in memoriam Woodrow (Woody) Rifenburgh*      

The soft purr of a Piper Cub
drifted over Italy's southern hills.
Soul stirred by the landscape’s song,  
the young army pilot gently spoke.

“It’s mighty peaceful up here.”

Touching wheels to the tarmac,
Woody shed his flight suit
for an engineer’s desk
and placed a viola beneath his chin.

For three score years
Woody molded horsehair and wire into string song
steadying the orchestra’s midriff
with the vibrations of his spirit.

On Christmas Eve he played for the coming child,
fell stricken and flew his last flight
on instruments at Memorial.  

Early New Year’s morn one could almost hear
the faint soft purr of a Piper Cub
as it banked to the right around the moon
and merged with the waiting heavens.

you left your imprint
on mother earth herself
in our hearts you left your voice
you gifted us with melodies
of most valuable wealth
charismatic grace across the stage
you never did it for fame
originality legendary perfection
spiritual soulful being of peace
from the very first note we heard
music hasn't been the same since
others may have had their King
but we had our Prince
humbled at the idea
success doesn't mean it's over
and openly giving your life to Jehovah
doing good deeds behind the scenes
you were careful and serene
artist first, entertainer came next
you never disappointed the world
until the day you left

and here we all join hands and reminisce
oh the years you got us through
joy, love, hurt, progression
defeating the evils of the industry
giving us hope in oppression
and as we watch the doves cry
we wipe our tears too
how much you're adored
if you only knew
the thunder rolls and we feel the first drops begin to fall
it doesn't erase the emptiness one bit
but it brings us to a crawl
you never meant to cause us any sorrow
you never meant to cause us any pain
so we will be here
bathing in the Purple Rain.

We love you forever Prince Rogers Nelson.

do not fall in love with a musician because they will play you like a symphony.

they will get to know every enchanting note of you. they will find parts of you in which they must get improve but in the process they will resent you for this.

they will caress your heart with their suites and sonatas. they will gently hold your hips as you would the curves of a violin. they will *******, sweetly, slowly, then presto, with fire. they will make love with you, but not to you. they will play beautiful concertos with your body but they will not dedicate a single note nor rhythm to you.

they will finish playing you when they become tired of hearing your melody. they will leave you in a folder or a case somewhere where you will never be played again.


-m. j. g.

little girl blue,

They reminisce over you,
In the cosmic blues,
A star before the fire sparked,
consistent front page news.

A heart of golden rock and roll,
Nothing stopping you.
The pain inside took its toil,
the grain in your voice and tortured soul,
stole us all from you.

It was time that took your life,
In the the time of your life
You wanted to be loved so much,
but not enough to change your mind.

Now you are a shooting star,
that burnt out years before,
Captured in the music left,
that all of us adore.

Hear my voice.
It starts from the lungs and propels through my throat
Rattles my trachea and obeys the manipulation of my oral cavity
Next on up through that of another vessel
Incessantly passing through the body
Behind furious fingers articulating words from a soulful dictionary
And out through the
Liberty
Bell.
Listen to my voice.
Its timbre is not that of natural beings, but
the content flows from my brain as a second nature
My instrument is my vessel,
My opportunity to voice that which cant be spoken.
Listen and be heard.

i went down to florida
and came back with pneumonia,
maybe due to my life so busy
running and running and getting so dizzy,
always managing to stay on track
costing my sleep to be in major lack,
pushing myself past every limit
enjoying it all and never feeling timid,
but everyone said i'd eventually hit a wall
i guess they were right after all.

We want labels to advance our musical careers
But we don't want labels upon us as people
A rock and a hard place for the most of us
In between Hell and Heaven
Is the fire going white now?
Because i'm losing my sight on it
Hopefully the visitors will return.

I watch you intensely,
And can't help but bite my lip.
You mesmerize me as you play.
Your hands dancing on the strings,
What would those hands do to me,
If I gave them one chance.
Would they roam my body with the same passion as they do those strings.

My breath hitches as you scream along with the song,
What would that voice do if I touched you,
Ran my hands along your body.

I watch you so closely.
Watching your face as you play.
For one brief second you look at me,
And my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.
I avoid your eyes, and watch your hands dance once more.