For sow the wiz and for that the bliss Flee through the apple tree It is harvest times Now jam and sweet like pie Oh the bliss of a midnight sky
We plied and plowed and for that the bliss Fill up a room, no one to miss It is now harvest times Us to remember the Queen of ages Don't forget to pay the wages Oh the bliss of lovers gazes
Further down the deep deep blue Of ocean wonders, to remind of all the ships that went through Rough patches of ill willed weather and stormy faiths I hope we all remember that it is to Christ we stand our faith
Oh the bliss of Life Oh the bliss of Faith
Oh the bliss of Summers mother leaving heaps of Love on the stairs For those who not have the bliss of being sometimes missed By someone who actually cares even just a little bear lonely in the woods a quiet autumn afternoon Not knowing when winter starts or when to say hello to the moon
Who to say good night, good morning or good bye When you are a lonely cub in the woods and your mama was a wish on a star.
Not sure what this is. Maybe some inner child thing talking? Sometimes i just write what comes up in my head. a And here is something I just wrote. Hope someone finds it worthy and feel something...
I followed a boy on his impromptu journey to the forest (or at least what I once thought it was).
he walked with a nonchalant disposition without saying any word. his gestures demonstrated it all.
it’s ludicrous that I reluctantly stepped forward to the vast and dense forest in front of me. I was not scared at all. I discovered amity within the zigzagging branches and peace in this endless labyrinth.
and after a long and intense journey, the dazzling sunlight captures his figure: his tanned skin was wrapped by falling leaves, laying down at the top of the rock (in which I always wonder to see what he’s dreaming).
for once in my life, never have I thought silence could be so much pleasing as that.
Tonight I stayed at work until 7:00. It was dark when I locked the front doors. Winter approaches again, soon the great coat huddled like a rug around me. The streets were active as usual, block residents hanging out front steps. I said goodnight to Nydian Figueroa, after school counselor. I bought a beer at the deli on Third Ave. from the Arab owner. He’s a bit upset about the bottle bill. Collecting bottles from small groceries could be a useful youth employment enterprise. I walked down Fifth along the park in the dark drinking my beer and looking at women. I need a good **** badly. I tried to decide whether to go to the movies, a Hopi film Howard recommended, or just go home, watch tv and light a candle. Maybe I’d meet someone at the film. Can I handle the malady of going home tonight? If I die, I die alone. I turned west toward the subway past the museum, through the park. I can’t look at the myriad lights in buildings large enough to hold a small town. It increases my anxiety and anonymity to the breaking point. I hoped to be mugged, for the human contact. Two big guys looked me over, but I lowered my center of gravity and they passed quietly. Survival feels fine, proves I am alive. The white pines in this corner of the park hold a cool, earthy air reminding me of coming winter, that mortality is restful, of the black bear and swollen river I saw 500 miles away and only one day ago.