave them the aborigines to their home
in peace
their abode in the depth of forest.

But where's their abode?
we cut the jungle and made road
where would their babies be born?
in the smoke of engines blaring of horns
so hard for them to birth
on the dwindling patch of their earth
our Paleolithic ancestors' living fossils
who with iron will
fought bullets with bows and arrows
now falling by the bullies of progress
begging for last living space.

Leave them the way they lived so long
unspoiled with their own education and culture
let them retain their own way of life
and not make them civilized the way we are.

You’ve got to get in from the start

Girl, love, mortgage, house

The trip has begun

Seat belt on

Forget the plan

The roller coaster will take you up

But not for long

Life's like that

Tells you in the song

Ok, we’re heading down

Is that a frown

Look around

Girl gone

Love

Off with Joe

House

You don’t want to know

No mortgage though

Now, was that a thrill

All the fun of the fair

What, bitter pill

She isn't there

That’s the roller coaster

High and low

No one knows

New woman

Don’t try to explain

Seat belt on

Let me introduce the ghost train.

While loving,
Give yourself fully,
Love thy friend completely,
Do not give room for hate.
For us to make a better world,
We need to love,
Love wholeheartedly

*Ovi Odiete©

We walked two miles through July wheat fields
that undulated  beneath Sunday morning sun
like golden swans.

The pond was glacier stone smooth, and canopied
by silver maple and swamp oak; willows lined
the  banks.

Miriam unfastened her hair, tossed her blouse
over my shoulders,  kicked her cut-offs
toward the boat’s bow,

and dove.

.

I remember that old electric guitar,
no name brand, a Fender knockoff,
stripped and painted
to look like an American flag
because Peter Fonda made it cool

That Silvertone amp, volume cranked
reverb, two inputs, tubes, bass, treble,
when Sears was the place where
music dreams came alive
because Dad had a credit card

Out in my parent’s garage,
Skippy on drums and John on bass
Wearing shades in the dark like John Kay
A tape recorder mike hanging from the ceiling
Playing “The Pusher” at all hours

Until the neighbors called my mom
and we had to shut the door
or turn it down, we shut the door
Black light posters, an old couch,
power saws and Christmas decorations

We were gonna be stars, rock stars
Chicks would dig us and guys would envy us
Our hair down to our shoulders
Incense to hide certain smells
Bad *** wasn’t even a term yet, but we were

Patch covered jeans, zig zag
and faded denim jackets,
peace signs and headbands,
Santana and Arlo, “Alice’s Restaurant”
Nothing could stop us

I remember that old electric guitar,
the guys are gone now, not dead, just gone
I can still hear Alvin Lee rocking “I’m coming home”
But somewhere along the line I got old (grew up)
when I wasn’t paying attention I guess

I still wear my hair a little long, a little
and I have nice collection of guitars
But that “Rock Star” dream faded long ago
Now I carry a different instrument,
I carry a pen...

and it’s a name brand pen

Dead grass crunches beneath our feet
Wild onion rules the breeze
Winter arbors lay exposed and barren
Gravel roads are hard packed , abandoned
Capricious Blackbirds hold their power line
perch , day runs quiet across the frozen earth* ..