Wednesday, November 8, 2017

John Denver The Box 1973



This poem The Box was written about 1912 by Lascellas Ambercrombie -





Kindly Do Not Touch.

Once upon a time, in the land of Hush-A-Bye,
around about the wondrous days of yore,
they came across a kind of box,
bound up with chains and locked with locks
and labeled "Kindly do not touch; it's war."

A decree was issued round about, and all with a flourish and a shout 
and a gaily-colored mascot tripping lightly on before. 
Don't fiddle with this deadly box, or break the chains, or pick the locks. 
And please don't ever play about with war.

The children understood. Children happen to be good
and they were just as good around the time of yore. 
They didn't try to pick the locks or break into that deadly box.
They never tried to play about with war. 

Mommies didn't either; sisters, aunts, grannies neither. 
They were quiet, and sweet, and pretty in those wondrous days of yore. 
Well, very much the same as now, not the ones to blame somehow
 for opening up that deadly box of war.

But someone did. Someone battered in the lid.
and spilled the insides out across the floor. A kind of bouncy, bumpy ball 
made up of guns and flags and all the tears, and horror,
and death that comes with war.

It bounced right out and went bashing all about,
bumping into everything in store. 
And what was sad and most unfair was that it didn't really seem to care 
much who it bumped, or why, or what.....or for.

It bumped the children mainly. And I'll tell you this quite plainly,
it bumps them every day and more, and more, and leaves them dead,
and burned, and dying, thousands of them sick and crying. 
Cause when it bumps, it's really very sore.

Now there's a way to stop the ball. It isn't difficult at all. 
All it takes is wisdom, and I'm absolutely sure
that we can get it back into the box,and bind the chains, and lock the locks. 
But no one seems to want to save the children anymore.

Well, that's the way it all appears,
cause it's been bouncing round for years and years.
In spite of all the wisdom 'wiz since those wondrous days of yore 
and the time they came across the box, bound up with chains

and locked with locks, and labeled "Kindly do not touch; it's war."

Tuesday, November 7, 2017

Chicago_When All the Laughter Color My World


                                                                                                                                                              "When All The Laughter Dies In Sorrow"

When all the laughter dies in sorrow
And the tears have risen to a flood
When all the wars have found a cause
In human wisdom and in blood
Do you think they'll cry in sadness
Do you think the eye will blink
Do you think they'll curse the madness
Do you even think they'll think
When all the great galactic systems
Sigh to a frozen halt in space
Do you think there will be some remnant
Of beauty of the human race
Do you think there will be a vestige
Or a sniffle or a cosmic tear
Do you think a greater thinking thing
Will give a damn that man was here