The Color Of Mellow

Thinking that my garden was as disheveled as a Grateful Dead jam, I suddenly felt the urge to break into one.  Reminds me of Saturday night at Headwind House.  

Country Garden Jam

It was the eve of August 9th, in the year 2013.
The air was hanging heavy and the sky was lookin' mean
The clouds began a-swirlin like the smoke from God's cigar
And the windows of the heavens opened up on Waldo scar

A year before a wildfire raged and scoured the canyon clean
And weather folks warned Manitou of a dire and desperate scene
Up til that time there'd been flash floods that washed away some cars
But nothing like the eve of August 9th on Waldo's scar.

An inch or two of rain poured down on Colorado Springs
And up Ute Pass it roared like 50,000 eagles wings
When suddenly down Williams Canyon all the rain that fell
Came a raging flood and a wall of mud that could only come from hell. 

And poor John Collins, I only heard his name next day
As the papers told the tale
Of the only man not to escape 
The canyon's deadly swale.

The comments said John Collin was the kindest man they knew
And the picture of him looked like he belonged in Manitou
His home was up in Teller where the forests clearly show
The devastation from the Hayman fire eleven years ago.

He made his living in cement, but gardens were his art
At Christmas he was Santa for the kids in Woodland Park
They said he was a teddy bear who was known to volunteer.
But August 9th he first became the worst of everybody's fears.

The canyon flood and the wall of mud took homes and stores and cars
And Manitou she took the wrath of Waldo Canyon's scars
Five thousand lives were changed that day, the town they swore to mend
But only poor John Collins was to meet his fated end.

And poor John Collins, I only heard his name next day
As the papers told the tale
Of the only man not to escape
The canyon's deadly swale. 

The townsfolk and the cityfolk with shovels all in hand
Arrived next day in droves to sweep the mud off from the land
Brave Manitou and all her crew would not be taken down
From the deluge and the wall of mud that threatened to her drown. 

The cars were lined for miles backed up along Rt. 24
With shovels first and drinks for thirst the workers they did pour
They bent their back and gave their sweat and when the day was through
The spir't of life returned anew to the town of Manitou.

The restaurants and music shops, the churches and boutiques
Will open soon and the town will boom within the coming weeks
Life will return to normal to the town of Manitou.
And the name of poor John Collins will be known to but a few.

And poor John Collins, I only heard his name next day
As the papers told the tale
Of the only man to perish in
The canyon's deadly swale.

Poor John Collins (The Ballad Of The Manitou Springs Floods of 2013)

Cover - The Animals - House Of The Rising Sun

Melodia Per Una Notte Triste

We Choose The Fear Of The Lord - Cover - Maranatha Singers

Written in April 2010 at the event of my father's unveiling, I have also used it as a backdrop for many sunset pictures. 

The Unveiling

Bryce 2010

Written in 1976 upon the occasion of being called an anti-semite because I did not subscribe to the prevailing Christian dispensational eschatology concerning the nation of Israel. Yeah, I know...a lot of big theological words.  

O Jerusalem

Nighttime by the sea, where rolls the relentlessly rhythmic tide, lulling all to sleep and leaving nothing but peace in its wake.

Nighttime by the Sea

The wind blows cold, the sun hides his smile
You and I stand face to face
A flood of unanswered questions 
Met with only silence
As we huddle like chickens in the rain.

Like Chickens In The Rain

A strange, horrifying chapter has closed in Colorado Spring history.  The eerie silence of blackened hills where homes once stood is all that is left behind.

The Containment of The Waldo Canyon Fire

Numbers of an address, houses on a street, families and treasures, people that you meet
Fire up the canyon, desolation in the heat, smoke envelopes a city, people in retreat
Now it's all history, now it's done and gone, the stuff of generations of prose and lore and poem.
But for the three four six, there's never going home. 

Three Four Six

Coneflower Basement Band

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