Monday, June 30, 2014

THE OLD BRASS HARP BLUES

THE OLD BRASS HARP BLUES
Helene Smith c 2014

Oh glorious azure sky,  mountains of electric 
blue ice,
Now crashing into Arctic waters.
Where, oh where, are the silent voices  for
 Earth's attic treasures slipping out of sight?

Ozone, no zone, bozone,
Ionosbere, ionosphere,
Insensitive personfied vibrations,
From Traitan ice from pole to pole.

Where are the good vibrations,
The harmony of old,
Four billion years,
Natural rays of energy,
Bringing Earth harmony and joy?

Now zapping rays of antennas of distortion,
Like Roman pikes sticking out of the soil,
Hidden secrets and deceeit,
Ragged rays in the northern sky.

Great land the sea breaks against,
Reminiscent of the midnight sun.
In remote tundra, no real defense for elfs,
$30 millions brainwashed cells.

Could it be the secret stealthy five-sided force,
That  causes oceans to rise as icebergs vanish
Out of sight and under the faoming sea,
Lost nature's wonders against Earth's plea?

Masters of Earth's destruction,
Was not the aurora borealus
Enough for man's pleasure?
Or is it greed for control and power?
 
Polar bears having to run,
Their suckling babes at their breast,
Now their natural habitat all awry,
Their world turned topsy turvy.

Slick, sick dead water,
And oil soaked birds gasping for air,
Now the happy songster no longer sing,their song
With King Salmon lying dead on the shore.?

 Earths song of harmony now a five-star burden,
Dark clouds on high shroud us in grim,
Whether weather or freaked out comate,
No good warfare device.

Forty-ninth state,
Once "Sewards Folly,"
Peaks of mirages,
Are but memories now.

We shall not want
Cess pools of man's ignorance.
Let us bring back oh bring back the bonnie blue sky,
Restore us by the viable waters.
 
Make us lie down in fresh new green meadows,
That restoreth our souls.
Not the pounding, pounding, pounding
O Earth or savior.

It's the big and its  brass,
Its the big brass harp blues.
That's bringing us down,'
In the silence of the lamb.

It's the tea in the cup that goes up, up, up,
It's the joy of life that  quickens the mind.
Let's get rid of the big brass harp blues,
I's dance and song that elevates.