Life, I lost my words.
Tomorrow is another end.
I cannot see through.

I remember.
The house high upon the hill.
It was so long ago.
But I remember it still.
Those nights when I would sit and watch the night drift by.
Nights that were silent and still.
The air filled with a chill.
Stars shining bright.
A soft glow of moonlight.
the glow of distant city lights.
Perhaps one day a place to go
My imagination runs wild.
Those days when I was a child.
It seems so long ago.
But I still remember.
Those nights so silent and still.
The air filled with a chill.

Tiny ball of fur,
Playing with the Christmas tree ornaments.
The world is your toy
And I chuckle with each new discovery.

Fuzzy little ball,
Curled up in my lap and purring.
With me, you are safe
And I bury my hand in your warm fur.

Sleek and sassy kitty,
Chasing your brother through the house.
Knocking things akilter
And I am aghast at the destruction in your wake.

Purring furry roommate,
Sleeping next to me through the night.
Snuggled in my arm,
I am comforted by your trusting soul.

I am, the least of your worries.
If You know how to talk exciting.
I could save You tears.

Just like the cherry tree blossoms.
I could look.

And see and touch,

your idea.

Ernest Hemmingway: 1899-1961
John Steinbeck: 1902-1968

Thank you Ernest for the gifts you gave
The beautiful paths you paved anew,
And all the scenes your words described,
All the places you took me to.

Thank you John for your thoughtful prose
And the seeds of wonder you would sew,
Thank you for the trips we shared
From East of Eden to Cannery Row.

Hemmingway's and Steinbeck's words
Their master's touch on full display,
Have given readers so much joy
And their wonderous gifts live on today.

I close my eyes to see the devil.
It is the fear that poisons us.

Could I survive the night,

this time.

It ain't fair that you're still on my mind

It ain't fair, though you don't try

Damn! Damn! Damn!...here you are again

I am what I am, and I ain't what I ain't…

And though I've put you down in music and I've put you down in paint

You know I've never really put you down at all

And though the words and music seem to be a little quaint,

It's rock 'n' roll, it's rock 'n' roll…

© Cyrus Dali Vesuvala

You can watch a performance of this song recorded at home recenttly at this link

He thought he had recovered

When The Girl came in his life

A comfortable numbness of the mind

She broke through walls and barricades

He’d hid himself behind

Opening old wounds that he’d hoped

Noone would ever find…

And as she reached out to him

He restrained his own hand

And countered with: You’re barely out of school:

I’ve felt the things that you now feel,

I have stood where you now stand,

Believe me, I’m not trying to be cruel,

When I ask you to be cool,

TRIGGER

Hunting for the trigger

Ever since the well ran dry

Locked in years of silence now

But even so he tries

Yet the trigger still eludes him

And his words they just won’t flow

And though he’s loved her all these years

He sometimes worries that she doesn’t know

That it’s only words that fail him

And though no words come along

He hopes she knows that she has been

His muse in every song

Now around him nature’s turning

And the leaves are turning brown

As the pendulum swings, the alarm bells ring
Time is ticking away
His days may be numbered, with this house he is lumbered
But he’s grateful for one more day

The grandfather clock, like a stoic old man
Stands there for all to see
His face almost clear, bar a couple of smears
Pretends all is well but you’ll see

To his left is a space, that was filled, now is void
Of a clock that was just as unique
The grandmother clock, ceased to tick-tock
In for repair went the wooden antique