Reflections of a Scribbler

 

Poetry by Joel Kindrick

Music by John Michael Roch

 

1.         Random Beauty of Life

 

Chances are the random beauty of life

With the ups and the downs and the run arounds

Better get ahead so you don’t get down.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

There is the road ahead.

 

Forks in the road.

Go west young man.

Follow the yellow brick road.

Can’t stop now it’s full speed ahead.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

Forgettin’ the past means problems for the future.

Let the problems be new.

Learn from the past.

Look back. Look back,

But don’t go back.

 

Chances are the random beauty of life.

With the ups and the downs and the run arounds.

Better get ahead so you don’t get down.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

There is the road ahead.

 

Journeys to take.

Places to go.

People to meet.

Gotta get the tee-shirt for the proof.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

There must be more to life.

Smell the roses.

Take a break.

Enjoy the surroundings,

But full speed ahead.

 

Chances are the random beauty of life

With the ups and the downs and the run arounds

Better get ahead so you don’t get down.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

There is the road ahead.

 

Round and round it goes.

Stoppin’ for nothin’.

Another appointment.

Another commitment.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

Ponder the moment so it gives rest.

Learn from mistakes.

Consider them tests.

Random beauty of life.

 

Chances are the random beauty of life

With the ups and the downs and the run arounds

Better get ahead so you don’t get down.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

There is the road ahead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4.      The Long Winter’s Night

 

As I lay my head against the down,

Thoughts of what used be flash all around.

The silence is quite deafening

Only shadows notice what is seen.

 

The pitch black dark creeps in so soon.

The sun comes up late and descends by noon.

By five the sun is out of sight.

The time has come for a long winter’s night.

 

So here I am alone again,

Not knowing whether to begin or end.

If I end and lay me down to sleep,

I’ll have to focus on what I sowed to reap.

 

I miss you terribly, yes, I do.

Yet I know that it was I the fool

Who made the choice to live as one

And express to you that we were done.

 

I kick myself each and every day,

Especially since I cannot say

The real true reason for your oust.

The truth that made me have to bounce…

 

You from my bed.

The reason that when I turn my head

I can’t see you because you’re not there.

My dream, my love, my night affair.

 

I cannot tell you because you’re fake.

You’re false, pretend, faux for goodness sake.

My imagination runs amuck.

I am just simply out of luck.

 

You were never real my love divine.

You were always a figment in my mind.

I must turn to reality

And this is why you cannot be.

 

If I find one as good as you

Please don’t be jealous but accept the new.

So goodbye my perfect bride in white

And leave me to my long winter’s night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7.             Humanity

 

The warming sun comes rolling in

A stare and a glare so often again.

A pleasant breeze comes drifting by

Harsh comments said. Why? Why? Why?

Dogs are playing in the park

But it’s the people who bark, bark, bark

A luminous sunset in the atmosphere

Yes, it’s humanity that I fear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10.           She Walks Alone

 

She walks alone.

Her destiny is ahead.

Where she will go is unknown.

Her hopes and her dreams are yet to be said.

 

She struggles and fights.

The battles are strong.

The pain she suffers often bites.

Her world is a mess as she goes along.

 

Support is rare and sometimes not there.

When she’s by herself, she lets her guard down.

At times what she does is too much to bear.

When she is quiet, she then hears the sound.

 

The sound of her heart as it beats on and on.

She hides her true sense behind what is known.

But if she’s not careful, her heart will be gone.

Where she will go is still the unknown.

 

She walks alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13.            Slowly Spiraling Space

 

Everybody stood still.

It was not just the startling swish of the soaring stones

That shocked the scantily-clad, sleepy residents,

But it was what was left in space and sweeping closer and closer to earth

That made their skin stand on edge.

 

Thousands of stars had just fallen into the earth’s atmosphere,

But it was the striped path that the stellar beings scratched through the sky

That made the people stare in stupendous wonder.

What was spliced in the heavens was not

Just a straight line made by the stalactite-like meteors,

But an open swath in the evening sky, ever slowly spiraling nearer and nearer to the planet.

 

Normally a stretch of night sky void of stars would be standard.

Clouds, day or night, covering the sparkling lights were expected.

Often stratus layers swallowed visibility completely.

This evening was simply different.

The cavernous swipe was not standing still.

It was stooping lower and lower as scared spectators helplessly viewed the celestial abyss.

 

Steadily, as if overtly spying,

The open space spilled over the remaining stars.

This spontaneous black hole did not have the stealth of a stork

Or the sporadic smell of a skunk.

Striking fear into the swarms of screaming people, the space swiftly continued.

There was no stopping the coming strength.

 

Clocks struck the morning hour

When students would normally get up and go to school.

But the sky stayed dark.

 

Scientists started to skillfully study the phenomenon

That by the second threatened to swamp the planet.

Historians started to recall stories of the past to explain it away.

Scholars started to speculate as to the meaning.

Spiritualists started to consult the spirits.

 

What could be done to stop it?

What could be done to halt the coming scourge?

What could be done to steady this screwy spectacle?

 

The earth itself seemed to react to this encroaching galactic scandal.

Lakes, rivers and streams rose and heated as if they were stuttering and stammering, Doing their best to speak of the impending doom.

Even the streets buckled and strained under the stampeding steps

Of the crowds as they raced to places that they felt would stave off their destiny.

 

But, alas, no scientist could stop it.

No scholar or student could study it.

No historian could explain it.

And no spiritualist could scour the stymied and stumped spirits

When they themselves were shaken into a stirring stupor.

 

The darkened gap in the sky could not be stopped.

As if a stinging script was written in the stars,

The earth’s sphere would soon be strangled.

All this long-time staunch and stalwart planet could do was wait and wonder.

Would strength or destruction be its stated destiny?

Only after a small stint of time would the answer be shown. 

 

 

 

16. Two Library Meetings

 

Two cultures together.

Two cultures apart.

Two separate lives lived.

So where to start?

 

In a winter month

When the year was new.

A chance library meeting?

Four became two.

 

Two departed quickly.

So noticeable their flight.

The sight was amusing.

The door was shut tight.

 

“Nice to meet you,” was said

As names were exchanged.

Work broke the meeting.

Funny but strange.

 

And as to intent,

More meetings were had.

An outing here, a dinner there,

Got me thinking, the girl’s not half bad.

 

Two cultures together.

Two cultures apart.

Two separate lives lived.

Is this weaving real smart?

 

The girl is more gorgeous

Then I would attempt.

These types of girls

I would never preempt.

 

Usually look from afar.

Admire and stare.

But actually take out.

Do I have a prayer?

 

Her style is striking.

Her pose is sublime.

Her words are few,

But that will change in time.

 

And as for funds,

It was plainly seen

That I was a pauper

And she was a queen.

 

Two cultures together.

Two cultures apart.

Two separate lives lived.

A good time to dart?

 

Cultures so different.

Is it worth the trouble?

But this one seemed worth it.

Ecstasy or rubble?

 

Advance to the spring.

Cinco de Mayo exact.

Tamales enjoyed.

“I have a boyfriend?” she gasps.

 

‘Twas obvious to me,

My spent time with her.

But on her it was lost.

We had to confer.

 

Boyfriend meant marriage.

A serious step.

For me it meant fun.

The first culture gap.

 

Not opposed down the road

Should things go well,

But too early for these thoughts.

Too early to tell.

 

Two cultures together.

Two cultures apart.

Two separate lives lived.

Is this very smart?

 

Her thinking is odd.

My ways are frustrating.

Sometimes the misunderstandings

Are more than debating.

 

The summer was filled

Sharing California delights

From Matterhorn curves

To Gold Country sights.

 

And yet there were times

That caused me to question,

“Were the gaps so wide

There’d be nothing but friction?”

 

Her viewpoints so different,

My ways so abnormal.

Sometimes the misunderstandings

Were simply just horrible.

 

Yet on the converse

She gave me such gladness,

Giving me joy

I forgot the sadness.

 

Activities shared.

Enjoyed together.

Concerts and games

In all kinds of weather.

 

Two cultures together.

Two cultures apart.

Two separate lives lived.

Now a blending of hearts?

 

And then comes the fall

A couple years later.

My mind is all in.

A mixing of cultural flavor.

 

A new library meeting.

The Huntington it is.

“Will you?” I ask.

No hesitation, “Yes.”

 

Many years later

Post “I dos” were said,

I think to myself,

“What might not have been?”

 

Two library meetings.

Each one unique.

Struggles to get here

And still a mystique.

 

Two cultures together.

Two cultures apart.

Two separate lives lived.

Yes, a weaved work of art.

 

 

 

2.          She Got Under My Skin

 

She stepped into my life.

By mere chance some would say.

She stepped into my world.

Unbeknown to me her presence affected my each and every day.

 

My moods were swayed as if a leaf in the wind.

Why, because she was in my life.

When times were happy, the world could never end.

When times were sad or confused

I admit it, I felt used.

I wanted to get out, but she got under my skin.

I didn’t want to leave because she got under my skin.

 

She had no knowledge of what she was destined to do.

I had no knowledge of what I was to become.

It was as if she toyed with me.

Was it toying or was it real?

Was I just ignorant

Or refusing to stay still?

 

I told myself, “It’s okay if it doesn’t work out.”

“The sea is full of other fish,” others would encourage.

I knew this was true, yet my heart was in a spin.

Yet with the passing of time, the more I was discouraged.

I wanted to get out, but she got under my skin.

I didn’t want to leave because she got under my skin.

 

Every day I fell further and further down that proverbial pit.

There’d be moments when the light would shine.

There’d be instances when I knew that destiny would be bright.

Only to find out shortly that she didn’t want to be mine.

I wanted to get out, but she got under my skin.

I didn’t want to leave because she got under my skin.

 

O how it hurts.

O how it pleasures

Why can’t these feeling be turned off?

Why do I continually treasure?

I wanted to get out, but she got under my skin.

I didn’t want to leave because she got under my skin.

 

Then the final test came.

I was a horse to a carrot. I was a sheep to the slaughter

I was that toy on the string

And then she was gone.

 

I saw her again the other day.

I’d hoped that my feelings had changed.

No! They are stronger than ever. Why?!

She was pleasant and my heart again melted.

Why won’t she be mine?

Why can’t she be mine?

Will this story have that happy ending?

I wanted to get out, but she got under my skin.

I didn’t want to leave because she got under my skin.

 

 

 

 

5.     Muchachita

 

No lifeline back

‘cept phone and airmail.

Valencia bound.

Is it freedom or jail?

 

A guarded heart.

Not gonna fall.

A world apart.

Can’t know it all.

 

The city is bustling.

The noises are strange.

People are hustling.

I’m out of my range.

 

A region of oranges

Tasting so sweet.

The ocean breeze

Conquers the heat.

 

Routine settles in.

Subjects are learned.

Friends begin.

Relationships burned.

 

Remember the heart

That was guarded and sane?

It now has gone crazy

Insane and insane.

 

So slight and so small

With the grace of a deer.

A muchachita. A perfect doll.

Her presence graced here.

 

My mind is a whirl.

No concentration.

Who’s this little girl?

Is this year done?

 

A breath of fresh air.

But my heart must be closed.

This isn’t fair.

I’m about to get hosed.

 

Emotions are awful

So direct and obscure

The guard must come down

There is no cure.

 

Muchachita. Muchachita

I did what I shouldn’t.

I let my guard down

When I promised I wouldn’t.

 

In pants of red and a blouse of black,

Cute and petite upon the step.

The guard is down and I’m not turning back.

It can’t be stopped now; there’s nothing left.

 

Muchachita, my world changed.

You graced my soul,

My life rearranged.

The heart made whole.

 

The months sped by

And soon time came

To say goodbye.

To mount train and plane.

 

No lifeline back

‘cept phone and airmail.

California bound

Is it freedom or jail?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8.                  Now

 

“You’re too young,” they say.

“You have your whole life ahead of you,” they cry.

“Slow down. Be logical.” Why!

“Think of your future.”

 

Now seems good.

Now seems right!

Now seem just as it should.

As if I could conquer the world.

 

Learn from the past. But don’t dwell on it.

Choose your goal. Don’t deviate.

I hate. I hate. I hate.

Look ahead. Pick your point.

 

Now seems right!

Now seems good.

Now seems just as it should.

As if I could conquer the world.

 

There comes a time in everyone’s life that decisions must be made.

Don’t rush them. Let them evolve. It will all work out.

 

No time like the present? Really?

Why then is the present disdained?

As if there is nothing to gain.

Only the future is good?

 

Now seems right!

Now seems good.

Now seems just as it should.

As if I could conquer the world.

 

Let me enjoy the now!

 

Let me enjoy the now!

 

 

 

 

11.         The Girl From Obregon

 

A project to build.

Cabins, I think.

Pound the nails.

Stop for a drink.

 

Saw the wood.

Keep the trusses even.

Break for a rest.

Keep on believin’.

 

Then out of the blue.

And indeed out of context.

Out in the middle of nowhere

My mind becomes hexed.

 

No. Focus on work.

Keep your mind in the game.

Don’t be distracted.

Pretend all’s the same.

 

But things have changed.

For the good or the bad?

I have no idea

Why I’ve been had.

 

It’s a small group of girls

All giggling and sweet.

They stand in a cluster,

Hoping to meet.

 

No. Focus on work.

Keep your mind in the game.

Don’t be distracted.

Pretend all’s the same.

 

So cute and demure

With the darkest of eyes.

Skin golden brown.

I’ve been taken surprise.

 

She looks up at me

With her smile infectious.

“Hola,” I say and my world fades away

All disappears and leaves nothing but us.

 

No. Focus on work.

Keep your mind in the game.

Don’t be distracted.

Pretend all’s the same.

 

¿Comó estás?

Estoy muy bien.

Is this the beginning

Or is this the end?

 

¿De dónde vienes?

All is new.

Eres una princesa

Through and through.

 

She was 12 and I was 15.

I was smitten and she was aglow.

From Obregon she came.

To Obregon she’ll go.

 

No. Focus on work.

Keep your mind in the game.

Don’t be distracted.

Pretend all’s the same.

 

The week went so fast

And then she was gone.

Gone. Gone.

That girl from Obregon.

 

Looking back now,

It seems so trite and naive.

But at the time it was real

I didn’t want her to leave.

 

At the break of dawn.

The girl was gone

That beautiful girl from Obregon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

14.              Pain, Happiness and Back Again

 

To know pain is to know happiness.

To know suffering is to know joy.

For without happiness, how then would one know pain?

For without joy, how then would one know suffering?

 

To stay in constant pain and sadness is a myth.

To stay in constant happiness and joy, a fable.

 

They are but revolving doors.

Never quite staying still.

In constant motion.

A constant vacillation.

 

Knowing that once pain is here, happiness will soon arrive.

Knowing that suffering has come, joy will follow suit.

 

Perhaps in an hour.

Perhaps in a day.

Perhaps in week

Or even a year.

 

But change it will and change it must.

Moments fleet and times vanish.

 

And although modifications are made.

And variations abound.

Be wise and beware,

Knowing bad becomes good and back again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

17.            American Dates

 

The American should know these dates.

The dates that made us who we are.

The dates that make us contemplate.

The dates that keep us going far.

 

The first is 1588.

When out of indignation

This is the date

That kicked off this great nation.

 

The English feared complete annihilation.

As Spain’s armada drew so near,

A fog sacked in the Spanish transportation.

The Brits attack and then they cheer.

 

The sea lanes were completely clear.

Now England could be westward bound

For God and country, the time was here

And, most importantly, for the crown.

 

But a wasteland was England’s cry

Of this America across the marine

Gold and riches. Do or die.

None to be found. None to be seen.

 

This brings us to the next two dates.

As religious persecution was on the rise

In jolly old England the king did hate

Worshipers without disguise.

 

So in 1620 the Pilgrims crossed

For religious freedom to this new land

But the harsh winter laid a heavy cost

Upon these souls, upon their plan.

 

And thanks to Squanto and the Wampanoag too

That in 1621 Bradford could declare

That a Thanksgiving would be the glue

To give God thanks for the abundance there.

 

Then in 1776

Adams, Jefferson, Franklin and the rest

Let King George know that they had nixed

Any notion of his royal crest.

 

Down with this tyrannical dictator.

A new day brought new lofty heights.

Endowed by their creator

With certain unalienable rights.

 

France was strapped and needed cash.

And in 1803 it made Jefferson’s day

For the Louisiana Purchase made a splash

And the mighty Mississip' became the nation’s waterway.

 

In 1812 the Redcoats returned.

Canada invaded

And Washington burned.

U.S. dignity elevated.

 

Westward ho! Beautiful metal and shine.

The rush was on

In 1849.

California’s gold and dreams beyond.

 

Another war raged all around.

And 1863, during civil separation,

Is when President Lincoln stood his ground

And declared that slavery ended through emancipation.

 

In 1898 while harbored in Havana,

 “Remember the Maine,”

Became the mantra.

The reign of Spain suggested the blame.

 

Territories were all the rage

Puerto Rico and the Philippines

Guam and Cuba upon the stage

A U.S. Navy upon the scene.

 

Then “Over there. Over there,” is what was cried.

In 1917 and ‘18

The doughboys bled and died.

Disastrous destruction ever seen.

 

Entering the Greatest War,

This was to be the last.

For never could the world be torn

And battles were something of the past.

 

That belief was soon debunked

When a few years later in ‘41

The Japanese precisely sunk

U.S. ships and infamy was begun.

 

Four years later this war did end.

Helped by the dropping of a bomb.

And many dates begin to blend.

Cold War, Korea and Vietnam.

 

One hundred years later and now the sequel.

Separate but equal was the act.

Certainly separate, but completely not equal.

Rosa Parks simply refused and sat.

 

Attention shifted to Blacks and Whites.

“I Have a Dream” in 1963.

MLK and Civil Rights

“Free at last.” Let all be free.

 

In 1969 NASA was in haste

To beat the Russians and do it soon.

A giant leap for the human race.

To place a man upon the moon.

 

In 1986 the Challenger burst.

In 1989 the Berlin Wall crumbled

In 1991 the Soviets dispersed

In 2001 the World Trade Center tumbled.

 

These are some dates that are near and dear

To the hearts of Americans who have no fear,

Knowing each day offers a new tomorrow

By realizing that it was yesterday from which we all borrow.

\

3.        The Joker, Dorks and Sailing Masts

 

The Joker, dorks and sailing masts,

Sorties, Nylons, Bobs and France.

These are the things I choose to see

As I remember what you meant to me.

 

Inexperienced and inept.

A bit naive and not adept.

I may appear to have confidence,

But it’s a ruse, I must confess

 

Yet I look at you and I wonder why

You are interested in such a guy.

I’m nothing special, nothing great.

Just a regular dude, following fate.

 

Up the hill in fact we go

Me behind you, whoa, whoa, whoa

Umm, your golden locks strand down your back

And where they lead, give me a heart attack.

 

So perfectly shaped in the jeans you wear.

Your skin so fair and that golden hair.

At least for the moment, I can claim you’re mine

As we walk in single file through the scent of pine

 

Oh, the summer sped by so fast

On the high seas, hoisting up the mast.

Then off to France, you did leave.

Our educations to achieve.

 

The Joker, dorks and sailing masts,

Sorties, Nylons, Bobs and France.

These are the things I choose to see

As I remember what you meant to me.

 

Parlez vous?

Merci boucoup.

You’re back again.

Je t’aime. Je t’aime.

The Joker needs his Vicki Vale.

El Fuerte and a Mexican rail.

Square dancing to the midnight hour.

The Gulf War and its air power.

 

New Year’s tub, assorted plays,

The music shared and naps in days.

The memory is so acute

From you, “epitome” and “astute.”

 

And in my naiveté,

Belief of endurance continually.

Rude awakening shot me through the core.

Pit in the stomach. Scared forevermore.

 

“Fundamentally different,” I am told.

After a nice day spent, I’ve been sold.

Taken for a ride. Taken to the cleaners.

Cannot believe the change that has transformed her demeanor.

 

No longer important. Apparently true.

She’s off to Korea, a land that is new.

She’s shedding the old and I’m from the past

My heart is now broken. I thought it would last.

 

No longer naive.

Completely deceived.

My life must go on.

Now you are gone.

 

The Joker, dorks and sailing masts,

Sorties, Nylons, Bobs and France.

These are the things I choose to see

As I remember what you meant to me.

 

 

6.      Medieval Castles and Marshmallow Men

 

Medieval castles and marshmallow men.

The sentiments real, but the decor’s pretend.

 

The life of the party.

The wow of the crowd.

Step into a room

The sound gets loud.

 

The story begins not so long ago.

It’s one of those themes where friend becomes foe.

 

Pure and pleasant.

Trust and troth.

Honest and humble.

Vow and oath.

 

A simple girl seen in a dramatic class.

“Who is it?” was the question that had to be asked.

 

One with ties.

There is no chance.

Didn’t hurt to try

To dream to dance.

 

Would paths cross again?

Wait another year and then.

 

And then there she was.

A priestess robed.

In an Elliot play,

So distinctly clothed.

 

Now is the time to introduce the pickle.

Power held, yet there was this crinkle.

 

An unpretentious audition.

And landed the part

Of Miss Emily Gibbs.

Horse before cart?

 

The revenge of Hook on poor Peter Pan.

Belle and beast, a fairytale in a far off land.

 

So fun and so right.

A dream coming true.

Onto eternity.

The drawing of two.

 

Medieval castles and marshmallow men.

The sentiments real, but the decor’s pretend.

 

Making a life.

That’s what was done.

Into the arts

With plenty of fun.

 

Some times were up and some times were down,

But nothing abnormal floating around.

 

Magnetism unleashed

The public awaited the presence

Of a couple so perfect.

They shined luminescence.

 

If ever the perfect couple there was,

It was them. It was them. Just because. Just because.

 

Because their charisma

Effused without effort.

Who would believe that

Soon there’d be real hurt.

 

Tinseltown lights gleamed. Ventura Boulevard beamed bright.

The twist of fate became day and then became night.

 

That which was brilliant

Turned to deception and lies.

Enter third party.

Make way for good-byes.

 

Medieval castles and marshmallow men .

Hello! Are you there? This is no longer pretend.

 

“No children with you!”

Was screamed from the couch.

Self-confidence low.

It sounds cliché but ouch, ouch, ouch.

 

The girl seen in class had become someone new.

A girl unknown and a girl untrue.

 

The enchantment had ended.

The curtain had closed.

The girl went her way.

The magic deposed.

 

Medieval castles and marshmallow men.

The sentiments real, but the decor’s pretend.

 

And that is the story

And why it is penned.

Now gone are the days of

Medieval castles and marshmallow men.

 

 

 

9.          Angelo Henderson Garvey Tout

                (A tribute to Shel Silverstein)

      Voice: Ryder Gullage; Electric Guitar: Magash

 

Angelo Henderson Garvey Tout

Just wouldn’t clean the garage out!

He’d do the garbage and clean his room,

Pick up the yard and use a broom.

And though his parents would scream and shout,

He simply wouldn’t clean the garage out.

The dust laid thickly all around.

If you were there you’d surely drown.

The cobwebs were so big and tall

That when you went down you’d have to crawl.

Wet cardboard boxes, newspaper scraps,

Worn out tires and water faucet taps.

A collection of shells, a collection of rocks,

A collection of bottles and some dirty old socks.

The tools were all scattered from here to there

With some dented in cans and a scratched up chair

A bent hammer, a pile of nails,

A saw without teeth and an old, rusty pail.

A screwdriver that was melted, an axe that was dull,

A level that was crooked and a pulley that wouldn’t pull.

The workbench was broken and coming apart

That it fell right on top of an old grocery cart.

The mess was growing more and more

Until it went right through the door.

It filled the house right to the top.

His parents were sure the house would pop.

This story did come about

All because Angelo Henderson Garvey Tout

Wouldn’t clean the garage out!

 

 

 

 

 

 

12.        Descent and Ascent of Power

                Electric Guitar: Tom Sayers

 

Why would anybody want to bomb the catacombs?

These silent tombs were an acknowledgement of folks

That had been slaughtered for their beliefs and conscious knowledge.

The aisles were tributes to where they had sung psalms and hymns.

But this was war. And in time of war, nothing is judged and nothing is condemned.

 

The government was psychotic in their wrath,

And they called in the bereted international corps

To defend the reign of the czar from the citizen coup

Seeking to wrestle power away from the law.

           

The descent of the powerful and the ascent to power by the bourgeois

Was subtle and obscene all at the same time

For the common people saw it as a delight to knock down the mighty.

To wrench the muscle out of the leaders that had had them under their thumb

Since before they were in their mothers’ wombs was their design.

 

Those in power would be chastened.

The weight of the tight control that the authority had held on the population

Was thorough and the people knew that it was now or never

Though they did not have a military show of strength,

 

They pledged to be solemnly united and whole in their assignment.

Knives, swords, bows and arrows were redesigned to give maximum force.

Used cartridges made ricocheting capable for mowing down the enemy

And wracking and wreaking psychological warfare

Caused the armored columns of the enemy to wreck.

 

Although foreign powers feigned support to align with the government,

The people knew that these laissez-faire foreigners were benign

And were only awaiting apropos leadership.

The citizens fought within borough after borough.

 

Whereas the enemy had planes, the rebels walked.

Whereas the enemy had radio communication

The rebels relied on writing, listening, rendezvousing and talking.

Their flow of information was quick.

The rapport they had for each other was strong.

 

The people hustled, jostled and wriggled for any advantage they could get.

Going out in groups of twenty, they slowly wrinkled the enemies’ plans.

They created faux campaigns that answered an enemy who saw them as fraught with fear. Strategy after strategy of the enemy went awry.

 

The people balked at the enemy who thought they could not be caught.

Crossing the isthmus and ransacking castles located on each isle,

They rustled everything from cupboards, to lodging areas,

To the great halls where bouquets sat on high ledges and wreaths hung

As if an enormous tsunami had impressively moistened those magnificent walls.

 

Then in the autumn the scenario transcended as they had hoped.

The enemy finally succumbed and consigned to the people

And power was wrested from their hands.

The damage that was wrought on this haughty tyranny brought them to their knees.

 

They became clay in the palms of the citizens.

A new day has debuted.

The people have chosen a new government.

There is a glow of new and better signs to come.

 

The veterans of the fight are satisfied.

They proudly wear their badges of honor.

Although some lost their limbs in battle

And certainly they lost many of their friends,

They know that in this fight for freedom, it was worth it.

 

 

 

15.               Next

 

Strong are the roots that grow every day.

Built on the foundation of strength and play.

A future ahead.

A history behind.

Now is the time not to be blind.

 

The years speed by

And the passion gets hidden.

Temptations abound.

Many fruits forbidden.

 

Remember the days when life was free?

Spring became summer and then they could be

Simple and trusting.

Not a care in the world.

Then feelings shifted like a flag unfurled.

 

The years speed by

And the passion gets hidden.

Temptations abound.

Many fruits forbidden.

 

One went one way and the other another.

One in the mind and the other a lover.

Words were said.

Emotions ran high.

The vows that were made promised stay till they die.

 

The years sped by

And the passion got hidden.

Temptations abounded.

Many fruits forbidden.

 

The love that was had has been covered and buried

By the days and events that have been carried

Through time.

Through heartache and pain,

But also through exhilaration and gain.

 

Deep inside the feelings still smolder.

Enclosed and condensed underneath the lairs.

Perhaps once more he will chance to hold her.

One last night. It will be theirs.

 

The years sped by

And the passion got hidden.

Temptations abounded.

Many fruits forbidden.

 

The parting is quick as the sun arises.

Nothing but a simple goodbye is

All that is needed

To seal the end of dreams that had been.

To quietly say, “This is the end.”

 

The years sped by

And the passion got hidden.

Temptations abounded.

Many fruits forbidden.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Written and Performed by Joel Kindrick

Music by John Michael Roch

Track 9 Voice: Ryder Gullage; Electric Guitar: Magash

Track 12 Electric Guitar: Tom Sayers

Produced by John Michael Roch and Joel Kindrick

Engineered, Mixed and Mastered by JMR

Instrumentation and Programming by JMR

Recorded at The White Room Studio, Chatsworth, CA, January – April 2018

Photography, Graphic Design and Layout by: Rozy Kindrick and JMR

And thank you to the countless people who, for better or worse, have come in and out of my life, giving rise to these scribblings.

© 2020 Joel Kindrick