Before modernity
Growth was only for living creatures
With limited features
But these days
Even things can blossom
With the magic of packaging
Trees with start of spring
Objects with getting packed
And I with being with you
We can all flourish
As simple as that
My body's not a stone, unyielding and cold
Nor is it wood, unfeeling, and old
It's flesh and blood, with needs that must be met
Rest and relaxation, to rejuvenate and reset
Don't be a slave to labor, toiling ceaselessly
For when you're gone, your efforts will be but a memory
Those you've worked for, will call you a fool, in death
For neglecting your own needs, and sacrificing your last breath
Find solace in leisure, and joy in life's delight
Savor the fruits of your labor, before the darkness of night
Take a sip of wine, let music move your soul
Dance and merry, let your spirit be made whole
Don't hoard treasures, you'll never live to enjoy
Be moderate, and decisive, let wisdom be your employ
Let go of hatred, and malice, for they'll bring you pain
And lead to heart attacks, and a life of regret and strain
Life's short, enjoy it, while you may
Do good, create impact, but don't overdo, come what may
Consider your health, and your maker, in all you do
For a life of balance, is a life that's true.
Moonshine, diesel fumes, and chicken wire.
Laundry hangin’ on the line.
Bible open to the Book of Job.
Backyard thick with prickly pine.
Jacket pocket full of Red Man dip.
Work boots laced with leather thongs.
Wedding portrait on the mantel piece.
Shotgun right where it belongs.
Kettle simmers on a cast iron stove.
Faucet’s drippin’ in the sink.
Matchbook underneath the table leg,
Teacup teeters on the brink.
Cobwebs draped across a window screen.
Horseshoe nailed above a door.
Things calmed down some since the weather broke.
Same sad silence as before.
Ma’s been servin’ up the buttermilk,
Boiled potatoes in a bowl.
Pa starts eatin’ while she’s sayin’ grace.
Lets her worry ‘bout his soul.
Man might say he be a slave to love.
Women make the same complaint.
Neither really know the meaning of
What it is and what it ain’t.
The god of this world is not wholly
Wholly good or wholly evil.
He does his best to avoid extremes.
With his cornucopia he feeds the paying multitudes
While the rest discreetly hunger. He nourishes,
Admixing with good food insignificant,
That is – as far as we can tell - insignificant
Doses of toxin. We must say grace mindful
That slightly poisoned food is better than none, and
“In the long run,” as one archdeacon of economics said:
“Who cares,?“ We’ll all be dead.”
Progress was not made for man, but man
Was made to serve progress. “What progress?” you ask.
Ah, the answer to that is far, far, above us,
Filed away on the fiftieth storey.
By the way, don’t get too worried
About that radioactive leak!
An expert has assured us we need expect
Only a couple of extra cancer cases at most.
And besides, don’t rock the boat
No the god of this world is not holy.
...And though I miss Riff playing shows with me,
I can't say that his decision is wrong,
I'll take my best friend however I can,
I need him to stay healthy and strong.
As for me, I guess I have become
the land band member truly standing,
I still use the name, hired a support band,
and every year do three months of touring.
I've been married now for seventeen years,
in this business that's remarkably run,
and my three daughters do not go to sleep
worrying that I'll drink to much and be done.
Some younger bands do criticize me,
that I'm 'fake,' don't live the rock-star life,
how many of them will still do what they love
when they reach the age of forty-five.
How many of them will crack the top forty-five
each year going on twenty-five years?
How many won't make a mess of their lives?
How many of them won't even be here?
Tet I still get to play to a packed house,
make them scream, them put tears in their eyes,
knowing that words I thought up did this,
all of their joy is my natural high.
Hell, I'll still be here in twenty years,
bringing the people a grand revelry,
the greatness does not ever have to end
if you moderate the debauchery.
Democrats and Moderate Republicans
The Democrats with,
Moderate Republicans.
Always make much sense.
Jim Horn
a smile on a piece of paper
takes the cake
give me the opportunity that will work out
dx
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