03a-Written Verses

Songsmiths if any of you consider taking my words and putting them in a song this is an intriguing proposition. Let's talk about the possibilities and potential.

Amie Mae

Oh Amie may we sing and play

Oh Amie Mae I want to stay

Here with you all day

Let me read to you

Just to be with you

And hold you

Amie Mae I want to hear you sing

“I want more, I want more”

Oh Amie Mae I love you dear

Wish we were close and near

Oh Amie may you always be that way

The way you are, you are so sweet

My heart takes a leap when you’re at my feet

With your little arms reaching up to me

I want to sweep you up

And drink from your cup

Of joy and happiness, hold my face with tenderness

Writers' Block

Pull up to a clean sheet of paper

with a freshly sharpened pencil.

Now your thoughts begin to taper

nothing to do but test the tensile.

Funny how a blank sheet of paper

can wipe out your mind.

Your thoughts were all a caper

now they've stopped you find.

So I put it away to do something else

ended up in the basement

cleaning the workbench and shelves

when I got an inspirational hint.

I charged upstairs to get something

to get this great thought down.

When I got ready there was nothing

to express but a frown.

No, I haven't got writers' block.

Any day now it is going to hit.

Then the editors will phone and knock

and they will offer money, lots of it.

Better clear all these cobwebs off

I know I will be writing soon.

Puff the dust, blow and cough;

make a face and hum a tune.

At the table sits a skeleton

with a pencil in hand loose and lank.

An appropriate epitaph to engrave on

his stone would be; ah, let's see, ah; would be blank!


a small part of me

a likeness I'd like to forget

crude but memorable

sculptured in the likeness of a man

but can I forget all that I am

and remember what I must be

do what U must

B kind I trust

if U

bury me N

F & G

Tales of Woe

(The Unlearned Lessons)

Frogs float on a lily pad boat

on an ocean of tranquility

Soon to find they're in a moat

circling it endlessly

The elephant trusts in its' tusks

his might and power command;

Regal, yet struggle it must,

for survival is not a given

The eagle cries in the sky

riding currents on its' wing

Surely the eagle must die

if it does no other thing

A school of fish make a wish

just once to swim alone

Justice is swift not squeamish

and takes them one by one to God's throne

The butterflies fly through the sky

pictures painted on their wing

Tears wet their cheeks as they cry

because they can not sing

Young Man

Young man, bright man

today is your day.

You need stay on your guard

and study ever so hard

and you have it made.

Young man, tentative man,

hidden in your shell.

I drew you out,

I removed your doubt;

stand up and sound your bell.

Young man, impressionable man

you need to seize the moment.

Life marches forward too fast

to let it slip from your grasp,

do not delay in torment.

Young man, achieving man,

you stray beyond the rules.

Your future is bright,

the oyster is yours tonight

as you sharpen your tools.

Young man, haunted man

you struggle so brave.

You give up the chase,

your future you can't face;

live up to your vows in the cave.

Young man, cowardly man

back against the wall.

You have found your voice,

you say there is no choice

cornered by it all.

Young man, desperate man

gun in your hand.

I know your dream,

I hear your scream,

does he not understand?

Young man, dead man

I sing you this requiem.

A young mans' dream is not met

therefore life he has forfeit;

family should sustain not condemn.


Young man, grieving man

gather at the river.

Your heart beats,

you know not defeat;

your eyes wet and lips quiver.

Old man, stubborn man

make them bow to your will.

You don't understand

how you play your hand

can help them live or kill.

Young man, struggling man

you were almost a goner.

You feel the strain

surging in your veins;

where is your honor?

Oh captain, my captain

you opened my eyes and made me see.

That the most important work a man can do

is what he does for himself not for you.

You have set my spirit and soul free.

Inspired by the movie "Dead Poets Society"

1985 & 1992

Moon Clock

(Luna Ticking)

I wanna see ya pitch a fit


I wanna hear you laugh


I wanna hear you scream,

"Is this a dream?"

Let me see if you can hide

from suicide.

I wanna see you squirm

like a slimy worm.

I wanna see you scared,

see your soul bared.

I know that you have lied

about genocide.

Would you like to cop a plea

of insanity?

You're some kind of cannibal;

you're an animal.

You're no amateur

you murderer.

You grow geraniums

in the craniums.

You use the tanned skins

for your whims.

Life in a Jar - Part 1

No matter where you are

life is better there than life in a jar.

Think of where you are

things could be worse

than life in a jar.

Insulated by glass walls

from the pain of it all.

Sheltered and protected

and sometimes neglected.

Can't get out but you can wish.

You have the same dreams as a goldfish.

Hope to be free,

just like me.

Then what will you be,

on the loose, an escapee?

The thought can be haunting,

free for life but left wanting.

Life in a Jar - Part 2

Life in a jar

beating your limbs against the glass.

You can see through but you can not pass.

Life from afar.

Through a telescope

it appears remote.

From a distance,

through binoculars,

life is solitary.

Life is singular.

A lonely existence

Life in a jar.

Your freedom has been confiscated.

You can't breathe you're being suffocated.

Life without a guiding star.

Life in a Jar - Part 3

Is this separation from the nation

a dividing line just in my mind?

Is it just a question under my hat

or is there more to it than that?

Life in a Jar - Part 4

No place left to hide

when your trapped inside

a jar.

It is like a clear cocoon

with no elbow room

in a jar.

You are a firefly

too soon, too dire, die

in a jar.

Life in a Jar - Part 5

No place left to hide

when your trapped inside

a jar

It is like a clear cocoon

Without any elbow room

in a jar

I am a firefly

too soon I will die

in a jar

Proud as the 4th of July

July 4th, 1990, Wednesday

The crowds milled

waiting to be thrilled by fireworks.

I looked out over the sea,

the faces of humanity, stretched out on

lawn chairs and blankets.

The display began

I was proud to be an American especially today.

July 8th 1990, Sunday

Sat in church today

bowed my head to pray with the congregation.

Opened the songbook,

at hymn 340 I looked and began to sing

"The Star Spangled Banner".

I was impacted in a different manner, far beyond

the July 4th proud

with tears in my eyes I sang loud, the real meaning

of the 4th was clearer

I held this country even dearer to my heart.

Multi-Purpose Couch

The three children played on the couch all

at the same time, immersed in their own reverie.

To one it was a sailing boat plowing through

a stormy sea with waves crashing and splashing.

To the second it was a large truck hauling

a huge load up and around a curving road

requiring great skill not to lose the load.

To the third child it was a fire engine

racing to the scene of a roaring fire

where a flaming building awaited rescue.

The tired mother sweeps into the room

and declares, "Alright!

Everybody off the couch.

I want to sit down and rest."

Broken from their reveries three children

chorus, "Oh, Mom!"

then head to the bedroom

to use the bed for their respective;

boat, truck and fire engine.

There is a silver line in my mind

Drawn with my imagination

Tried to imagine the clouds with that line

But it just divided them into two groups

The dark and the light

And it started a fight

Throwing puffy punches

They cast the shadow’s line upon the ground

And divided up the country

Into what’s yours and what’s mine

But in the end we find that everything is everyone’s

There is not any official owner

The whole of life is a loaner

There are no rich and poor, only those who think they should have more

And they are so mistaken; the goal and gold are fake and

It is only a mind game making us believe it

An elaborate game which will deceive it

And make us think that they have more, when their hearts and souls are so poor

This work is automatically protected the moment it is written down it does not have to be "registered" for a copyright for it to be valid.

All rights and permissions are reserved by the Author, David Alan Binder and may not be reproduced except with permission.



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