Before my retirement life was so hectic I couldn't write stories. The discord was unreal. I used my creative impulses to write song lyrics, mainly to keep my hand in. Bonus: This kind of writing helps one make a habit of word economy. I don't read, play, or sing music. None of my family and friends do. So these samples of my lyrics are just a partial record of past activity. They have been praised by some, and disparaged by others. Here is a sampling:
1. Daisy Plumtree, Lady Outlaw
Daisy Plumtree was a lusty one,
She loved an old buffalo gun.
She'd shoot her round,
Then stand her ground,
Where many men might run.
If her ways was rough and raw,
She learned it from her paw;
Who killed eight men,
Then made it ten,
Which set his fate with the law.
She was Daisy Missy Plumtree
Rough and ready
Rode the outlaw trail
To rob the outbound mail
Missy Daisy Daisy Plumtree
(repeat)
She went on the lam in Mexico
And fell in with Two Feathers Crow
She leaned her gun
In Crow's wigwam
Made from hides of buffalo
But the soldiers killed her man
He was crossing the Rio Grande
Daisy got hung
Before she swung
Said Daisy Crow is who I am
She was Daisy Missy Plumtree
Rough and ready
Rode the outlaw trail
To rob the outbound mail
Missy Daisy Daisy Plumtree
2. Little Songs
When the world runs out of wrongs
I’ll be writing no more songs
But for now
I say wow
Business is very good
I’ll keep writing little songs
‘Til there’s peace in battle zones
‘Til congress notes
The change with votes
Until then I must conclude
When a child’s peaceful at night
When love’s a symbol not might
No hunger
No danger
Until then I’ll just be rude
I’ll keep writing little songs
Loud enough to rattle bones
To spit it out
In one big shout
Until then I must conclude
When folks die of poverty
The wrong ideology
Jealousy
Notoriety
Until then I’ll just be crude
I’ll keep writing little songs
Its my way to battle wrongs
To spit it out
In one big shout
Spit it out
One big shout
Spit it out
One big shout
Spit it out
Cold yellow walls, chandeliers like diamonds.
Your body still and silent as a range of ancient tired mountains.
Attend to me, Love; can you feel it; the sadness in our holy mansion?
See, the listless ghost of beauty walks these lonely halls
And the dust of her passing lifts then slowly falls,
Meeting with your flesh and turning gray and ashen.
You look upon her the way any prisoner looks upon the warden,
Then wilt inside your tiny cell, for you know full well there will be no pardon.
Will you sit with me; rise up My Love; come out into the garden.
The sun will be shining there as I comb out your tangled hair
And braid it into a rope the size and length you wore it as a maiden.
Ah, every star`s a wishing star;
Dream you`re my princess; you are.
It was once upon a perfect time,
Your eyes were cast on mine.
Your hair descended like a jacob`s ladder.
I climbed into your den.
We lay down in perfect zen.
But now the forces of destiny gather.
And your body is cold, though the sun`s ablaze like diamonds.
My soul aches for you, My Love, even as it roves to look for future mansions.
We are betrayed by time and death, dear Murdered Rose. I must burn this house of pretensions.
The dogs of loss sniff outside the door impatiently,
Smell your flesh so sweet. Don`t feel hate for me
As I spill upon the floor in floods the gasoline, don`t mention
How your magic gave to me selfish love, oh bird in detention.
See the flames embrace the timbers and lace, then hug the lovely statue in the garden.
As I haste to leave, Good-bye, My Love, I know a mansion afar that`s waiting.
Animals dance without care for the sleeping maiden there
Whose love is a golden award for the one invading.
And every star`s a wishing star;
Dream you`re my princess; you are,
Every once upon a time,
Every once upon a perfect time.
See her on the bed asleep, My Love.
See; she lies so still and pure;
Our love will be cement and sure,
This one more once upon a perfect time.