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JOJO C PINCA Nov 2017
“It's being here now that's important. There's no past and there's no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can't relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don't know if there is one.”

― George Harrison

Ang kamusmusan daw ang pundasyon kung gusto mo’ng magkaroon ng matibay na kinabukasan. Dahil ang isipan daw ng isang paslit ay tulad sa Tabula Rasa (blank slate) na magandang sulatan ‘pagkat tiyak ang kalinisan. Nasa labi ng isang musmos ang katotohanan at nakikita nang kanyang mga mata ang malinaw na mga kaganapan at naririnig n’ya ang bawat katagang binibigkas dalisay man ito o masama nang walang halong alinlangan.

Subalit may mga paslit na hindi na makikita ang kanilang kinabukasan dahil maagang nawawala ang kanilang buhay. May mga paslit na sa muarang edad ay marami ng lamat ‘pagkat dangal nila’y hinapak ng mga hinayupak. Mga inosenteng paslit na dahil sa maling pagkonsenti nang mga hangal na magulang ay naging mga pasaway at salot sa lipunan. Naging sinungaling ang kanilang mga murang labi kaya’t natutong magtahi ng mga k’wentong mali. Naging mapurol at mabalasik na tulad sa isang asong ulol.

Nagsisiksikan sila sa mga madidilim na eskinita habang sumisinghot ng solvent at lumalaklak ng syrup. Nagumon sa bisyo at kalaswahan, binaon sila ng sistema. Naging mga dilingkwenti at walang kwenta. Nasayang na buhay, nasayang na panahon. Ang iba ay bigla na lang tumutumba kapag tinamaan ng bala o di kaya ay nahagip ng saksak sa tagiliran. Mga makabagong desaparecidos na bigla na lang naglalaho sa dilim ng gabi.

Hindi ko na mabilang ang mga eksena sa telibisyon na tulad nito: binatilyo nawawala, dinukot daw nang mga di-kilalang lalake makalipas ang ilang araw natagpuan na patay. Binaril, tinadtad ng saksak. Riot sa kanto mga kabataan nagsagupaan. Nagpaluan, nagsaksakan at may nagpaputok pa ng baril – patay bumulagta na lang bigla. Sabi ni Rizal ang kabataan ang pag-asa ng bayan; hindi mali ka Pepe, ang kabataan ay hindi pagasa ng bayan kundi sila na ang panlaban sa mga sagupaan. May mga pick-up girls na nahuli sa kalye, ilan taon daw ito? Disisyete anyos lang, putang-ina naman hija kabata-bata mo pa bakit naging pakantot kana? Grabe! May gatas ka pa sa labi puro kantutan na ang alam mo bwesit kang bata ka.

Mga kabataan na pag-asa sana ng inang bayan bakit kayo nagkaganyan? Hindi n’yo ba naiisip ang iyong magiging kinabukasan? Bakit kayo nagpapatangay sa mga tuksuhan at mga walang kwentang huntahan? Meron pa kayong mapupuntahan, ang kabiguan ay hindi isang hangganan. Umahon kayo sa pagkakalugmok habang meron pang paraan. H’wag n’yo sanang sayangin ang inyong buhay.
JOJO C PINCA Nov 2017
"A spectre is haunting Europe"
- Communist Manifesto

Ang multong gumagala noon sa Europa ay hindi parin natatahimik. Hanggang ngayon ay patuloy itong gumagala at nanggagambala. Hindi n’ya pinatatahimik ang mga burgis at elitista. Kaya’t patuloy na nagsasabwatan ang ibat-ibang kapangyarihan sa lipunan upang labanan ang multong ito at hadlangan ang kanyang paggala. Ang mga lider ng relihiyon, ang mga kapitalista, ang mga namumuno sa gobyerno na panay oportunista, ang pasistang militar, ang pulisya pati na ang midya lahat sila ay nagsasamasama upang kalabanin ang multong gumagala.

Nasaan na ang tunay na partido ng mga manggagawa na kinakatawan ng multong gumagala? Nasaan na ang mga rebolusyunaryo at mga aktibista na kakalaban sa bulok na Sistema? Bakit hanggang ngayon ay namamayani parin ang naghaharing mapagsamantalang uri? Kinain na ba kayo ng maling sistema at ngayo’y naaagnas na rin?

Nang bumagsak ang Rusya at lumihis ang Tsina ay nagdiwang ang mga imperyalista. Akala nila ito na ang wakas nang paggala ng multo, subalit nabigo sila at nagmukhang mga asong hangal na kumakahol sa sariling suka. Pagkat nagpatuloy ang multo sa kanyang paggala at ibayong lagim ang kanyang dala-dala. Subalit bakit tanong nila?

Simple lang ang dahilan:

Hanggat laganap ang kahirapan at hindi pagkakapantay-pantay hindi sila patatahimikin ng multong gumagala. Patuloy nitong uusigin ang budhi ng mga ganid at sakim sa kayamanan.

Hanggat ang biyaya ng lupa ay hindi nakakamtan ng lahat ng tao ay patuloy itong magmumulto.

Hanggat ang mga manggagawa ay hindi gumiginhawa hindi mananawa ang multo na magpaalala sa kanila na patuloy nilang igiit at ipaglaban ang kanilang mga karapatan na s’yang nararapat.

Patuloy na gumagala ang multo ng Komunismo na nagmula pa sa Europa kailanman hindi nito patatahimikin ang mga sakim sa yaman at sukaban sa kapangyarihan.
Mel-VS-the-World Apr 2018
“Hayaan mo na lang ako matulog.”


Eto ang realidad,
Ng mundo,
Dahan-dahang pumapalibot sa atin,
Ano bang mali sa’kin?
Sobrang layo pa ng hinaharap,
At hindi ko maisip kung ano ba dapat ko maging.
Ano ba dapat **** gawin?
Marami nang nangyare,
At ano pa ba ang pwedeng maganap?
Magkukulong sa sulok,
At magmumukmok,
Naka-ilang hithit-buga na ng yosi,
Baka sakaling makalimot.
Naka-ilang bote na ng alak,
Pampakalma sa pusong kumakabog.
Hindi mo mapigil ang pag-tulo ng luha,
Isa-isang nawawalan ng kislap ang mga tala sa iyong mata.
Nawalan na ng liwanag ang buwan,
At ang araw ay hindi na sikat,
Naghalo ang amoy ng dagat at ulan,
Sumingaw mula sa mainit na lupa parang naagnas na katawan.
Lalabanan ba ang apoy?
O hahayaan lamunin ka at matupok?
Lalangoy ba kasabay ng mga alon?
O handa ka nang malunod at mabulok sa kailaliman?
Hanggang sa hindi na ma-iahon.
Marami ang nagtatanong,

“Mahalaga pa ba ang nakaraan?”

Kung ang hinaharap ay nagtatago sa likod ng kasalukyang puno ng kirot at hirap,
Hinagpis at galit,
Poot at pagkamuhi,
At sakit na walang lunas.

Mahalag ba ang nakaraan?
Maraming pagkakataon na ako ay lumipad,
Mula sa kalangitan, malaya ang diwang may pakpak,
Naglalangoy sa ulap ng kawalan.
Tanaw ko ang sanlibutan, nag-aaway,
Nag-papatayan, para sa ano?
Lupa? Pera? Para sa diyos na makapangyarihan?
Ngunit ang mahabaging diyos ay wala namang pakialam.
Wala naman dapat patunayan,
Wala naman dapat paglabanan.
Rinig mo ba ang ingay mula sa kabilang baryo,
Parang mga asong ulol, nagkumpulan at tumatahol.
Ako ay naglakad,
Saksi ang dalawang paa sa harapang pang-gagahasa ng mga higanteng buwaya; walang umalsa.
Natatakot sila.
Dahil sa mata ng nakararami,
Karahasan ang tama,
At hindi ang karapatan ng bawat isa.

Marami ng problema ang daigdig,
Dadagdag ka pa ba?
Iiwasan mo na ba o babalikan mo pa?
Pilit lumalayo,
Patuloy ang pagtakbo,
Ngunit hindi pa rin maabot ang dulo.
Hindi malaman kung saan patungo.
Dalhin mo ako sa lugar,
Kung saan mapayapa ang buhay,
At mayroong pag-ibig na tunay.
Dahil matagal nang may sindi ang nitsa,
Hihipan ko na ba?
O hahayaan na lang mamatay ng kusa parang paubos na kandila.

Dahil eto ang realidad,
Ng mundo,
Dahan-dahang pumapalibot sa atin,
Ano bang mali sa’kin?
Sobrang layo pa ng hinaharap,
At pagod na’ko magising,
Gusto ko na lamang umidlip at managinip,
Patungo sa paraisong ang ihip ng hangin ay malumanay,
At ang kulay ng paligid ay pagmamahal na dalisay.

“Hayaan mo na lang akong matulog. Kung sa aking pag-gising ay meron paring sakit, hayaan mo na lang akong matulog, dahil pagod na’ko magising.”

Hayaan mo na lang akong matulog.
Baka sakaling hindi ko na maramdaman ang sakit.

Hayaan mo na lang akong matulog.
Kahit ilang oras lang, iiwan ko ang mundong mapanakit.

Hayaan mo na lang ako.
Dahil gaya ng sabi mo,

“Sa sobrang hilig mo sa sleep, pwede ng ipalit ang pangalan mo sa salitang *ogip.”

Kaya hayaan mo na lang akong matulog,
Dahil pagod na’ko magising.
At ayoko nang magising.
mac azanes Aug 2017
Salamat sa humigit kumulang labin dalawang taon.
Sa pagiging isang alaga,
at mapag-alagang tuta.
Salamat sa pagiging bantay,
Ng bahay at  buhay.
Salamat sa pagpaparamdam,
Kung anu ang isang tunay na kaibigan.
Na iniiyakan at napagkukwentuhan,
Na sanay naiintindahan mo naman.
Siguro ngay wala ng pwedeng pumalit sayo.
Sa buhay ng mga taong binantayan mo.
At alam ko naman na ramdam mo,
Na ni minsan hindi ka nila naituring na iba gaya ng tao.
Salamat din kina,Sansa,Chester,Junjun, Panda,
At sa iba na hindi ko na nakilala.
Sa isang kaibigan na din nang iiwan,
Diba nga kahit sa paliguan ay kasama ka pa.
At hindi ka naman paborito,
Kasi nasa kwarto ka pag malamig ang klima.
At ngayon nga na wala kana.
Di mo maiaalis ang pangungulila,
At gabi na si Michelle ay lumuluha.
Salamat muli asong mapagkalinga.
Elizabeth Nov 2015
minahal mo ako
na parang asong
sabik sa buto.

kahit tira- tira
ng mga taong mahal ko,
kinakagat mo.
Pixie Dec 2012
The wind too has a story
Blowing from east to west
North to South
Seen it all but still blows all the same
Clearing the streets
Messing the streets

Cursed, Blessed
But it never stops blowing because
That's what its meant to do
Blow us happy
Blow us hysterical

Oh! How i could blow with the wind
Find you in your hiding
Blow you up happy
Blow you up crazy for me again

I'd refresh you with my cool breeze
Make a deal with the sun and the clouds
Blow you up cool on a hot day
blow you up warm on a cold day
Whatever the cost make you smile

If i were the wind
I'd clear all your cares and burdens
All your regrets
Mess you up with my pure love for you
Blow you you up content, restful, joyous

Just if i were the wind i would whistle in the chimney tops
Asong of mine true love
Lost but found
Make the whole world know
i am no ordinary wind
I am a freshly found breeze
In this climatic change heat
A wind of hope and love again
I am the wind
Hi friends! I hope you like this poem of mine and feel free to give advice:) thanks
Ken Pepiton Feb 2023
You can say that again, later, it is -time
lace up the daily bag and pass it
for all private interpretation
removal, from the rumen, to the next
- gaseous we, Huxley called us, 1957

No, this ain't show business, this
is living, made in a made up mind,
being finished doing, just
living.

Making up reasons to dispute liars.

Maybe not a good living, but it's free.
Or paid for, any way.
Bought with a price
my grands won't be forced to pay.
- divided attention makes
- ads obliviate into the mercantile
- classification, in attention econ 101
It's free - this living
in the way well fed children do,
in America, outside the cities;

Joy pursued and grabbed in happy
fistfuls that fill laughing memory bubbles
to store for when these become
the olden days.

No, this ain't show business,
its sacred duty,
work of a thing,
made from a boy who looks
into flies eyes, gazing up
from the bottom of the cup,
a little glazed, perhaps,

owing the fly an easy escape, look away

Tricae,
tricae
"perplexities, hindrances, toys, tricks,"

The collections of thoughts,
the access to held thoughts, knotted
messages
to you
private moments,
time alone, as a mortal human being,
humus built, auto-repairing thing being

being, eh?
One-like, only, or
on-like, only going on and on and on,

becoming fruitful
becoming useful
becoming less and less useful, but
becoming more and more curious
becoming full enough to become superfluous.

Lay preachers can create cushions
for lazy wishers wishing to be comforted,
but the weighing of the worth of comfort,

lay preachers seldom do, to my knowledge.

Terminus gnosis, all I know, my bubble of knowns;
this is it…
a thousand stacks of sensible lines, atop precepts,

strewn beside the trail.
Heavy
heuristic heretical how-to do as I dones,
published by faith in the thousands, litter
the little hills the psalmist asked,
why they writhed and twisted,
as in a dance of anger wishing,

clear channel, me and the truth, today,
just/instance, this/ now.

Free am I, by the faith in me, but you
already
knew that,

don't you?
Don't you know, there is a musing mind,
we wear to bed, some nights,
we lay on memory foam, some nights.

Thinking sorted thoughts, untying lying links,
links to educated guesses fed you as new reasons

to be ever vigilant, ever ready to defend the faith,
the laughing faith of a child, leaping
into the sky

- my grandson, I just learned,
- asked for more math.

No class common man, that is what I am,
on the cusp of next, looking back,
at the mess I left, like a cyclone,
randomly distributing seeds of kindness, specs
by which an idle word can activate troves
of ancient autoresponders, each guessing
what if, what if not,
what if, what if not,
what if, what
if
not now, when. Pop.
Bubbles of been, leave go, go on, think it

through, and passed through, into
the now
where we formed, letters, letting words wait,
sit still, ready
for the reader, ready
to steady the quivering fearful thing,
lost in thought,
stuck in stacks of holy orders, hearer only,
only ordainded doers do the trick,
intricate, folding to make not a paper swan,

too, easy. Make a protein. With no model,
just the idea in the word applied to science,
proper pose, super knowing, proto-life-ish thing,
that is digestible using an infantile nourishing node.

What tricks do you know?, the magi aske Moshe.
Snake from a staff.

From the crozier of goatherd, sure,
we can all do that. What else?
---
Allusions to ever knowing, knowing as old
as knowledge given girls at their flowering,
as old a mystery as any orphaned mother may tell
her great grand daughters,
nobody told me any thing,

but I took it as normal,

As the patient potency prefecting
effectual
fervent
prayer, dramatized, made big as all
art
any
bubbled artifice holding essences,

essential bits of the daily grind to gloss
the leading intellect's reason for being
so shiny,
Klimt golden, as that one kiss I recall,

yes, a facsimile, a memory evocation,

a kiss, golden in that moment, infected
with a feeling
dramatized to be offered to all who see,
intricacies,
khipu twists and loops and bundles and beads,

accounting for dues,
instructing kaballah, pass it on

Excuse me, are you in the right realm,
we feel pluralized,
but you don't fit,
we are uniform,
uninformed,

excathedra, listen up, all eight billion now living, are destined
for certain death,
it is a matter of time, dying once,
can happen anytime,

and if there is a second death, so far,
I never saw any body do it twice,
once truth makes what I am free,
we stay free,
amen,
reception accepted kaballah, et al,
take that greasy grace, feel it,
as the oil ran down Aaron's beard,

and there were no poor denied
starship rations,
until the comet hit and all
but a single mind
blew, into this
a complete fiction,
or another compleat guide to fishing

Imagine the magic of the sailor's accounting book,
envision the magic of levers, and pulleys and cogged
wheels feeling the weight

ping
2023 Gravity driven or gravity powered, is it
one
or the other, when it come be to inspire
first fears
to frame wisdom pools,
at depths we learn
to believe,
prove each participant,
worthy of keeping,
the secret.
Salt of the earth, deep down dehr dat
Caribbean Sea,
shore line fracture,
follow the riverwise road,
any thing you think you must bear,
don't blame,
sometimes it pays, to bend.
Grasshopper Locust practice, for the mind
of an ant.

Wisdom harnessed the fear of God,
put it down,
in other words,
when there was nothing
but E, mass and time being assent
esse, sentient, in sentient and ex
insentience, sapient over lay,
- honeycomb tripe pattern, say
- why not ruminate enclosed
- in a beauteous inner digestive
- recluse-exclusive-sub-science con
ified, tied ligously, fi,
to witty means, and ways we prove
gravity is our friend, driven power for all life,
strong as earth itself, but, we are

in the burning phase,
let me bring you down,
cause being accused, does that
to a stranger
being
entertained, or entertaining, on an aitia
let me
reason,

have you come for more, or do we have
too much
of too many things
to make too much
sense
of any particular reader/writer ifery algorithm,
if then,
else is this, current, slow, nodding, flux,
capacitance
loading axially,
if each mind thinks right once,
today, we have enough,
let's save the world.
- that easy, eh?
global restoration, Christ, yes,
that is the plan.
As the planet was.
Prior to Peleg's days.
Intended to have a single
dry land mass,
Wisdom pushed
for plates meeting
and using ice
at the top
of the world, as seen polaris up,
spinning
in a slow wobble
through four
seasonal positional hot-cool-cold-warm
gyre drivers, saline liquid epicycles, sisters
of the four winds
as a flywheel effect
in the telling times… a little imbalence leaning helps
with the wobble,
in the event,
slim to none,
the odds, but,
Don't Look Up. It could
reoccur, and shall, if
Nietzsche's epicycle

has wheels. Graham Hancock, on clocks…cosmic

Mindspacetime, the elite flight,
secretshitistic, it is, most certain, it is
fantasmic imagining
E not equal any thing, mere words
-jello-timingoooisht
between me and thee,
no point, not one, between the we
we become,
in the final analysis, if you wish,

might
you wish,
long, lazy river readers, re-mind
their lost selves, how innocense felt.

The worth of an unsold story, given
as a gift, as a poor artist might
attempt
a portrait
of their daughter's children

- "that little thing"
Done. As best he could, he believed,
at the time,
as it is
with
everything being as is when we arrive,
we adapt
or become the insane opposition,
to anything,
just
be the counter weight on the pendulum,

keep things swingin'

feel time slide
into the real deal,
at the crossroads
in the wayback seat,
sayin' honey, you ain't here
after what I'm here after,
y'gonna be there, after I'm gone, as  asong
that was
once a joke ended you gonnabe here
after I'm gone, but

seemsayin' eye
squint, see,
way back
when,
we were otherwise involved, affirming
sacred oathes, we swore as children learn
IT being life, whatever,
it don't mean
nothin'
is not a joke, it's ahint, to readers, ready
writing is key to reading,
vertical eyed
qwerty keying is learned,
phone wide,
natural, feels familiar
style adaptation
as cuneiform once was,
years of hearing the same words,
said and resaid, story after story stacked
in
time, measured by stargazers, called, by god,
eyes like eagles, these minds expand, and see
the order of the cosmos,
and the chaos of the collective sub-science

locked by a generational curse on oathes
under the God those kids had in mind,
September, 1954, first day of school,
all across the Wyatt Earp of Nations,
each child not religiously exempted,
stood, right
hand on heart and repeated, as a national
student body, K through 12, a pledge,
local time 9 a.m. nationwide,
not unlike
a true Tenant's pledge of fealty,
as recorded in
The Compleat English Copyholder:
Common and Statute LAW of
England, relating to Manors
and Lords of Manors Et c.
- buzz nod what instance… seven seconds
Sorry, Under God, was added to the pledge
that year, that affectionizes those exposed,
we meander under god, think it not strange.
It’s a legendary trait, we'll all be remembered a bit.
- default modemod is always beguiling temptation
- for temptation sake, win a game, get the rush.
of chasing hares
to where the conies hide,
feeble folk, but they live among big rocks,
reason enough,
use what you know is right,
hide from things that eat you,
that evolves
in nations
with no elders, constant defence mode
peace makers seem
feeble folk,
who knew,
and fell away, impossible to renew,

whoah, zeke play me that riddle,
'bout scrublands being humbly blissed
so long- wayback, anchoring the authority
17
that's me, I
fiddled around
and blew the clearwater revival
to kingdom come, Muddy Waters, aight
and there was hippies, ever whar, swanee,
so I do, I swan no no no no mo
lie like the devil for the sake of church heritage,
holy warrior sworn, heart torn, tears shed, tongues
spoken.
You know, when gravity is taken
in, your weight, sunk
into the reasoning
swung wide
in progress, no aim, past the cloud,
for crying out loud, this is louder than ever,
listen, no
silence
all that
noise, is natural
to persons genitivally, ok, cross
shadowed animus anima imitation,
in your cultural genes, cowgirl
seeing the world a yingyang thang,
with gravity and the E-magnetic shields
allowing systems to com-uni-cate locally,

scarey
indeed

too much,
the scope
of any thing one might think
or ask,
as in what was that rule
of LAW once?
I read
Compleat Fisherman's Guide U recall led
to , yes, The Compleat English Copyholder:
Common and Statute LAW of
England, relating to Manors
and Lords of Manors Et c.
is on Google books, masterfully typeset

Feel free to learn all you will, 'tis all in the Common.

as, by now is much that may have been, otherwise,
in needier times,
less riches, more sorrow,
less sorrows, more riches, peace.

Made that my after all battlefield task,
no mas win or lose.

My side, on the scalar models is gravity empowered,
heavyweight, ancient concept,
gradient slopes
with long lazy loops
on the downhill side,
listening
to kids make all the noise they wish,
two chalk walls away,
in the bubble we all breathe.

To this day, whatever it took, it worked.
Life gets as good as you can make up a mind

to accept, as
this is it,
this is my bit. My close up. To the exact point
where I breathed that bubblierised wedom-opinion

opinion opinion opinion okeh, settle years ago, okay
we all say okeh here, holy ground,
entire collection of recollection on that victory alone.

Okeh, is still the proto voice model, ok.
If you like it, I'd love if you shared it in whole or in part, it is a whole chapter in a novel form of literature, native to the internet age,
type set for vertical receivers
John AD Apr 2020
Ang titik kong namumutiktik sa sabik,
Matabil ang dila , maligaya kung maghasik
Mga matang nakapikit , Husga ay saltik
Madalas akong matinik , hindi nalang ako umiimik

Kahindik-hindik na katahimikan , ipipiit ka ng iyong isipan
katampalasanan ay ginugol , alingawngaw ng asong kumakahol
Dumanak kasinungalingan , dayukdok ang mamamayan
Di-masusupil ng kapangyarihan , Mapaniil ng may alam
Jun Lit Nov 2019
Noong musmos pa’y sabaw
sa isang malukong na pinggan
puno ng kaning may kaunting tutong
pagkaliban ko ng bakod, ika’y nakasalubong
kalooban ko’y kimi, dila ko noo’y urong

wala sa aking hinuhà,
walang sinangguning manghuhulà
sino ba’ng mag-aakalà
marmol **** bantayog
gatô palang kahoy ang loob
nang katotohana’y nabantog
sa kaunting yanig, gumuho ang moog

huwag daw sasamba sa mga d’yos-d’yosan
ngunit tila larawan ka ng may-kabanalan
haliging inasam na masasandalan
sa ilaw ko pala’y naging tampalasan

imaheng nadurog ay dagok sa aking likod,
at tila balisong na sa puso’y kumadyot
kulang ba ang hikbi ng pusang malambot?
labis bang nagmahal ang asong malikot?

Mahabang panahon ginugol, dumaan
Ang kapeng mainit lumamig,
Napanis na’t nakalimutan

Sa paglalakad, dinampot, hinimay
ang duming iniwan ng mga alamid
matiyagang pinagyaman
Isinangag ng paulit-ulit sa nagmumuning isipan
Giniling sa puso tumanaw sa pinagmulan
Tinimplahan ng matam-is na kapatawaran
Paglagok ng mainit, aking naramdaman
Tiwasay ang dibdib, may kapayapaan.
My ninth in my Brewed Coffee Poems series - poems much influenced by my memories of my old home and childhood in Lipa, Batangas.
IT'S YOU I WANT WITH ME .. ( Was asong I'd written )
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When the burch trees down the lane of old
Lose their leaves as they turn gold
And the wind it blows as winter unfolds
Its you I want with me~
When the seasons are all changing
And the landscapes are rearranging
Most of our friends are strangers
Its you I want with me~
When crystal diamonds of frozen dew
Hang from the burch trees icey blue
And smoke now drifts from our stove flue
Its you I want with me~
When wild bush orchards purple and cream
Grow again along our favourite stream
And the yellow daisies in the sunlight beam
Its you I want with me~
When the valey shadows help form the coming night
And only the moon on high provides some light
And I need someone just to hold me tight
Its you I want with me~
When the burch trees full again piece the sky
And birds within them sing and sigh
And to leave this place Id rather die
Its you I want with me~
When again the mountains show backdrop of winters cold
And the icey blue snow again covers them so bold
And that distant bell in fresh breezes told
Its you I want with me~
And when autumn time once more has been and gone
And seasons return that Ive missed so long
And all the while my heart yerns for your song
Its you I want with me~
Its only you I want with me my love
And for your love I thank God above
We vowed for life as does the dove
Its you I want with me~

Terrence Michael Sutton
original copyright 1969 ..

— The End —