Touch the Earth, Reach the Sky

Touching Earth,
reaching sky.

I walk salt shores
where all Souls fly
over joy’s ocean,
under sad bad lands
my faith in quests
we could understand.

Touch this Earth
to feel our sky.

Wise fools ask
our reasons why,
In glad lives
our answers glow,
in sad love
we learn to grow

To heal our Earth
and teach this sky

We are born
while I shall die,
Life’s my time for in between,
to build you a star,
to chase our dream

Touching Earth
while feeling sky

Hugging laughter
feeds my cry,
May I see
what we can give
for future’s child
to sacred live

We touch this Earth
to reach light’s sky

Soaring courage,
healthy high,
All Souls joining
in Earth’s flight
to touch Her right
I reach through night
for love’s last
last splendid sight.

This variation on Grace Lewis-McLaren’s hymn  (#301, Singing the Living Tradition) is dedicated to All Souls-PlanetEarth, especially New London, on the occasion of our Great Return, September, 2021.

Gerald 0’Liver 


My Body

You invited me to bring
some object of great regard,
And so I present My Body.

A marvelous sensory object
perfect in so many feeling ways
I dare not count
or shout
or flout it through my days.

Unlike my home
where some rooms I like
just as and where they are
and others could be larger
or a wee bit smaller,
and further back or front,
less up and more down
to better accommodate this perfectly aging body,

All my inside parts are perfectly placed,
even my mealtime’s exhaustive plumbing space,
I’ve grown systemically proportioned,
and synergetic’ly refunctioned,
integrally ecologized with marvelous winning grace
and apparent co-relational ease of pace,
although dis-ease does threaten inside grief
as outside gratitude
to leave room for younger climate minds;
Who healthy best remember
this cherished
richly robust EarthBody.

My garden would be magnificent
if as organically functioned
as my organs
and my digits
and my senses of magical sight
and sound
and tasty touch and feeling
good wealth object-ives for lunch this day.

I mention house and garden
because these objects, too,
I cherish
and yet they feel less sacred,
worthy of awe and wonder from you
than this body
which I usually cover up,
especially when going out for lunch,
unless you would rather that I not?

Perhaps you would prefer
I had brought what’s left of my right mind,
to more objectively share,
critically compare;
Rather than leave this gloriously embodied self
wide open
for your most remarkably startled glare,

Which was my original nutritional intent, you see
before you asked me,
To bring a specific icon,
my most noble ancient object
worthy of our admiring subjective stare.

And now in closing
I must confess
this body’s shy performance
finds life easier to bear
by imagining your well-seated bodies
in nothing less or more than underwear.


A Last Beautiful Day

It’s a beautiful day
It’s a beautiful day
It’s a beautiful day
to go out and play.

If your name is D,
It’s a beautiful day
for a D through an A
on back to awesome other
DD da-days
to go out and play.

It’s a beautiful day
It’s a beautiful day
It’s a beautiful day
to go out and play.

If ya wanna avoid some trouble
and your Trumps are marching double
time, and climates start to rumble
Inside voices in full tumble

It s a great day
to take your butt outside and play
Go on ahead and freely stray
Come back when you’re ready to active pray
we learn to cooperate our play
before this last green outside day
was safely felt just yesterday

It’s a beautiful day
It’s a beautiful day
It’s a beautiful day
to go outside
this one last tide
to pray and play
a cooperating day.

D D D D day
go on out and play
it’s your last beautiful day
to have a fresh breath play.

It’s a beautiful night
It’s a beautiful night
It’s a beautiful night
to spin out of sight.


Winter’s Time 2016

Winter’s time
and the livin’s not easy.
Snow plows humpin’
and my mouth is too dry.

Well, well, well, well, well
your daddy ain’t rich
and your wallet’s not cookin’.
So sleep little baby,
don’t you,
don’t you cry.

[Insert your own scat blues here. You didn’t think I was going to do all the work did you?]

One of these nightly days
We’re gonna’ rise up singin’;
We’re gonna’ spring our wings
and fly to the sky sky, sky!

And on that great gettin’ up mornin’
there ain’t nothin’ gonna’ stop us,
with Mother Earth
an Father Sun
and spinnin’ bye….

Ba-duh, ba-duh, ba-duh,


Dedicated to all the SADs, especially those working through Advent 2016, trying to keep your winterish cool about TrumpAdministration 2017.


SelfContent Content

Cadence calls collective clans
ricochet katydid
not crackle her crocodile skin.

Crazy kids combine their fares
for riding rickety RinTinTins,
out zipping their yipping files.

Corny crackers crash their lines
lickety slippety splat
finishing race far much too soon
before fine ladies grow fat.

Cadence cries corrective crams
flippety frying flies
falling their crowns upside down
while mothers cry for their sins.