Wednesday, February 12, 2014

The true forest, poverty, Gordon Lightfoot and me the old folksinger!

I am totally sick that people can’t see the trees from the forest.  I have a number of FB friends who forward me stories on the homeless and the poor… yet do we really try to do anything about it… and yet things rage in Congress on cutting social programs, people who won’t work... minimum wage.   Nobody wants to live on the street unless they have mental problems... or are poor and unwilling to take a social program... or live in an area where there is no safety net!.

We are happy to pay big bucks to go to a game or movie and look with disdain on anyone who might be standing on a corner looking for a handout.

Other FBers go on and on about people unwilling to work…. without the causes of unemployment or the mere fact that after being down so long they are not fit for public employment because of looks, disabilities or even worse… ignorance. 

We forget that not everyone is born with enough common sense or intelligence to care for themselves...they need help. What if they have no family?

Oh yes let us not forget our red, white, and blue flag wavers who fail to feel compassion for Vets who have come home with mental problems and who “litter” city streets as the homeless. 

As I sat in the cold stoking my woodstove… alone… I thought of a Gordon Lightfoot song I had sung for many years when I was into folk music… and had lots of friends and family.  Got out my old guitar and sang it…I leave the words with you... and I have shared the actual song being played at the end of the lyrics…listen and learn.

Oh the neon lights were flashin'
And the icy wind did blow
The water seeped into his shoes
And the drizzle turned to snow
His eyes were red, his hopes were dead
And the wine was runnin' low
And the old man came home
From the forest
His tears fell on the sidewalk
As he stumbled in the street
A dozen faces stopped to stare
But no one stopped to speak
For his castle was a hallway
And the bottle was his friend
And the old man stumbled in
From the forest

Up a dark and dingy staircase
The old man made his way
His ragged coat around him
As upon his cot he lay
And he wondered how it happened
That he ended up this way
Getting lost like a fool
In the forest

And as he lay there sleeping
A vision did appear
Upon his mantle shining
A face of one so dear
Who had loved him in the springtime
Of a long-forgotten year
When the wildflowers did bloom
In the forest

She touched his grizzled fingers
And she called him by his name
And then he heard the joyful sound
Of children at their games
In an old house on a hillside
In some forgotten town
Where the river runs down
From the forest

With a mighty roar the big jets soar
Above the canyon streets
And the con men con but life goes on
For the city never sleeps
And to an old forgotten soldier
The dawn will come no more
For the old man has come home
From the forest....

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