Roll Over Beethoven

by Hank Edson

God help us, we were all an enchanted mob
          Drowning in an unleashed sea,
And you were the leash, the master of us all 
          Drowning in human cacophony
And though the most cultured womanhood sobbed 
          In love, in heaven, helplessly,
The rest of us sang in some bawdy drawl: 
          "Roll over Beethoven and say good night. 
                    Roll over Beethoven, roll! 
          When the sea has risen of its own might, 
                    All must give up their soul!

We who lay bloated, submerged at the surface, 
          Floating on our backs, sinking with fear,
And you who gasped not, but from the first breath, 
          Were sounding depths so perfectly clear,
Were locked like one saving by drowning embrace, 
          The onlookers standing ever near
Singing of struggle in the cradle of death: 
          "Roll over Beethoven and pray to God. 
                    Roll over Beethoven, roll! 
          Though we curse and jeer you, we must applaud, 
                    May God grant peace to your soul!"

How hatred of oneself like a gene is passed 
          By father's abuse to his son.
And how love of oneself is vulnerable 
          To reveal its limitation.
When the prodigy played, how everyone laughed, 
          Scornful of the young musician
Condemned to a deafness universal: 
          "Roll over Beethoven and go to sleep. 
                    Roll over Beethoven, roll! 
          Surrender your cares for the Lord to keep, 
                    But music remains for your soul!

There is no doubt that we need each other; 
          Life requires an exultant state,
For a man will die without loving a woman 
          And a woman will seal his fate.
Beethoven, you made a curse of your lover; 
          Thank heavens she did not wait!
The muse cannot live when abused by a man! 
          "Roll over Beethoven and dream no more! 
                    Roll over, Beethoven, roll! 
          Your lover will love you as never before 
                    With harmony heart and soul!

Passion must be a witness; Love knows no pain 
          Heaven forbade a romantic mood
Lose innocence or spontaneity. 
          We all are false, who falsely brood,
Trapped by ourselves, under internal strain. 
          Only by open attitude,
Comes the revelation that all are free. 
          "Roll over Beethoven and forgive our sins. 
                    Roll over Beethoven, roll! 
          For with forgiveness eternity begins; 
                    There is no end to your soul!"

Copyright (c) Hank Edson 2007

We Can't Make it Here

by James McMurtry

Vietnam Vet with a cardboard sign
Sitting there by the left turn line
Flag on the wheelchair flapping in the breeze
One leg missing, both hands free
No one's paying much mind to him
The V.A. budget's stretched so thin
And there's more comin' home from the Mideast war
We can't make it here anymore

That big ol' building was the textile mill
It fed our kids and it paid our bills
But they turned us out and they closed the doors
We can't make it here anymore

See all those pallets piled up on the loading dock
They're just gonna set there till they rot
'Cause there's nothing to ship, nothing to pack
Just busted concrete and rusted tracks
Empty storefronts around the square
There's a needle in the gutter and glass everywhere
You don't come down here 'less you're looking to score
We can't make it here anymore

The bar's still open but man it's slow
The tip jar's light and the register's low
The bartender don't have much to say
The regular crowd gets thinner each day

Some have maxed out all their credit cards
Some are working two jobs and living in cars
Minimum wage won't pay for a roof, won't pay for a drink
If you gotta have proof just try it yourself Mr. CEO
See how far 5.15 an hour will go
Take a part time job at one of your stores
Bet you can't make it here anymore

High school girl with a bourgeois dream
Just like the pictures in the magazine
She found on the floor of the laundromat
A woman with kids can forget all that
If she comes up pregnant what'll she do
Forget the career, forget about school
Can she live on faith? live on hope?
High on Jesus or hooked on dope
When it's way too late to just say no
You can't make it here anymore

Now I'm stocking shirts in the Wal-Mart store
Just like the ones we made before
'Cept this one came from Singapore
I guess we can't make it here anymore

Should I hate a people for the shade of their skin
Or the shape of their eyes or the shape I'm in
Should I hate 'em for having our jobs today
No I hate the men sent the jobs away
I can see them all now, they haunt my dreams
All lily white and squeaky clean
They've never known want, they'll never know need
Their shit don't stink and their kids won't bleed
Their kids won't bleed in the damn little war
And we can't make it here anymore

Will work for food
Will die for oil
Will kill for power and to us the spoils
The billionaires get to pay less tax
The working poor get to fall through the cracks
Let 'em eat jellybeans let 'em eat cake
Let 'em eat shit, whatever it takes
They can join the Air Force, or join the Corps
If they can't make it here anymore

And that's how it is
That's what we got
If the president wants to admit it or not
You can read it in the paper
Read it on the wall
Hear it on the wind
If you're listening at all
Get out of that limo
Look us in the eye
Call us on the cell phone
Tell us all why

In Dayton, Ohio
Or Portland, Maine
Or a cotton gin out on the great high plains
That's done closed down along with the school
And the hospital and the swimming pool
Dust devils dance in the noonday heat
There's rats in the alley
And trash in the street
Gang graffiti on a boxcar door
We can't make it here anymore

These Yet To Be United States

  
By Maya Angelou

Tremors of your network
cause kings to disappear.
Your open mouth in anger
makes nations bow in fear.

Your bombs can change the seasons,
obliterate the spring.
What more do you long for ?
Why are you suffering ?

You control the human lives
in Rome and Timbuktu.
Lonely nomads wandering
owe Telstar to you.

Seas shift at your bidding,
your mushrooms fill the sky.
Why are you unhappy ?
Why do your children cry ?

They kneel alone in terror
with dread in every glance.
Their nights ["rights" ? - Schrift nicht lesbar] are threatened daily by a grim inheritance.

You dwell in whitened castles
with deep and poisoned moats
and cannot hear the curses
which fill your children's throats.

  
Meanwhile in America

By Hank Edson

Alarming news! In from the New Yorker,
That the health of poor Poesy has gotten worse!
There are many theories and we have from her doctor
That what's bad for her heart is free verse.

"She was desperate," said her husband, Time,
"She had strayed so far that she could not tell
If music was carried away in the crime,
Elsewhere bound, exerting good, hot hell.

Grandson Rap broke in: "What the hammer is happenin?
Man, don't jive, Nana, she live, and rhyme thrive
Like bongos clappin', hands a slappin', an' fires crackin'
At Pop with an edge she give, actin' youn', tryin' to live ~"

Then in with a hush ~ the Government Minister
To read the last rights: "Whatever must be, must be...
Please trust in your will's administrator...
Who we will appoint, whose views are not so lusty."

That's the story; what can we say? Not much.
Our only choice is to become the predator,
Not exactly to devour, but only to touch
Your human fragility; no matter the editor.

Copyright © Hank Edson 2007

Masters of War

By Bob Dylan

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
Till I'm sure that you're dead.