Footprint Eleven
of
your
sneer ~
of
my
beer ~
Even
fear
of
cheer ~
And fear
of fear
of fear
of fear!
Fear of
being hit by
lightning
from up above ~
But most of all
fear
of fear
of fear of Love!
I'm afraid
of
going
to hell ~
I'm afraid
of
going
to jail ~
I'm afraid to
sleep
outside
under the mooooooon!
I'm afraid
of
going
broke ~
I'm afraid
of
having
a stroke ~
I'm afraid
of living too long
n' of dying
too sooooooon!
I'm afraid of getting
hit by a train
when
I cross the tracks ~
I'm not afraid of poetry
but
I'm afraid of
all the facts ~
I'm
a-
fraid
of insult!
I'm afraid
of evil women
but I'll
never find a saint ~
Of course I'm afraid
of inhaling
too many fumes when
I paint ~
And
the
re-
sult!
My boss says
it must be my hat
that
it's on too tight ~
Meantime, I'm
afraid
my boss is
always right ~
And I'm afraid
I'm
over forty
now!
I'm afraid of
computers and
too much
responsibility ~
I'm even
afraid
of
respectability ~
But I suspect
I'll get a-
long
some howwwwwww...
Footprint Twelve
So I spun
around again on
thee
old bar stool ~
Didn't want to
sit thare
and stare
like an old fool ~
At
the
ghost
of Davy ~
Gettin'
thick
n'
weighty
With
our
Morning
Star ~
The wild n' free
for whom
I
would only go so far ~
But
glory
glory
glory beeeeeee ~
That damned stool
would-
n't stop
spinning me ~
'Round n' 'round
I went
spinning like a
spinning top ~
At the bar
I
tried to
stop ~
Tried to
order
me
a beer ~
But
Burt
did-
n't hear ~
The wind
of the spin
was
too swift ~
From granny
to 4th
the stool's
gear had shift ~
I saw Ms. Star
kiss
Davy once
and then twice more ~
And the spinning stool
spun
n' spun
forevermore!
But
I am
glad
to say ~
After
half
a
spinning day ~
I
fell
to
the flooooooor ~
Crawled
to
the
doorrrrrrr ~
Kicked
it
open, open
and wide ~
And as I left
Pretty Burt
called out
"See you later, Clyde!"
Footprint Thirteen
Dear
Lord
up
above ~
Hub of
the rollin'
wheel
of Love ~
Today
is
Easter
Sunday ~
And
come
what
may ~
Ye have placed
me
in the sweetest place
I've ever been ~
Inside this haunted
tug
half buried
only you know when ~
In
the
crunchy
sand ~
Of
a hot
forbidden
land ~
Mexican children
chatter and play
around
its buried hull ~
Above which lives
el gringo
who is getting so
old n' dull ~
He hardly ever
comes outta
its
worped old pilot house ~
Inside of which
he's become
quiet as
a knocked-out mouse ~
Day
af-
ter
day ~
Writ-
ing
a-
way ~
And rot-
ting
a-
way tooooooo ~
Beneath this
vast
wind blowing
glowing blue!
Oh
I
thank
Thee ~
For
this
op-
portunity ~
To
express
so
free ~
My tattered
be-
lief
in Thee...
Footprint Fourteen
A tramp in the chapel
of the mission
the mission of
No Return ~
Sang for the meal
just licked
up and the bunk
for which he yearn ~
Ohhhhhhh
to Jesus
he
done sing ~
Ohhhhhhh
to the Light
he
done cling ~
'Til
real-
i-
zation up n' sting ~
Like a bee
with
a broken
wing ~
His
empty
brain dead
head ~
Something like this
the real-
i-
zation said:
"Once a
praying boy
now a
praying man ~
"Like a
braying mule
I'm just a
hired hand ~
"Adrift and out
of work
in a
burning land ~
"Once a
yearning boy
now a
yearning man ~
"Wishes he
was
a holy holy holy
monk instead!"
Thus was
the realization
in
a homeless man's head ~
As he
sat
and
sang ~
In
a
singing
gang ~
A
singing
motley
crew ~
Singing
for
their
stew...
Footprint Fifteen
Later
outside the mission
the moon-lit mission
of No Return ~
While
standing there watching
the end
of his cigarette burn ~
One tramp amongst
many
lost
in the night ~
Said to thee
eternal
infinite
living Light:
"I am
blocked
from
Thee ~
"To such
a
massive
degree ~
"That
I am
a mongrel
spiritually ~
"What is this
big block
blocking Thee
from me?
"Why
can't
I
be ~
"Spirit-
u-
al-
ly a pedigree?
"Ahhhhhhh
to
crack
this dam ~
"This
con-
crete
dam ~
"This
Hooooooo-
ver
Dam ~
"With a
big
o'
ca-blammmmmmm!"
~ top ~ ~ bottom ~
Vampirella gets away from Boris Vallejo... The Ansel Adams shot taken in 1942...
Ansel Adams
http://www.anseladams.com/famousanseladamsimages_s
Boris Vallejo
Vampirella
http://www.carter-stephenson.co.uk/vampirella.htm