November 27th, 1974

Sitting in a class, preparing for a test,
Sitting in a church, preparing for a song,
Sitting in a car, preparing for a trip,
Sitting in a room, preparing for a meal,
Sitting and waiting during a day of my life,
And just sitting.

November 22, 1963, 1975

Twelve years ago, but
 does it seem that long?
Well, anyway, twelve years
 ago, but so much has changed!


Twelve years ago, on
 a cold but sunny day,
like the Beatles, space race,
 and the big and powerful--Watergate.


Do you mind?  Twelve
 years ago, on a cold but
sunny day, the happy crowd
 of faces watched in horror,
while a leader was taken from us.


Woodstock, Vietnam, two
 more political killings, not
to mention an economic crisis
 and the end of the Cold War.


If you are so persistent
 to interrupt me, then maybe
you should examine your
 heart and tell me what you feel.


Mini-skirts, Glitter rock, Liberal
 morality, Terrorism, Crime rise,
Women's Lib, protests at college,
 co-ed dorms, drugs, and liquor.


Can't you answer a simple
 question, as to what is in
your heart?  Hate?  Love?
 Compassion?  Resentment?


Nostalgic Apathy.  LBJ,
 RMN, HHH, KKK, FBI, CIA,
SAC, GRF, ABM, John Denver,
 ITT, Chicago Seven, SST,
McGovern for President, Spiro.

A Note to a Critic, 1973

 Sometimes, a writer comes to a place where he can't write anymore.  He's run-out of things to say, so he thinks.  What this world needs is thinkers, not doers.  A person that thinks and does is a lot better than a person that does and thinks.  Think about it.
 Another example that the author is crazy beyond repair.

A Note on Me, 1973

I hate my sad poems,
 because they are true.


I love my love poems,
 because they could be true.


I love my love,
 because she's with me.


I love my,
 because it's there.


I love,
 because it's me.

Not Now, 1978

And the wind blew again.


If you are happy, then
I am happy, but then
I'm glad you decided to
stay based on your raise.


Was it a raise or just
not wanting to leave
I don't care, but what
I care about is my friend.


Had you gone, I would
have hoped that we'd keep
in touch through parties or
things in general, now work.


No more songs, no more
plays, just me saying
hi and maybe one day--
goodbye----what?


I want to stay because
we are a team, and our
work shows that fact
so thanks for staying now.

The Normality of A Person, 1968 or 1969

Why?--Unknown
What?--Normality
Who?--Walter Durst
When?--Specific Times
Where?--Many Places
How?--The question is Why? and How? is Walter Durst a question of Normality.  The answer can be many things.  1.  Football games, 2.  Acne and Face, 3.  Anatomy, 4.  Mental capabilities, and 5.  Habits.


1.  Football games--a normal person yells till hoarse in a football game.
2.  Acne and Face--a normal person can lick this problem.
3.  Anatomy--a normal person has Regular clothes.
4.  Mental capabilities--a normal person acts his age.
5.  Habits--a normal person goes along with trends.


Why?
Walter Durst does not yell until hoarse at football games.  He is not easily excited.  All of the medication, the doctor's appointments, and the parental guidance does not cure this problem.  His thinness makes all of his clothes to be altered, this is a complete bore.  He still plays with toys and follows some acts of a 6 year old.  On the other hand, he acts in some ways as older than 15.  He lives in imagination.  He still bites his fingernails.  A nervous case is Walter Durst.  He worries about little things.  He is afraid of many people.  He pretends to be somebody he isn't.  He has played as a policeman, a detective, and a secret agent.  Isn't this a little old for 15 yrs. old.  He tries to be likeable, but he has more enemies than friends.  He is a loner.  He is happy as an individualist.  He is happy as a person who likes to be by himself.  He still rides a bike.  He has friends who drive cars but he is afraid.


Why?
It is deep to understand.  He wants to be independent, to have his own ideas, to be a person not a puppet.

No News Is Good News, 2007

I was walking down the street,
When I saw a man,
He looked like somebody I wanted to meet,
And he said to me--no news is good news.


I didn't know what to say,
All he did was smile,
But he made my day,
At least for a while.


No news is good news,
Those are words he said,
No news is good news.
Was it something he read?


He walked right past me,
And didn't say any more,
I followed him 'cause I wanted to see,
I'd never seen him before.


He looked back at me and said
No news is good news,
It hit me in the head,
I am so confused.

Nobody Cares, 2006

1.  Hey, How's it going?
2.  Oh fine (depressed)
1.  What's the matter?
2.  Nothing
1.  You don't want to talk about it?
2.  You don't want to know.
1.  Try me.
2.  Okay, nobody cares.
1.  What?
2.  Nobody cares.
1.  I care.
2.  You do?
1.  Yeah, I care.
2.  Thanks, that means a lot.
1.  Um...what am I supposed to care about?
2.  Me
1.  Oh, I thought you meant who was going to win _____________.
2.  Great.
1.  Okay, see ya.
2.  Nobody cares.

1978

Keep me in your
Arms if you think you
Really can and if you
Even think you may.


Not to say you're
More than me, but
In my life the
Living is such that
Life takes me in.


Everytime with you
Reaches all corners of my being.

1973, 1974

Delta Psi Omega
Who's Who in American Junior Colleges
Denmark Society
Associate of Arts degree--Anderson College
Europe
Belk
PC
"Midnight Man"
"Blithe Spirit"
staff of "Ivy Leaves"
Harvard debate
helping Jimmy Sitton twice


Pointing out all these
things isn't enough,
because without the help
of prayer and God's guidance,
all of this would not have been possible.


Also, I would like to say
that God doesn't grant requests
for selfish goals, but for goals
that may be beneficial.


This is my belief,
Believe and be comforted.


Happy Birthday.

1969 becomes 1974

The Woodstock Kid went to
a place where typical Woodstock
stuff happened with no argument.


Stuff like beer, singing, smoking,
and other assorted goodies, and
the good old days had returned.


But, the Kid felt that all of
this was somewhat useless and
asked why did we would do it.


Why does a group of people,
who knows that the party won't last,
subject themselves for moment laughter?


At 1:00 a.m., the Woodstock Kid left,
saturated with smoke, and he doesn't
know what happened after he left.


The Woodstock Kid is a rare breed,
Because he's one of the few hippies left,
And then you've got a lot of folk-singing drunks.

Nightmare on Main Street

 It was a dark and stormy night.  The children were nestled all snug in their beds, even if it wasn't Christmas Eve.  But, on another side of town all was not well.  People walking by a large structure on Main Street heard screams coming from inside.
 The police were summoned.  Two hours later, they arrived.  The screams were getting louder, but no one knew how to get inside the building.  They tried banging on the glass, but nothing broke.  A helicopter landed on the roof, but that door was locked and no one had a key.
 The screams continued.  Someone called Mr. Rooney's house to tell him about the excitement on Main Street, but his wife said that he hadn't come home.  Worry started to set in.  A woman, who had a baby, had another one.  Who could be in the building?  Similar attempts to find Sue Lear, Mary Ann Barnes, Clara Bradwell, and Rose Grantham had the same results.  They weren't at home.  The worst was feared.  They were being held hostage by a crazed maniac with a hockey mask and an ax, who went by the name of Jason.
 A large crowd had gathered outside.  A figure could be seen walking toward the front door.  The SWAT team had their guns focused on the shadow.  Out of the dark and into the light came Mr. Rooney to open the doors for the Moonlight Madness sale.

New Orleans

 I detest autobiographies, since most people forget the bad things or glorify the good things, so that all people turn out being something short of a saint.  Needless to say, I have not been considered for sainthood, even though I certainly deserve it.  So, my story will be interesting without being above life, or at least I'll try.
 I was born in New Orleans, Louisiana on June 17, 1953.  My father was associate professor of Religious Education at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary.  I do not remember much about New Orleans, since I left when I was five, but the beginning and shaping of my psyche was in New Orleans.
 My fear of going to the doctor was born in New Orleans.  My doctor would mix pain with pleasure.  His office was on the second floor of a building, and you had to walk up a flight of wooden steps to get to it.  The building was old and dark, and the walk up was reminiscent of going to the gallows.  I was constantly getting shots for one thing or another, and the nurse would give me the shot and then a lollipop.  I was a crier, too.  I loved to cry and soon learned that if I cried, my mother would cuddle me.  I was pretty smart for a kid, even though my threshold of pain was pretty low, too.
 When I was about three, I had an operation for a hernia.  I didn't know very much about what was going on, but I knew it hurt, and after the operation, I had to learn how to walk again.  My parents and my brother, who was 7 1/2 years older than me, would take turns in getting me to walk.  I kept saying, "Easy does it!", but I felt my insides were going to come out.  Naturally, I'm not a big fan of doctors.
 The city did not mean much to me, except for the pleasure centers, such as the zoo, the park, the river, and the neighborhood, but I had fun anyway.  After all, the main responsibility for children before they reach school age is to have fun.  My first lesson into the law and preservation of nature came from visits to the zoo.  I still have a very warm spot in my heart for animals, except dogs.
 There was one dog in my neighborhood, which to a child of four looked like a Great Dane.  I do not remember if it ever bit me, but I am sure that it wanted to.  This was the time before the leash law was in effect, and I would be coming home from kindergarten, or actually running, with the dog on my heels all the way to my front door.  I suppose he wanted to play, and to all you dog lovers--I am sorry, but to this day I HATE DOGS!!
 Our house sat on a filled-over swamp.  In the summer, the mosquitoes would come to nest and take up residence next to our house.  We also had a problem with little green lizards, and it would not be uncommon to come home and see a lizard crawling around in the house.  Of course, New Orleans was relatively civilized, but the climate was enough for it to be classified as tropical.  Tarzan could have fit right in.
 My first lesson in sex education came when I was five.  My friend, Paul Price, had a chicken egg, which he was hatching thanks to an incubator.  He invited me over to his house to watch the egg become a chick.  It was very interesting and very embarrassing.  I really don't know why.
 One thing about me is that I am loyal to any situation.  I was loyal to New Orleans, because it was where I was born, and I would not let anyone criticize the city.  I was also loyal to my friends, and it just about crushed me when I had to leave Paul Price.  My father got another job in South Carolina, and we had to move away.  I did not understand why we had to go, so I gave Paul some crayons and left.  The scene would really make a good tearjerker in a movie.  We left, and I've only been back to New Orleans once since then.

The Wreck

The time has come,
No one knows that's it,
The rich man and the bum,
Will all fall into a pit.


Someday they will die,
Someday they will suffer,
Someday they will lie
In a grave with their muffler.


Yes, they will perish,
And no one will cherish
The end.

The Ballad of Johnny Star

This is the story of Johnny Star,
He went one day to a bar,
He got drunk,
And boy he stunk,
Johnny Star the skunk.


Johnny Star went to a well,
On the top was a little bell,
He rang the bell--ring, ring, ring,
And boy did he sing,
Johnny Star is a ding-a-ling.


Johnny Star is a bum,
All he is, is a dirty scum,
Nobody can stand him,
Not even the light that is dim,
Johnny Star can't swim.


One day Johnny Star did die,
Everybody said, "my-oh-my",
Johnny Star is real gone,
All he was, was a ding-dong,
Now I've sang my little song,
Of Johnny Star,
Who is so far
Away.

Sometimes

Sometimes life is a bore,
And sometimes life is nice,
Sometimes I don't care anymore,
And sometimes it is paradise.


But most of life is fine,
Except some of mine,
Life is sometimes right for me,
But sometimes not, don't you see?


I wish it would be all right,
I know that can't be true,
Life is just day and night,
Sometimes I'm happy and sometimes I'm blue.


Nothing is left for me to say,
For me, this has been a good day,
Sometimes I roll up into a ball,
I'm glad I didn't run into a brick wall.

Sounds

Why wasn't life made to be
The kind of life I want for me?
Everyday pressure mounds,
And there are many sounds.


Sounds of day and sounds of night,
Sounds of blacks and sounds of whites,
We've got all the sounds of life,
The husband worries about sounds from his wife.


Let us have peace,
Let sounds cease,
Let us be silent,
And not get so violent.

The World

I was listening to the news today,
Not all of it was happy and gay,
I heard of wars in the Middle East,
And it turned out to be a blood feast.


I heard about a war in Vietnam,
Where the land is anything but calm,
40,000 men have died from here,
Parents are shedding many tears.


I heard of starvation and people that are sick,
Oh, I wish I could give myself a good, swift kick,
Why doesn't anybody care,
It just isn't fair.


If we, the people, could do something about it,
Everyone do just a little bit,
The world would be a better place,
That we, the people, could stand and face.


We have problems with land, water, and air,
In a few years, people on this earth will be rare,
If there are no problems, then I lie,
Because at the rate this world is going--
We are going to DIE!

My Trip, 1969

On a trip one day,
In the month of May,
I saw a stream,
How cold it did seem.


It traveled over stone and rock,
And to each stone it did knock,
I waded out in my bare feet,
And off a foot went all my meat.


It hurt so terribly much,
And tingled to the touch,
So I got out to dry,
So on land I could die.


Everybody tried their best,
But they ended to be just little, old pests,
I'll never forget that trip,
After my little dip,
In water,
Now my daughter,
Won't believe me,
Don't you see?

My Experience, 1970

I saw something a few years ago that I'll never forget,
It was a foggy morning--it was wet,
I went to a chapel on the top of a hill,
I saw a sight that my soul was filled--
With wonder and awe,
It was Heaven that I saw.


It was gold and tall--on the horizon it stood,
It seemed to be quite good,
There is not a city that can comprehend it,
But there is something I have to admit,
No one else saw it,
Protestants, Catholics, and Jews believe what I saw.


But how many have seen,
Except those who've been,
There was not a city near that place,
Now I'll run life's race,
And I'll have it in my heart,
That's a start.

My Day, 1969

Every day is a great day with you,
You make my day, yes you do,
I want to be your friend,
I want you to be mine, too,
Every day is my day with you.


When the sun is up,
I think of you,
When the stars shine,
I think of you,
Yes I do,
I do.


When I leave on a trip,
I think of you,
When I feel I'm going to be sick,
I think of you,
When I'm alone and feeling down,
I get on the ground,
And think of you.


Every day is a great day with you.

The Mustard Bottle, 1971

 It was a hot and balmy evening.  There were three of us.  The other two, besides myself, were Tom White and Bill Black.  We were staying at a mountain resort near the North Carolina-South Carolina border.  The resort had seven buildings.  They were:  the cafeteria, the main office, the gift shop, the auditorium, and three motel-like living structures.  This visit to the resort was our eighth time to be there, so we knew just about everybody.
 We had just walked into the auditorium, through the white, wooden doors, when we were greeted by a group of people that called themselves the "welcoming committee".  They told us that they we so glad to see us.  We didn't know why.  Then one of them told us, "We want to give you a reception that you'll never forget."  Tom White asked them by saying, "What do you mean?"  At that moment, they pulled out, one by one, many spears.  What did this mean?
 We figured that they were up to no good.  We started for the door.  It was blocked by two very big guys.  So, we made a run for it.  About this time, the "enemy" were starting to throw their spears.  We got behind a few chairs, but that didn't do any good.  Bill got the bright idea to try to get to a higher place in the building so that the enemy would have to strain their arms as they threw the spears.  Where could we go?
 There was an opening to the attic.  Bill thought that we could hold up there.  We climbed on the top of a desk and propped up a chair on top of the desk.  The spears were coming close now.  Tom caught a spear in the leg, but it was just a flesh wound.  We used his handkerchief to stop the bleeding.  I saw a man leading the attack against the "GOOD GUYS".  I didn't know who he was.  Who was he?
 I heard one of the enemy say, "Okay, Mr. Forest."  Then I knew.  It was the famous spear thrower, Joe Forest.  He was leading the attack against us.  They were closing in fast.  How could we fight back?
 We had been to the canteen, and we bought a bottle of mustard.  It was the yellow kind that is used on hot-dogs.  The bottle was small enough to carry in a pocket, or it was about an eight ounce bottle.  Bill was using the mustard on Tom's wound, so that, it would work as a disinfectant.  Bill had put too much on his hand, so he slung some toward the spear-throwers.  The mustard hit one of the enemy, and he disintegrated.  So, we started to get globs of mustard and threw it at the people causing them to die.  We had killed half of the enemy when we saw that we were just about out of mustard.  Tom was fit for traveling so, we left for home.  We jumped in our car and drove off.  Unfortunately, they saw us leave, so they came after us.  It turned into a high-speed chase.  We reached my house a few minutes before the enemy.  Our next-door neighbors looked out their windows at our futile escape.  There was only one place near my house that was high enough for the stand-off.  It was my neighbor's slide.  Since Tom was unable to fight, Bill and I left him in the car while we prepared for the attack.  We had just gotten on the top of the slide when the enemy came.  The spears hard been sharpened.  Forest spotted us and led his army after us.  They were bunched up together, just a few feet below us.  The only thing separating us from them was a concrete slab, about three feet long and a foot wide.  I threw the bottle of mustard, with all my might, at the concrete slab.  If I missed, then we would be killed.  If I hit the slab, then we would have killed the enemy.  The bottle hit the slab, causing mustard to go over every person with a spear.  With a blink of the eyes, there was nothing left but about 15 spears lying on the ground.  Bill and I picked up the spears and put them in our car.  We were wondering who was behind it all.  Why did it happen?
 Maybe, they didn't like us.  It really doesn't matter very much anymore.  If you are very anxious to know the reason, then put globs of mustard over your body and after you disappear, ask someone who was there to explain it to you.  When you find out the reason, you will see that it really didn't matter after all.

Murder, 1971

Follow through life,
You kill a boy,
He screams and shouts,
So what?

Morning, Noon, and Night, 1969

Morning, Noon, and Night,
Everything is all right,
The sun comes up before the moon,
That day in June.


One day at half past seven,
All the suns' rays go to heaven,
Toward the middle called noon,
A boy comes out with a balloon.


Into the night it gets very dark,
The only thing you hear is a dog's bark,
The day in June has ended,
And no matter what has happened,
It can't be mended.

Morality, 1973

If the world would end tomorrow,
 then where would we be today?


But the world will not end-forever,
 because peace in one's heart is eternity.


Eternity is brought forth, thanks
 to a joy in one's soul that can't be explained.


Explanations are for logical people,
 but I just know it's there.


If it were not there,
 then the world could end tomorrow.


If the world would end tomorrow,
 then where would we be today?

Moral

One day, a man said, "Hey Man, there's somethin' happenin' in this land."  The other man said, "No Man, you jivin' me."  The first man said, "Yeah, you're right, Man", with which he walked off.  Suddenly, the first man was hit by a truck.


The moral of this story is, "Don't doubt what you hear, because trucks will run across you path."  Whatever that means.

Money, 2006

#1.  Money, money, money, money
#2.  Some people got to have it.
#1.  Some people really need it.
#2.  Some people are obsessed by it.
#1.  Some people want to give it.
#2.  Some people want to take it.
#1.  Some people abuse it.
#2.  Some people lose it.
#1.  Some people work all their lives for it.
#2.  Some people have inherited it.
#1.  Some people are stingy with it.
#2.  Some people flaunt it.
#1.  Some people wish they didn't have it.
#2.  Some people dream of having it.
#1.  Some people gamble for it.
#2.  Some people lose their families by not having it.
#1.  Some people can't live without it.
#2.  Some people die because of it.
#1.  Some people can make others' lives better with it.
#2.  Are you "some people"?

A Moment In Time, 2006

(One guy looking off into space, oblivious of what is going on around him.  Two guys enter from opposite sides)


#1.  (to 2nd guy) Hey, how's it goin'?
#2.  Fine, and you?
#1.  Couldn't be better.
#2.  How's the wife and kids?
#1.  Great.  Your job going well?
#2.  Yeah.  I closed a big deal last week.
#1.  Glad to hear it.  (notices the guy staring off into space)  Hey, who's that?
#2.  I don't know.  I never saw him before.
#1.  I don't think he's from around here.
#2.  What's he looking at?
#1.  Let's go see.
#2.  Hey, buddy.  What are you looking at?  (no answer)
#1.  Maybe he's deaf.
#2.  (gets louder)  Hey, buddy.  What are you looking at?  (no answer)
#1.  (taps #3 on the shoulder)  Hey you.  (#3 looks up, #1 gesturing while talking)  What...are...you...
       looking...at?
#3.  God.
#2.  (to #1)  Oh, he's one of those crazy people.
#1.  Yeah, you want to grab some lunch?
#2.  Okay, what about him?
#1.  Oh, let him sit there.  He's not bothering anybody.
#2.  Where do you want to eat?  (as they exit)
#1 & #2.  (turn around and yell at #3)  STUPID!  (laughing as they exit)
#3.  Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.

Miranda, 1990

Falling down from the space
of a lonely dream
Wishing hope that you'd come
back to see me
Wanting you to come to my arms again,
My Miranda.


Knowing you don't feel my pain,
Caring whether you live or die,
Wanting to laugh with you again,
Sweet Miranda.


Miranda (you're the joy of my life)
Miranda (I want to make you my wife)
Miranda (I want to spend my whole life with you)
Miranda.


Drowning in my tears for you,
Calling out your name at night,
Trying to forget your face,
My Miranda.


Miranda (where are you)
Miranda (I need you)
Miranda (please call me)
Miranda.


Wishing the phone would ring
Looking out the window for you
Dying 'cause you're not here
Sweet Miranda.


Knowing you laugh at me,
Dreaming you were back to stay,
Wanting you next to me,
My Miranda.


Miranda (you're not coming back)
Miranda (I'm already packed)
Miranda (tell me where you've gone)
Miranda.


Living in a fantasy world
Knowing you belong to another guy
Loving you but never having you
My Miranda.

The Midnight Ride of Walter Durst, 1971

Listen my children while you ride in your hearse,
Of the midnight ride of Walter Durst,
It was 19 hundred and 71,
The moon had risen on the setting sun.


It was four o'clock in the afternoon,
The old lady was swatting the fly with her broom,
It couldn't be found,
The king put on his crown.


Now, back to the story.


Walter Durst had a horse,
Of course,
He came to a house,
Someone called him a louse.


He cried and cried,
Through all his eyes,
Thus ends the tale of Walter Durst,
Who happens to be the worst person who ever had his bubble burst.

A Meeting, 1973

Today we had fun,
We talked over old times,
But we passed them by.


Today we met,
Like times before,
But this time was different.


Today we touched
The deepness of our hearts,
But just touched.


Today she left
And went her way,
But there remained the memories.


Tomorrow is coming,
We can't stop that,
But where do I come in?


A meeting of minds,
Of hearts, of love,
Is more important than life.


Whatever happened to yesterday?