4) Blather

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Blather." So tell me friend, what motivates you to go on? Is it the chase of a gentle, lovely skirt? Or the ambition of a greenback stuffed shirt? Is it the sun on your face catching waves? Or performing on stage to applauding raves? Tell me friend, what is it that makes you go? Catching a buzz higher than yesterday? Or eluding the fuzz on an open highway? Setting a record that no one can touch? Rehabbing enough to release your crutch? Then tell me friend, why get up at all? Bohemian experience and nothing more? The delicate caress of this week’s whore? The approval of a boss you can not stand? Or playing with toys too young for a man? Yes, tell me friend, what moves you on? A selfish urge to have the perfect day? The satisfaction of making your enemies pay? Win that big game, crush the damned loser? Or be the tavern’s big champion boozer? Well, tell me friend, are you the real thing? Who gives to their kids all that they can? Subjugates their ego for the good of all man? Donates their life to the advance of the race? Infinitely grateful for God’s loving grace? To me, four out of five haven’t a clue, Why you’re here and what is true, Four out of five are deaf, dumb and blind, And at least that many are out of their mind.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Blather." I'm your clean bleeding knight in white shining anger Culture considered, a grounded cliffhanger Your less-than-casual canine reconnoiter Who points bony fingers at the ethical goiter That blisters the face of the trained elephant's ass. I'm your ragged champion with sore raging voice Whose gleaming petard is some retard's hoist Raw screams withheld in defiant meditation Scrapes up the highway of an unwise nation Steering his own toward a better tomorrow. I'm your untied rough and tumble slugger Whose taken some shots from ignorance mugger Scarred but smiling, bloody through my teeth This creamy rain will drown your foolish belief That money and power are worth your all. I'm your beacon of truth in a sea of dead ringers Doggerel you'll pry away from my cold fingers Ascendancy's doorstep I'll tread like an exile In Buddhic forgiveness unknown you revile For you're dumbstruck in dark western towers. I'm your siren of strength in a miasma of doom Whose words amongst many they wish to entomb Puppets abound performing malfeasance aplenty Yanked by their sinews, no more twenty-twenty Vision impaired and the best glasses can't help. I'm a loudspeaker of quiet in a din of disaster The sobering calm for a drunken slave master Still bold often brazen yet aged wiser, discreet Thoughts crawl your mind's alley damnation's receipt You'll know I was right once I'm dead and gone.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Blather." They label him this way, and they label her that She’s too damn skinny and he's way too fat Her sales are fantastic and his numbers are flat He's a liberal conservative lyin' republicrat. He's a racist bigot and she can't drive a knife He's a jealous husband and she's a cheating wife She is working way too hard and he is barely alive She gets in way before six and he can't wait 'til five. Yeah, we make our surface judgments Usually shallow, meaningless lies That serve our own selfish purpose Though your real humanity denies. She's a dummy 'cause she's blonde or her skin's too damn dark He's a greedy lawyer scum and drinks blood in the park The Yale grad's gotta be smart despite the eagle's bark She's a righteous hypocrite, the TV con man's spark. She's gotta be a whore by the cut of her holey jeans Gotta be a Mexican because he likes tacos and beans Gotta be gay because he digs Broadway scenes She's gotta be trouble because she's still in her teens. Yes we indict upon contact And tell ourselves such lies It makes ourselves feel better But it hardly makes us wise.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Blather." There is poetry in everything I hear, feel and see Like the breeze through the trees And the lapping of the sea The shape of a rock or the dregs in tea. The expanse of a cloud, the cadence of rain The song of a bird or the coastline of Spain. A deeper meaning is there for you all A sense to uncover an obligation to recall Your relation to Nature, a higher connection than clear At first blush so simple, at its zenith so dear The crux is not built-in, not one of cold state But a static apparition, one of personal weight. The older I get, the deeper I see Creating my poetry, the meaning of Be. I can’t help but notice the relations of things All to one another, how the Universe sings. It’s a poem all by itself, extrication supreme An everlasting truth, the undiscovered dream. There is poetry and meaning in all that there is Sunlight on the water, a sand grain’s curiosity A butterfly’s flutter, and berries on the vine The symphony of whitecaps, bouquet of sweet wine The majesty of cliffs, the whirling of the world The vengeance of a storm, the smile of a girl.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Blather." More than halfway lost is our Johnny on the pot Still perplexed as to what is cool and what is hot Brandishing a dirty spoon at his fork in the road Always seeking something to lessen denial's load Deliriously numb you'll find this Jack on the rocks A lifetime's shattered by the commotion of the clock. Unethical escort is he if you're dumb enough to view Blind leading behind a world where patent lies are true Forever lighting chickens, there's three on a match Foolhardy, stoned and stupid, he makes a shoestring catch For any gullible lady with willing cash to burn Swine before the altar where pearls are cast and turned. Goliath in his mind and David when he hurls A mysteriously potted plant attractive to the girls Torching an ever shallow soul, he's gotten to the door One assumption, two afflictions, three convictions, floor Peter Pan's his unknown idol, blood alcohol's been tested This apple's fallen against the tree, certain growth arrested. Thinks the three R's are rock, rights, and roaches Might need the florist on his knees as midnight approaches Casually conjures fantasy from white billows once inhaled Psychoactive pleurisy when his reality's turned tail So flying words from his nether mouth lock it all untethered Chanting mantras aplenty, cliches all roughly weathered.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Blather." “The freeway scene is like life,” said the cop Cruising along until his time to stop All of us drive toward some destination Roll upon wheels of private sensation. Carry the vehicle of our own choice A personal mirror of colorful voice Dodging the obstacles, stones in our way We change lanes as methods, get carried away. By sexy young models, mobile dreams The road’s but a medium, not what it seems The paths that we ride will never again Be done by another, no matter when. The exits we take, adventures we choose Take us to places where we pay our dues The pavement rolls on with no end in sight This road’s your horizon in day or night. So our internal combustion egos Strike an outwardly material pose Sometimes we’re steady or rush things too much Fly by our rivals or get close and touch. And we carry ourselves so far and wide We race like the wind, the blacktop our guide It’s day after day and mile after mile Thunder’s our glory and distance our trial.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Blather." Not gonna be an astronaut and blast off into space Not gonna be a make-up artist, spread colors on your face Not gonna be a trial lawyer and test the limits of the law Not gonna be an oil painter or someone who can draw. Not gonna be a novelist or a poet of some renown Not gonna be a fashion maven or design the latest gown Not gonna be a corporate suit, greed just ain’t my thing Not gonna be a Vegas gigolo, a trash man or a king. I’m just too old to change streams now I’ve been at this too long And any attempt to start anew Will leave me in the wrong. Not gonna be an airplane pilot and fly to foreign lands Not gonna be a camel jockey and survive upon the sands Not gonna be a body builder or an actor on TV Not gonna be a martial artist and fight in the UFC. Cause I’m just too old to change things now To make a living at anything new With so many mouths depending on me To myself I have to be true. Not gonna be a rock and roll star and prance round on stage Not gonna be a microsurgeon or wield a pressure gauge Not gonna be a politician, just too honest for my own good Not gonna be a car mechanic, or work my way with wood. Not gonna be a US diplomat, and chat with dignitaries Not gonna be a cattle driver or milk cows at dairies Not gonna be a computer geek and program myself to Mars Not gonna be an alcoholic and hang around in bars. No, I’m just too old to change streams now I’ve been at this too long And any attempt to start anew Will leave me in the wrong.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Blather." Carving up the highway like you're driving on your own Racing crazy wild faster, a dream you're all alone Making flashing dragster time, while losing your own rabid mind Watching your life blur away, a hundred miles past blind. Roaring thru confusion's tunnel, a pulsing missile flies Beyond a deeper comprehension which suddenly dies Like crunchy leaves blown from trees in gale force winds Dynamite on the brain, forget about your sins. Zooming past the common scene, and time becomes all one Memories come flooding back, you set them on the run You're not concerned with all that was, the moment is your now You've flown at breakneck speed from alpha, looking for the tau. Laughing screaming crying jumping propelling you so fast Through a life you've never known, a dimension far too vast Existence shines at every turn, an easy bend in reality's deep Within your mind, you make the choice to simply unlock and leap.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Blather." How much do I give and how much do I keep? Is the price to elevate society one too steep? Gotta take care of number one and seeds I've sown But the song my life sings has a righteous tone. I want to give, I want to live beyond reproach I need to find a balance, be my own coach I must be strong so those I love live long Yet share enough of them and me to be sure that we belong. Young men are foolish, accumulating useless trash To impress whomever, under the influence of cash Older men know it's in the giving that defines a man What he does, not what he has, that drives the plan. But to give wholly and selflessly when others need you Seems irresponsible to me, yet to hoard it's selfishly true Life's give and take, what you can and what you need Some say you give 'til it hurts, not 'til you bleed. How much do I give and how much do I keep? Is the cost to elevate fellow men far too deep? Gotta take care of my DNA and it's replications sure But the chime of my reason must forever ring pure.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Blather." Gossamer thoughts on hardened steel Chain link fence or a final appeal We draw our boundaries and so define Our own existence dare we cross the line. Lines on the road or lines on your face Lines which point a finger, those with no trace Lines laid down in patterns supine Yet chaos is served whence we cross the line. Rebels push at ideology’s edge A stunt man’s hobby, a political ledge A journalist’s typeface, an editor’s mind Announce to the public when we cross the line. Lines in the jail or lines in our schools Lines give direction, some designate rules Lines geometer space and lines show our times Describe our reality until we cross the line. Artists curve and canvas the truth Older men struggle to delineate youth Ponce would be proud, our efforts combine Nature is served lest we cross the line. Lines carry charges and lines carry cars Lines direct waves of light from the stars Lines demonstrate the need for food and wine Everyone starves if we cross the line. Sharp lines are needed for children behaved They respond if they know where to be safe Adults would grow disciplined and fine Lest we allow them all to cross the line.