Greener Pastures Are Waiting.

It’s Nobody’s Fault But Mine

Jim — Sat, 02 Oct 2010 05:43:36 +0000

It’s nobody’s fault but mine.
If I don’t save my soul tonight,
it’s nobody’s fault but mine.

Father, He showed me the Light.
If I don’t see that Light tonight,
well, it’s nobody’s fault but mine.

Brother, He opened the Door.
If I don’t go through that Door tonight,
well, it’s nobody’s fault but mine.

Sister, He sang me the Song.
If I don’t hear that Song tonight,
well, it’s nobody’s fault but mine.

For The Fatherless

Jim — Sat, 02 Oct 2010 05:38:15 +0000

Sung to the tune of ‘Moonshiner’.

Someday the sun will shine down on me.
Someday the rain will wash me away
and his hands won’t toil alone, nor will mine,
for on what his built mine will retire.

Someday the son will understand why
his father sang softly, but as clear as a bell.
And his voice won’t sound so alone, nor will mine,
for a chorus of angels is what we will be.

God, it is so hard to lose the ones you love
and it is still harder to find the strength you need
to let them go forth alone ’til the day
your body it lies down and your soul it goes home.

My Babies (They Smile True)

Jim — Thu, 16 Sep 2010 17:53:46 +0000

Our wait in vain
though short
felt long.

A new day and
a new face
at dawn.

In the second half of June
my baby, she smiled true.

Your heart and mine
beat slow
and calm,

and our love it grows
and it
goes on.

As summer grew and you–
my baby–smiled true,
my baby smiled true.

Arise! All Ye Tender Friends (Version II)

Jim — Wed, 07 Apr 2010 19:19:13 +0000

Arise! all ye tender,
passionate, and loving
friends at my table;
Arise! shake the dust off
thy backs and let thy true light
shine through the muck.

For My Daughter, May She See It When I’m Gone

Jim — Tue, 06 Apr 2010 22:23:03 +0000

It’s a fucked up world
and I’m sorry that I am
so happy that you are alive,
I’d rather be angry
at all of this shit,
but the sun is still shining on me.

It hurts me inside
to know you’ll inherit
this brilliantly faceted stone-
into one end
pours the blood of nine-tenths,
from the other pours a blinding white light.

How do I show you,
without tearing you down
or stealing your innocent smile,
that living the way
that your parents do now,
off the sweat of a marginal life,
is not at all like
the way that your father
thought he could live with himself?

How can he put on
your shoulders the weight
of his failures to what was right?
How can he ask you
to be your true self,
but to change in ways that he could not?

I though I could stand up
for what I believed,
but I’ve fallen down, flat on my face,
time after time after
time after time after
time after time after time.