Moondog No. 2

Moondog marched
To a different beat
Homemade percussion
Out on the street
He said the world was gonna die
In 4/4 time
And for that to happen to him
Would be a crime

There's one song he wrote
Called Do Your Thing
And if we lived by his words
Our hearts would sing
It's a mantra for a life
It's the Artist's Creed
You'll be a happy soul
Following Moondog's lead

Oh, the mountains may fall
And diamonds turn to rust
But one thing is forever 
IN MOONDOG WE TRUST

gosh maybe i should get T-shirts made.

Moondog No. 1

Whenever I want to get into 
A real spiritual art making mood
There's one composer I turn to
And I'm excited to tell you of this dude

His name is Moondog 
And he's my patron saint
When his music is playing
Is when I love to paint

His childhood dog howled at the moon
More than any dog he knew
And thus he named himself Moondog
This Viking of 6th Avenue

All day long in New York City
He stood on the sidewalk and barely spoke
His eyes stayed closed, and he had a long beard
And wore a horned helmet and a cloak

And because things are often not
Always as they appear
Most people who passed by 
Had no idea of his musical career

He wasn't just some weird viking poser
This guy was a for real serious composer
He wrote symphonies and songs at a dizzying rate
And of course I think everything he wrote was just great

My hero Moondog blessed this world well
But today this is all I have time to tell
I'll elaborate more tomorrow with another round
Of why Moondog to me is so deep and profound

The mountains may fall
And the earth turn to dust
But one thing is forever
In Moondog I Will Trust

Mulling

So today is T U N E S D A Y 
And to my word I remain true
I'll have a song up by 5pm
What it will be I haven't a clue

It might be good it might be crap
You might hear me sing or hear me rap
It might be new it might be old
It might be weak it might be bold

It might be instrumental or with voice
But I gotta buckle down and make a choice
And you know how I don't like making decisions
But with a deadline there's not much time for revisions

Of course, the idea is that it’s supposed to be rough
And anything I post will have to be enough

Tomorrow is Tunesday

Alright here's the plan:
I will begin sharing
A rough, unpolished, and/or unfinished song 
Every Tuesday, aka T U N E S D A Y
Here on the ol’ website

I've posted short little ditties 
Like Poem for a Pigeon
Every now and again 
In the past
But haven't done so 
In nearly a year 

A year!

Well cry me a tear
And hand me a beer 
Tuesday's tomorrow
And that's super near

And I promise this won't be 
Like my weekly essay blog
Which I abandoned as soon as I started it
For daily rhymes instead, thank God! 

And don't cry or fret, 
My rhyme lovin’ pet
I'll still give you daily rhymes 
On that you can bet

Stay tuned . . . .

It is Well with My Soul

It is well with my soul
Take a moment and listen to this
Words by Horatio Spafford
And the tune by Philip P. Bliss

An accompanist for churches
I have been since my youth
I played back in my hometown
And now in old Duluth

The choir sang this tune a week ago
Then yesterday I heard it too
At a high school band concert
So now I'm sharing it with you

Maybe you don't go to church
And maybe you think religion is wrong
But there is no denying 
When a song is a good song

Back at Zeitgeist

I got another gig 
At Zeitgeist Arts Cafe
So that's where I'll be 
For brunch today

Come on down
Come out of your cocoon
Put some yummy in your tummy
And I'll sing you a tune

I'll be there for three hours
From 11 til 2
And I'll cry me a river 
If I don't see you

Saint Hildegard

On this All Saints Day
I thought that I would write 
About a shining influence
I have in my life

All this art I create
And songs I've been singin' 
Did you know I modeled my name 
After Hildegard von Bingen?

She was a badass nun
Back in the day
And wrote the oldest surviving
Morality Play

I'm talkin way back when 
In the dark medieval years
This was a lady highly regarded
Among all her peers

Yup, she didn't just twiddle her thumbs
Out in the monastery 
She was a prolific writer, 
Composer, and visionary 

She wrote more chants
Than any other women or men
She wrote both the music and the words
And never set down her pen

And do you know what? 
This holy moly nun
Also wrote medicinal and botanical texts
Just to have some fun

She was a sage and a philosopher 
Intrigued by all life's mystery
And some even regard her
As the founder of scientific natural history

I could go on and on
About this extraordinary nun
And her incredible life
And all that she got done

She even invented a constructed language
Known as Lingua Ignota
And me compared to Hildegard?
I haven't accomplished one iota!

Little Emma

Sometimes when I've felt mad
Down in the dumps or sad
I've looked at this pic of me
And think how can I feel bad!? 

Sometimes I imagine 
That four-year-old emma 
Is alive and in the flesh and 
Sitting next to me right now 
Little emma next to me, the big boring adult

The moody old Ingeborg adult 
In an endless looped self-created dilemma 
And I perk the hell up and say to myself 
You can't act like that in front of little emma!

So here sitting next to me is a little girl
Dressed as a cat for halloween
And I will always be nice to this little girl
And I will never be mean

Halloween 1986. Kudos to my Mom for the cat ears and makeup.