Worry

Sometimes I lie in bed and worry
I think about the things I said that day
I think about regrets and unkept promise
I guess I am a knucklehead that way

Sometimes I lie in bed and worry
I feel concern for all the human race
I worry that if gravity should fail
We'd all go spinning off in outer space

Sometimes I lie in bed and worry
Wicked people really cause me fright
What if Hitler should rise up from his grave
And come to cause me problems in the night

Sometimes I lie in bed and worry
I'm concerned as all the galaxies inflate
That countless trillion years into the future
Heat death will become our common fate

Sometimes I lie in bed and worry
I think perhaps I am a worry wart
Which of course is just another reason
To worry I don't worry as I ought

Archie

Archie was an ugly man
Of quite unpleasant face
His nose looked rather ill at ease
And slightly out of place

In fact his nose was quite depressed
And feeling out of sorts
And though it never said too much
Had suicidal thoughts

Archie never had a clue
Of his nose's mental state
But sometimes wondered why it had
Become so quiet of late

It was late on Tuesday evening
When the fire was burning low
That Archie's nose decided
That it was time to go

So striking out upon its own
It started a new life
Finding happiness at last
With an earlobe for a wife

My Bed

My bed, it is a safe place
It's where I like to be
I'm pretty sure that nothing bad
Will happen there to me


To curl up with a good book
My wife beside me there
I can safely put away my fears
My worries and my care

And if it's gently raining
It's even better then
I find it difficult to think
Of getting out again

Sp given that I feel this way
I think it's safely said
There is no problem big enough
That can't be solved in bed

So let's all take the generals
And tuck them tightly in
Tiptoe out, turn off the light
And let the peace begin

Sing for yourself

I love music. Music has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. The greatest connection I had with my father was his nurturing of me as a singer and guitar player.

I remember as a young man I burned with musical ambition. I craved applause and the opportunity to perform. I was certain I wanted to be famous, to make music my life, to be ... a star! Of course that didn't happen. Just as well, really. I'm not cut out for public life, or travel, or criticism, or pressure, or dealing with shifty business types.

Nope, I've had a luxurious musical life, doing what I wanted. It's only recently I've realized it was luxurious. I've always in the back of mind thought of music as a 'means to end', to make money. Now while I've had a little success, in those terms my musical life could only be considered a failure. Too often I've thought of it this way. But that's wrong. 

I was standing paying a bill at a medical practitioner's desk humming to myself and she looked up and said 'Singing is good for the heart.' That thought struck me. She was right, in all kinds of ways. The best reason to sing is for yourself.

Singing is good for the heart.

Tree

Tree, originally uploaded by ordinary-art.

Youth

Youth is wasted on the young
We've always known that's true
And so I have a simple plan
For what we need to do

Remove their youth is what I say
Excise it surgically
Put it in a bottle
And inject it into me 

Intelligent Design

The universe is mostly bare
Cold hydrogen and space
With random plops of galaxies
Like pimples on its face


And stars are born in violent storm
In gravity's dark grip
As nuclei are crushed torn
In fusion forces rip


While on our tiny speck of dust
Of ancient nova scree
The rare phenomenon of life
Began haphazardly


Almost all the life life forms
That e'er drew breath or blinked
Have disappeared unheralded 
Forgotten and extinct


And still there are some bozos
Of religious frame of mind
Who think this mess in which we live
Is majestically designed