Tarnished Words

Train of Thoughts

This was my first published poem, back in the Spring of '95.  I edited Underground, a newsletter for the young people in the area with a church connection.  We were desperate for material and being teenagers, shameless self-promoters, so we filled it with our own spoutings.
One decade on, new life is brought to an old pome, that probably should never have seen the light of day in the first place:

One Family

Dirty water soaks into your feet,
Unbelief at overwhelming need.
The dead lay covered in sheets,
Cries for help from whomever you meet.

May there be grace for thousands, battered by the storm.
Strength for relief workers, haggard and worn.
New hope for tomorrow, real help for today,
How to be family for those hurting, we all must find a way.

If God will send His angels

Nobody else here baby No one here to blame
No one to point the finger It’s just you and me and the rain
Nobody made you do it No one put words in your mouth
Nobody here taking orders
When love took a train heading south It’s the blind leading the blond
It’s the stuff, it’s the stuff of country songs

Hey if God will send his angels And if God will send a sign
And if God will send his angels Would everything be alright