Tag Archives: Art

THE PIETA

Audio Recordings / tagged , , , / / by

THE PIETA

Michelangelo
polished the Pieta, polished the Pieta
polished the Pieta

Tired past all tired
polished the Pieta, polished the Pieta
polished the Pieta

Polishing her breast
he fell into a sleep, fell into a sleep in the
arms of the Pieta

When the polishing was done Michelangelo
stood back

The Mother was alive, the Mother had an
Aura and the Mother was alive

And yet the Son, the Son lay dead, the Son
lay dead there in her arms

In the mind of Michelangelo a thought began
to grow

Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy
yet I know

I must take the red black blood, I must take
the red black blood
From his side of cold white marble

I must take the blood within me, I must take
the blood within me, I must take the blood of
death, I must take the blood of death to the
center of myself

Unworthy, unworthy, yet unworthy
in my prayer
I must change the blood that’s there

In the mind of Michelangelo, in the mind of
Michelangelo, in the midst of Michelangelo
the red black blood was changed to light
unworthy, unworthy, unworthy
Michelangelo
the red black blood was changed to light

Then the mind of Michelangelo
saw the light return to marble through the
marble hole in side

Saw the Aura of the Mother
saw the energy of Mary
Saw the energy of Mary through her arms
into her Son

Saw the Christ no more of death, saw the
Christ to be reborn

When Michelangelo lay dying
When Michelangelo lay dying and his
friends were gathered round

They saw him tired past all tired on a cot
within his home

When Michelangelo lay dying
When Michelangelo lay dying, he saw the
statue and the stone

Saw the polishing was done

And fell into a sleep
In the arms of the Mother, in the arms
of the Mother

Of the Mother of the Son.

ONE ROOM SCHOOL

Audio Recordings, Nostalgia / tagged , , , , / / by

ONE ROOM SCHOOL

There were seven students and eight grades
With the inkwells covered to save the braids

The first day of school
the boys all rushed through the door
to fight for their seats
with their father’s initials carved thirty years before

At recess there were garter snakes, and gophers, and mice
which girls who were being chased, and teachers
who had just opened desk drawers didn’t think
were so nice.

At recess you could get on the big teeter totter
on the North side. If you could get high enough,
long enough, you could get a bobbing glimpse of
one of the big boys, hand outstretched for the
well deserved strap.

In winter the pot bellied stove was set up in the
back center of the room. How warm you were
depended on how close you were to the back. The
teacher didn’t always teach from the front of the
class

There was a big tin shield five feet high around
the stove to keep us from burning ourselves
although it got hot enough itself to do a pretty
good job

Any lapse in supervision added to its décor as
we melted our wax crayons into modern art on
its silver sides

It was always great to hear the lessons
meant for other ears than these
and to sting the older kids in spelling bees

In those days outdoor toilets were cricket

and so was the game we played
with firewood for posts
and baseball bats
for bats.

HENRY MOORE

Audio Recordings, Cowboy Poetry / tagged , / / by

HENRY MOORE

Henry Moore was a smart old cowboy
a smart old cowboy was he

Just as sly as a fox
be bought twenty-foot salt blocks
and set them out in West Texas in winter

Where a thousand strong tongues
changed those basic hard foods
into a bunch of reclining nudes

There are times when it bothers my conscience
to see
them hangin’ around London,
New York, and D.C.

Then I remember old Hank is one of the boys
just suckerin’ some dudes with these toys

So I decide not to chip off the bronze

FIRST ART PROJECT

Audio Recordings, Cowboy Poetry / tagged , , , , / / by

FIRST ART PROJECT

It took a long time to pound
a whole keg of brand
new spikes
into the hard ranch yard

A silvery path
paved with shining heads
danced bright in the prairie sun

I stood back young and strong
and proud and knew
that it was beautiful and good

My father thought he had to teach

There was no room for art
in a hard yard
in a hard world

It was a long time before I tried again