Friday, September 19, 2014
words
© 2014 Kenneth Harper Finton
LYRICS — THE MUSIC IS ABOVE, THE LYRICS BELOW IT, AND THE STORY BELOW THAT.
Driving down the road I've got no secrets,
no one with me nothing to conceal.
I don't know why I even stopped to call her.
I was feeling good behind the wheel.
My words, said in anger brought her tears
while words, said thoughtfully bring cheer.
Words can make a smile come to her face
or words can bring disgrace.
There's something on my mind that makes my words come out that way.
I didn't want to hurt that girl, she knew I'd like to stay.
Sometimes I need to talk about the trouble that I find
and there within the darkness I can then begin to shine!
Words, said in anger brought her tears,
while words said thoughtfully bring cheer.
Words can make a smile come to her face
or words can bring disgrace.
So I'll go home and try again to make a better day.
Pleasant smiles require such little effort from my face.
I didn't mean to let my troubles get me down inside.
My duty is to wisdom and my downfall is my pride.
Words, said in anger brought her tears,
while words said thoughtfully bring cheer.
Words can make a smile come to her face
or words can bring disgrace.
The night is black and only the streaming glow of his headlights light the road ahead. White dashes – dotted lines of lane dividers – rush by in a stream.
He drives by rote. Traffic is light and he is thinking of what he should do now.
The argument had not been that serious ... or was it?
She had made what he thought was a snotty remark.
“What is the matter with you, girl,” he had said. “You are really beginning to piss me off. I was not flirting with that woman. We were just talking.”
“And that’s why you asked for her ‘Facebook’ address?”
“She’s a world traveler, woman. She goes places. She’s headed to the Himalayas in a month. It would be good to follow her trip.”
“Follow her butt,” you mean, she has said.
The road curves ahead and he slows down.
“Follow her butt,” he thinks. “Maybe I do. I follow all the butts. My God, if you can’t appreciate the rounded hips of life, then what in the hell can you appreciate?”
He should have told her that. Instead, he just got mad.
Walking out the door mad.
It really didn’t occur to him to think about a destination –– a place to head toward –– until he started the engine. Then he realized he needed to pick a road.
He had headed to the mountains. The mountains always make him view himself from a height. The world he left below is becoming visible now, but viewed from afar in a rear view mirror.
He knows the problem. He makes her feel unwanted too much. He’s so damned busy with himself and his own concerns that he does not take enough time to express the appreciation she needs.
She begins to feel uncertain of his love.
It doesn’t take much to go from that thought to: “He is looking for a replacement for me.”
“As though there could be a replacement,” he thinks. They had made a decision a long time ago that there was to be no replacement. They were always there for one another. That was the pledge.
Still, he was a man. Men look at women with lust in their hearts and desire in their loins. They were made that way. Nature herself seems to think it should be so.
Who was he to question nature? Who was she to question nature as well?
“How would you like it if I looked down the trousers of every man I see in the street?” she had said,
The truth is, he would not like it. It would make him feel insecure.
The highway is quite dark now. A startled deer stands at the side of the road as his car swhishes by.
“So I want to possess her?” he asks himself. But it seems to him that she wants to possess him equally.
“Women do not think that way,” he tells himself. “They do not want sex with every man they meet. They have a certain criteria. A woman is the one that makes the choice to possess.”
He seriously doubts that she would lust after every man she meets. That was an important character trait that he looked for in women.
“She’s too snotty,” he thinks. “She is very opinionated. Most men cannot live up to her expectations.”
He suddenly realizes that he is not living up to her expectations either. Regret sits down upon him like the first clod of dirt thrown into his grave.
“Besides,” he thought, “I would not really pursue another woman. One is trouble enough.”
“So it was all about nothing. Much ado about nothing,” he thought. “Someday I’ll have to read that play. It’s a great title.”
To him it seemed easy. He could do it. At least he could try. He could do better. “We all can,” he thought. He has to love her a little more. He has to giver her a little more time and focus.
That being decided, he turns the car around on the deserted highway and heads back down to the valley.
Thanks for listening and reading.
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http://www.kennethharperfinton.com
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
WE THE LIVING
September 11, 2001 holds ugly memories for us. Songs were written about that day, keeping with the old tradition of commemorating important events in song and verse.
This song celebrates the survivors, not the dead. Drink up to their memory, it says, and go on about your life.
WE THE LIVING © 2014 Kenneth Harper Finton
D Bm Em F#m
On a clear September morning, it happened without warning:
G F#m Em A
two flights left from Boston to Los Angeles on time,
D Bm Em F#m
It was so unexpected; both planes were redirected.
G F#m Bm G F#m Bm
The skyjackers had gained control; death was their unspoken goal.
G F#m Bm G Bm / / / Bm / / /
The passengers would never know ... never would know why.
G D F#m G
So here's to the living, for the dead will never know.
Em D E A
We, we the living, are left to choose the road.
G D F#m G
And here's to the safety of the world they left behind ...
Em D A D Bm / / / Bm / / /
and here's to the making of a better world in time.
D Bm Em F#m
In that most fatal hour, both planes hit the twin towers,
G F#m Em A
Where fifty thousand people went about their daily lives.
D Bm Em F#m
All who watched were humbled as both great towers crumbled,
G F#m Bm G F#m Bm
Smoke and dust filled up the sky, as thousands of good people died.
G F#m Bm G Bm / / / BM / / /
All that's left for you and I ... is uncertainty and woe.
G D F#m G
So here's to the living, for the dead will never know.
Em D E A
We, we the living, are left to choose the road.
G D F#m G
And here's to the safety of the world they left behind ...
Em D A D
and here's to the making of a better world in time.
REPEAT LAST TWO LINES AND OUT
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
Monday, August 18, 2014
THE WAY THINGS ARE
THE WAY THINGS ARE
©2014 Ken Finton
“What are we going to tell her, John?
“We just can’t tell her that it died.
She’ll take it very hard.
It wasn’t much of a kitty, I know,
Just a little yellow cat like the ones
You see on every street at night,
The eyes sort of shining like marbles.
It always purred. It even purred while dying.
Oh, John, she’ll take it so very hard.”
“We’ll have to tell her that she’s gone.
She’ll know anyway. You can’t hide something
Like that from a child. Listen, here she comes now.”
“Where's my kitty? Is she still sick?
I dreamed about her once last night.”
“John?”
“You handle it. I’ve got the cows to milk.”
“Where’s my kitty? Is she hurting yet?”
“Honey, no, the kitty died. It won’t hurt anymore.
God has taken it away like he did Grandpa
Nearly a year ago. You remember
How it was when Grandpa left?
He was so sick and frail and coughed so hard
And couldn’t find it in himself to breathe.”
“It was my kitty. God should give him back.
He doesn’t have to take her from me.
He has lots of kitties, I have one.”
“But darling, there is nothing we can do.
She’s gone... John, help me, please.
Don’t just stand there saying nothing.”
"What can I say? You’ve said it all. She understands...”
"I want my kitty."
“But, darling, now your kitty's gone.
It cannot hurt like it did last night.
It fell asleep and cannot wake.”
“Do kitties dream when they fall fast asleep?”
“Why, I don't know, but I suppose they do.”
“Then maybe now she 's dreaming about me
And how it used to be when she was well.
Will God take care of her like I did?
Give her warm milk and scratch her ears at night?”
“Yes, of course, and give her a little house
Somewhere in the stars where she can grow
And have a family of her own.”
"He doesn't need my kitty. Why did he take her?
Why my kitty and not the one that scratches when
You try to pick her up?"
“Yes, why? I wonder why myself sometimes.
I only guess that's just the way things are.”
“I’m going to milk the cows,” John said.
Friday, August 8, 2014
THE TURTLE
THE TURTLE
© 2014 KENNETH HARPER FINTON
Four she is, just four years old,
And she had never fished.
“I want to fish,” she told her Dad.
“I want to catch a fishie.”
Dad could think of no good reason
Not take her fishing.
They went on down to Turtle Lake
One muggy, summer evening.
The birds were gone, the wind was still
The lake was grey and sullen.
She cast a line along the shore
And watched where it had fallen.
Before too long her bobber sank
She had a bite ‘twas certain.
Dad showed her how to reel it in
And she was quite determined.
To her surprise, the line she’d cast
Had hooked a snapping turtle.
She dropped the pole and ran away
As fast as she was able.
“I killed him,” she screamed all aghast
“I’ve killed a lovely turtle.”
She ran into approaching night
Jumped over the bog myrtle.
Dad could only shake his head
And think of his selection
Of this lake to take the child.
It was a valid question.
The next day she said she would try
Once more to hook a ‘fishie’.
Evidently, she’d forgot
Her earlier misgivings.
This time she caught a smaller fish.
Her smile was so contagious.
If nothing else, she learned about
The values found in patience.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
WHAT IS IN THE MIND OF GOD?
 |
| About 1,500 galaxies are visible in this deep view of the universe, taken by allowing the Hubble Space Telescope to stare at the same tiny patch of sky for 10 consecutive days in 1995. The image covers an area of sky only about width of a dime viewed from 75 feet away. |
WHAT IS IN THE MIND OF GOD?
©2014 Ken Finton
People often say, when they do not know the answer,
“Who knows what is in the mind of God?”
People say that “God knows all.”
Take the common conception of God as a divine being
that creates and governs the universe.
Then take all the people here on Earth
and what they all are thinking
and what they all have been
and what they all will be.
Imagine that God knows all that.
Then add all the other conscious forms of life on Earth,
The history of the planet and solar system.
Imagine that God knows that as well.
Then realize that the Earth is a small speck of dust
in a commonplace galaxy.
Remember that there are trillions of stars
and billions of galaxies
and “God knows how many planets.”
Try to imagine a mind that knows all this.
What would it be like?
One thing is certain.
It would not be like the human mind.
It would be more like consciousness itself.
But would God even have a Self?
Is God self aware?
What need would God have for self awareness?
Humans have self awareness.
Some animals have been shown to have self awareness.
Self awareness is a curse and a blessing.
It creates loneliness.
It creates unhappiness.
If God were self aware, God would be lonely.
Does God get lonely?
The self only exists when there is another that exists outside.
It can only be aware of the self
By knowing that there is another
Outside that is not the self.
If God is everything then what would exist outside God
For God to be self-aware?
If God isn’t everything then what is this thing outside
That is not God?
What is a mind?
What are the makings of a mind?
Neural synapses. Connections,
Electrical impulses.
Fields of energy.
Some would call it a brain,
But what use would a brain be for God?
A brain is far too small to hold everything
Unless it is an infinitely large brain.
Who has a head big enough to hold an infinite brain?
Or a tail ... Or a stomach ... Or a foot?
Certainly not God.
God does not need a brain.
If God is everything, then God IS a brain.
Perhaps we have used the wrong image.
Perhaps we should use membrane instead of brain.
Could God be the membrane that binds the electrical impulses?
Fused, united, linked, and bound
Together to create thought?
And then the thought creates action.
We’re getting closer, are we not?
We are getting more godlike in our own minds
By just thinking of that.
What is this membrane made of?
Electrical fields, atomic and subatomic particles.
Quarks and electrons that only have a place in time and space
When they are observed.
Are they only mere observations?
If so, then the observation is everything.
Observation is what causes the universe to come into being.
Observations are the history and the future of all.
Who says that this which observes must be self-aware?
The observer does not need to be self-aware.
The world existed before self-awareness.
The observer has no need to be self-aware.
So, as far as we can tell (and surely we know little),
the universe has only had self-awareness
for a minute fraction of an eternal epoch.
The universe has gotten along quite well
For billions of years without self-awareness.
So do we live in a fraction of an eon
When the mud stands up and sees that there are others?
And does that matter at all to the mind of God
That has no self and no need for a self?
After all, God was ______
Before anything was born
And will be________
When everything has passed away.
It is up to us to fill in the blanks.
That might be why we are here
... to fill in the blanks.
23 June 2014
Arvada, Colorado
Saturday, July 19, 2014
RUMORS
RUMORS
©2014 Kenneth Harper Finton
Who started that rumor
a man shouldn't cry?
When he’s done all he can,
tried all he can try?
Who started that rumor
a man shouldn't cry?
Tears grease the passage
while endings pass by.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
SCREAMING AT ERNEST HEMINGWAY
SCREAMING AT ERNEST HEMINGWAY
©2014 Ken Finton
Damn you, Ernest Hemingway, I said to myself.
Why did you put that shotgun in your mouth?
I know you are no coward ...
I wanted to be like you
And here you go and do this?
Strip it to the bone, you said.
Spit out the meat and get to the skeleton
Because that is the foundation
You need to build on.
Dammit, Ernest. Did you build on sand?
Was the rock too hard for you?
Or is is just that I am young
And you are old and someday
I might put a shotgun in my mouth?
It would not be pretty to think so.
That surely makes a mess
For someone to clean up.
Did you think of that, Ernest?
Did you plan for someone to wipe
Your brains off of the wall?
Dammit, Ernest, you had it all.
I wanted all that too
And then you show me
That it was not having it all
That really mattered.
So where do I go now, Mr. Hemingway?
Like you, I have to write this shit down.
But you made me feel that a crappy future
Is all that lies in store.
So where do I go now, Mr. Hemingway?
Oh, I will stumble though from day to day.
I might even learn some things
You missed along the way.
I will fall and pick myself up.
But you have made me wonder about having it all.
Maybe I don’t want that after all.
I might have to get it all before I know for certain.
Then will I have the same choice?
Will I put a shotgun to my mouth too?
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