There is pot on my Bible
there is beer on the floor.
There is a strange smelling smoke
going outside my door.
There is a whole world on fire
like an old Mercedes Benz
it is like hanging out drinking
with someone elses girl friend.
When Jane met Billy
or Jill met Sue
there is a whole world gone insane
sniffing airplane glue
it is like getting left alone
in a concentration camp
with Adolph and Stalin
and a bleach blond tramp.

But oh-oh can’t you see
someone with love is in love with me
and oh oh how do you do,
the pot on my Bible is for me and for you.

There is faith hear to please us
although we are left all alone
it is like a strange burning feeling
calling a different place your home.
When there is dot’s on the ceiling
and patterns on the wall
hoping that someone else is around
so they might catch you if you fall.
Because there are plastic politicians
airplanes crashing into the see
with all of these pleasures
sex is causing a disease
There are naturally born racists
a whole country loosing pride
a rock singer catastrophe
as we watch the music die

But oh oh can’t you see
someone with love is in love with me
and oh oh how do you do,
the pot on my Bible is for me and for you.

This one says that there is four of them
This one says that there is one
This one says it’s only through water,
While this one carries a gun,
Go to pray on Sabat,
Like they did a thousand times before,
Where no one can seam to agree, uh-oh,
Nothings sacred anymore.

One can smoke a cigarette and then sleep where he will please,
While he argues he’s a hypocrite
Who’s always on his knees?
Some say it’s in a the spirit,
Some swear that spirits dead.
As a child you try to understand,
Why certain things were put this in your head.

Eternally saved, I am down upon my knees.
You say you lost your salvation, could you help me find it please.
I have to keep on searching trying to find another way

Some say he came to save,
Some say he came to be,
Some say he saved the Jews,
And the gentiles that would believe.
Some say he will return,
Some say he already did.
All these reasons for debating,
Was he ever really dead?

One verse means this,
While others swear it’s that,
From the same old book of tales,
Without agreements religion lacks.
Some say let us drink this wine,
While others claim that it’s a sin,
Holiness is everything,
If you claim you won’t give in.

Eternally saved, I am down upon my knees.
You lost your salvation, could you help me find it please.
I have to keep on searching trying to find another way

Some claim that they have words
Some say that they put them in there own head
When there is no truth in what they claim
Is there spirituality really dead?
Still some try to make up stories
to get others to believe
When they are to blinded by their lies
To see that no one really will receive

Some claim that it’s a miracle
Some say it’s only chance
If the storm was on its way
Is it my faith that I lack?
I believe in intervention
in the most divine way
But I don’t receive excuses
Just to make up things to say

Eternally saved, I am down upon my knees.
You lost your salvation, could you help me find it please.
I have to keep on searching trying to find another way

Dream of a chariot,
a chariot of gold.
Dream up a song,
or something you can hold.
When you open up your eyes,
tell me what you see.
I am standing hear alone,
are you dreaming of me?
I have lived a life of lying,
and it is easy to see my past.
What keeps my life going,
is the future and it’s task.
I have tried to hold onto something,
maybe it’s that chariot of gold.
I have tried to hold onto something,
but that chariot is getting old.
You bring the breath to dying lungs,
and a dream that is even higher.
What I want to hold onto now,
is the flame of your burning fire.
I will not get burned,
because your torch is a friend.
Your torch will keep on burning,
and our lives will never end.
Dream of a fire,
a fire that burns as gold.
Dream of a writer,
or words that wont grow old.
When you open up your eyes,
tell me what you see.
Your torch is still burning,
does it burn for me?

The king is on the thrown,
with his love by his side.
The fool keeps talking,
while the jesters hide.
The jokers tell jokes,
could they be real.
The fiddler plays the fiddle,
is it love that they feel.
The music makes a different sound,
as the children begin to play.
The sun moves to different place,
to light up another day.
The dawn moves on,
and I can barely see.
The music that was once nothing,
is now apart of me.

A sense of fire was the only word
to stop the flame would be to stop the world.
Sitting on the lookout as the smoke begins to rise,
the bright shining of the fire begins to cloud my eyes.
A sense of beauty was all I could hold
to stop the aging because the beauty is growing old.
Leaning on the bed post, as the passion fills the sky
the aging goes on, and the beauty begins to die.
A sense of air, was floating in the sky
to stop walking would cause my life to fly.
Lying on the hillside as the land slips away
to help the land from sliding
would mean to fly away today.

Their seems to be an untold story,
of lies and hiding the truth.
I remember when I wrote this story I was hiding
in the shadow of youth.
I can’t tell you why we do it,
but it always seems the same.
If I am not living life to live,
then I am playing in the game.
The ball is hard and crucial,
and sometimes it takes your all.
The lies are deadly and tiresome,
when you are standing beware of the fall.
But if you play just pure and simple,
trying to win at the chances that you take,
then look out to the future,
If it’s not theirs’ then it’s your heart to brake.
I wish I knew of some way to tell you,
that my thoughts come out of love.
But you are to busy with your playing,
that when you are down there is no above.
If I use the ball to my advantage,
then I will not make the same mistakes.
I will through it at your innocence.
So it is not mine,
but your heart that brakes.
I am sorry about this story,
and how it has to end.
But the truth was never made for glory,
because now I am not even your friend.
I wish that we could be honest,
and tell the simple truth.
If we could only hide the lies that we learned ,
in the innocence of our youth.

Hey what about that story
of the cannonball faded youth
where they all tried to fight for glory
and the minimal side of the truth.
And they tell me about that teacher
who fought for the side they choose,
but the folks where busy mocking the preacher
with the faded hopes that they would loose.
So they left it up to the children
to fix the city that they brought down
but the children where to bust killing eachother
as they watched the town burn to the ground.
But a few fought for survival
as the cannonballs faded there youth
they all went and built bonds with there rivals
they made there life the living proof.
A big bang goes another hand grenade
a big bong goes another drum
a big statue was made for the truths that they made
as they danced naked under the sun.
so let’s tip our hats to the boys
and the girls of this faded youth
they don’t need no modern toys
as they face the lies we called the truth

1993 -RJC

In any other circumstance I could have been fired and I wouldn’t have cared. I was building my first Vintage Store and waiting tables was just a way to keep a steady cash flow and stay busy until the shop was opened. What happened next surprised even me; you see this was what you call a big top at a restaurant. If you have ever worked in the service industry as a waiter, a big top is generally a party of eight guests or more. You usually have to put together a few tables in your section to accommodate the larger parties. Sometimes you can make good money for service industry standards; instead of waiting on six or ten separate parties throughout your shift you wait on a couple and get larger tips. The problem with this big top was that this was during the lunch rush and not the dinner rush; most of the big tops at lunch time were just a group of coworkers from one of the local technology companies in the immediate area. As in most cases with a group of coworkers at lunch they ask that you split their checks separately. Then as sure as the high tide following the low, there is always the loser in the group that skimps from leaving you a tip, or paying his entire bill in some cases. These individuals were hoping that the bill would all be put together on one tab then they would conveniently use the bathroom or sneak out early before the bill arrived leaving the group the responsibility of splitting their portion. As a waiter I didn’t like having to work the lunch shift, and people like this were one of the main reasons why. I new who this guy was, I saw him every shift, not him in particular, but his kind. He thought that he was so crafty, completely un-aware that he was a statistic, developed and molded by his very own parents.

Right when the bratty adult was about to say something, probably degrading me for working as a server, or demanding to see my manager one of the other guests at the table chimed in and played off of what I said about the all you can eat Mexican Restaurant across the street where you could raise a flag and have the server bring more portions directly to your table. I can not actually remember what was said but it didn’t matter because someone else chimed in. It took the attention off of me and now he had to defend himself amongst his pears. I continued passing out the rest of the checks and then proceeded to run 16 different credit card transactions for 14 guests under $20 bucks a piece, great.

I was pleasantly surprised because a few people left nice little notes like, Good Job! and Great Service! with a sketched in happy face on their credit card receipts, I guess as a way of apologizing for their coworkers attitude or as a way of saying that they know this guy is a looser because they have to work with him every day. They probably didn’t even want him to come to lunch but they had to ask him because he worked in their department and it was easier to invite him along than avoid talking about lunch all together in an attempt to leave him out. As any one who has ever worked in an office cubicle answering phone and punching numbers knows, talking about last nights prime time line-up and what you are doing for lunch is one of the only things that keep you sane throughout your shift. I remember thinking at that point that I would never raise a bratty kid, because bratty kids grow into bratty adults.

Ricky Coburn is a regular contributor to Fashion & Recycling and information website about recycling clothing and Born Activist a blog about organic gardening and urban agriculture..

By the way things have been going,
it is getting easier to see
That it has been long
way to long
since I have believed.

Each day the thoughts keep coming
and the convictions are beginning to show.
So I hope that I will soon be growing,
with the strength to just let go.

I hope that they are real,
these feelings that I feel.
Boy I have made a mess of this temple
it reeks of smoke
it reeks of beer.
I’ve got some work left
to do in hear.

It seems a little bit strange
but I welcome the change.
Because there is nothing left to tempt me.
No more sex
No more thrills.

I am the king of my castle
my decisions
although some are dumb
are all mine
Is this another waist of time,
have I lost my mind?

1994-RJC

They say that sex is deadly,
but a kiss can even be deadlier
if you mean it.