old saint joe
old saint joe hung mistletoe on the
barbed-wire fence round the parthenon
he gazed at the moon and remembered a tune forgotten by poets dead and gone
he dreamed some thoughts and he thought some dreams old jung karl dreamed before
hammered out a mask of symbol brass and hung it on the knob of the cathedral door
he says the story that i have for you may not be fact but still is true
why the sea is green the sky is blue
on ancient cavern walls we drew our memories to keep from slipping away
in the old black hills young joe did walk
and afar-off saw him a fire
sat around with strangers trading tales of serpents and kings and beggars and whales
and when the night was through and the day was new they all laid em down to sleep
but old joe quit the hills came down to the plains those stories ringing through his brain
he says the tale i tell is known so well
deep in the soul where memory dwells
the kiss that broke the witch’s spell
the phoenix rose where the angel fell and the first man hand-formed out of the clay
he left his abode and sailed the globe where the inscense burns and the ganges flows
saw the priestess dance the cobra trance
what the naga sees what the yogi knows
then he sallied forth for parts up north
and read the old rosetta stone
a birthday present from the fertile crescent
a loom on which to weave yarns
yet unknown
old saint joe treked high and low where the earth-bound mortal can’t
up to apollo’s peak with his trusty corona and typed him up a government grant
and when the red tape cleared and the check arrived it was just in the nick of time
for to bring a larger mythic tale to a world spoon-fed on nursery rhyme
who can tell a story’s worth
deliniate our grief from mirth
the body’s death the soul’s rebirth
the ancient stories of the earth are a song we sang together yesterday
© 2009 by mike helm |
