Dreams

Dreams

 

I guess I must confess it was Sleeping Beauty                      

Or bright Snow White such a delightful cutie                       

I was young and the big screen cartoons seemed real           

How could they be wrong please tell me what’s the deal?    

 

My dreams never came true how about you?

I was searching for a woman wild and true

Who would love me the whole night through

Dreams are only for the lucky few

 

Carol Gay in her day fought for the working poor

She stood for the union and against the war

Looking fine on the picket line with her sign

At last Carol has passed to meet the divine

 

My dreams never came true how about you?

I was searching for a woman wild and true

Who would love me the whole night through

Dreams are only for the lucky few

 

In the mansion on the hill there’s a huge heating bill

White collared priests in black never do God’s will

Jesus said the right path was narrow and straight

Not in heaven at fifty-seven still forsaking hate

 

My dreams never came true how about you?

I was searching for a woman wild and true

Who would love me the whole night through

Dreams are only for the lucky few

 

They call it the American dream don’t tell the Sioux

If you ain’t on top don’t stop until you get the view

Chasing nothing wake up from the loveless fantasy

We don’t need money honey just come dance with me

 

On the turntable the record sweetly spins

Come take my hand understand nobody wins

Come hear Marvin Gay singing What’s Going On

A crash in a midnight flash and this life’s gone

 

My dreams never came true how about you?

I was searching for a woman wild and true

Who would love me the whole night through

Dreams are only for the lucky few

 GREAT BOOK OF SONG LYRICS

The Big Book Of Song Lyrics, Check It Out!!

In Your Father’s Arms (Remembering Jason Owens)

 In Your Father’s Arms (Remembering Jason  Owens)

 

By John Kaniecki

 

Jason Owens what have they done?

On that lonesome wicked day

Shot you down with their gun

Didn’t even let you pray

To say your final tearful goodbye
To your dad at home in the sky

 

Jason Owens what have they done?

My poet’s pen is cold and numb

They can do you no more harm

You are safe and secure

In your Father’s arms

 

Jason Owens, Mother Earth welcomes you

Another tear

Another smear

On the red, white and blue

The headlines I demand
“MARSHALS MURDER MOURNING MAN’

 

Jason Owens what have they done?

Your life over just as it begun

Never to see Justin grow old

Your grandchildren you won’t hold

I will hold fast to this one charm

You are safe and secure

In your Father’s arms

 

Listen to what the Good Book says

The Sword cuts both ways

Jesus will judge those wicked cowards

But let our cry be heard

Hear my sacred vow

WE WANT JUSTICE NOW!

 

Jason Owens what have they done?

Your crimson blood screams

They called your name

And then let the bullets fly

Oh, to hear your anguished mother’s cry

And the authorities told a grand lie

With no cameras to witness the facts

Wednesday, August 24^th, 2022, a day forever black

 

Jason Owens what have they done?

Another name, another shame, on an endless list

Evil shall persist until we resist

I hear the rustling of the bones of Mother Jones

A nation collectively groans

I point the finger of blame on the institution

With revolution the solution

 

Blow the horn! Ring the bell!

This wicked tale we must tell

Jason Owens, I hope you died not in vain

But that is up to the living

We that seek justice must sound the alarm

Rest Jason Owens a chapter is complete

But even in death there is no defeat

You are safe and secure

In your Father’s arms

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"A Little Bit Further Up On Down The Road" a True Story by John Kaniecki

A Little Bit Further Up On Down The Road

It was on my cross country hitch hiking trip that I found myself in the beloved state of West Virginia.  I was literally in the middle of nowhere. It was summer and the countryside was alive with nature’s lushness. Green trees full of beauty were everywhere to be found. On the road that curved through the hills I would encounter small towns.  The towns were so tiny that it took less than two minutes to walk through them.         

 Years later I would meet a very plump and pleasant woman named Sharon.  She was in my creative writing class.  She would write stories and poetry about her experience growing up in West Virginia.  Eleanor Roosevelt had a big influence in the area getting these towns to do crafts.  Sharon had a nickname that everybody from her minute town would recognize right away.  Like all the people I met from West Virginia she was pleasant and nice. I can readily agree with John Denver when he calls West Virginia “Almost Heaven”.

I remember one day I was walking through a tiny town.  I was tired and I spotted a Church of Christ building. It was little more than a wooden shack.  I wanted to sleep so I just lied down on the porch and used my sleeping bag as a pillow.  It was next to a school and the janitor spotted me.  He came over and woke me up asking if I was alright. I told him I was and I got up and went walking on.  In New York City I could have gotten arrested for such activity. Guess I was as strange to the man as he was to me.

It was around one of these towns that an elderly gentleman saw my extended thumb and pulled over to give me a ride.  Upon my entering his car, he warmly greeted me.  His accent was the strongest and most foreign I have ever experienced.  If I hadn’t known better I would have thought that I had left the United States.  Doug, a friend of mine who is a native of West Virginia claims that it is I who has the accent.  But I believe even Doug would classify this man as having an accent.

The man was kind and talkative. The two of us rode together for over an hour.  I always enjoyed long rides.  I had no particular place to go and no schedule to keep but long rides gave me the impression I was getting somewhere.  When I spoke to the man I tried to imitate his intense dialect. I must have been successful or the man may have been just too kind to expose my ruse.  I recall the words of caution as I left his care. “This here is city folk around here. City folk are nice but not like us country folk. It’ll be hard to get a ride around here. So to help you out, I took you a little farther up on down the road.”

After the ride it was only a matter of moments until I got a new ride.  The man who picked me up was definitely not from the back woods; he was a genuine city slicker. He was dressed in a suit and tie for one thing. His speech had a slight color to it but he could have spoken with that accent in my native New Jersey and not drawn any attention.

This man too drove me for about an hour. Then as he dropped me off he had these words for me.  “This here is country folk, country folk are nice but not like us city folk. It’ll be hard for you to get a ride around here.  So to help you out, I took you a little farther up on down the road.”

Country and city, black and white, rich and poor, crazy and sane, I’ve seen them all in my years. Kindness is not restricted but is prevalent throughout society.  Unfortunately so is wickedness.  But this I know, when you reach an impasse you can count on God to take you a little bit further up on down the road.  The question is “Do you have the courage to accept the ride?”

Read more of my stories in my memoirs "More Than The Madness"