(To the tune of “You Are My Sunshine”)
You are my Jesus, My buddy Jesus
You make me happy, when times are bad
...
So enough you and I
We don’t see eye to eye
I’m tired of trying,
Always ending up crying
...
Dedicated to a few of my lost friends....
“Old Johnny Ray is so quiet, ” they'd say
A smile masking his pain as he went through his day
...
A warm sun is rising over the dawn, its rays are shining bright
Slowly breaking through my fog is a tiny flicker of light
With nothing to do but lay next to you everything can't be more right
Consume me in your presence, please let this last one more night
...
If there is no one above, there’s no place to dream of…
Where the grass is so green, it’s a beautiful scene
If there were any gates, they’d be gold and they’d gleam
...
I am dead
But do not cry for me
Cry for my friends because they couldn't see
...
I saw a man weeping on the corner
I asked him what the tears were for
He said he lost all he loved
And cursed the one who was above
...
A redundant story of a broken home
Another typical poem
Mom turned to bitter insanity
Dad was distant everyday of the week
...
Softly first I hear you calling
Building with intensity
Try to keep myself from falling
Taking everything from me
...
Friends you and I, Friends can we Last?
Can we stay only friends? I hope our friendship can last.
I never expected to meet you…
...
Won't you please love me so I can love myself?
Won't you please need me like I need someone else?
I felt your love come and go
Like the puddles of water left after the snow
...
A year ago last fall
Your phone voiced a call
Asking to give a heart, a soul, my all
But like the forgotten treasures tucked away in your attic
...
My Buddy Jesus
(To the tune of “You Are My Sunshine”)
You are my Jesus, My buddy Jesus
You make me happy, when times are bad
And it is so clear, If you could be here
You’d protect me from my drunk step-dad
When times are trying, my mother dying
We know you’re listening, to all our prayers
She was a dancer, now she has cancer
You created heaven to show us that you care
Cystic Fibrosis, caused my psychosis
My lung infections, cannot be cured
I can’t complain though, you also died slow
For my sins, pain on the cross you endured
I hear the talking, this poem is mocking
What is the point to, a sick story told
I don't hate Jesus, think you should see this
But this superstition that is religion has grown old
Dan, I read all your poems, trying to use the eye of the heart more than the ear of the editor. (smile) Of course I found a lot of awkwardness, and it wasn't always easy to see through the unremitting anguish of much of your poetry. Nevertheless, I did see that they were written by a musician. I could almost hear you singing them in today's style. And, I found small nuggets of gold here and there. Here are just a couple: Life is too short to talk in tongues made of knives. From poem Johnny Ray by Dan Ochs Two houses, no home. From poem Family Ties Revised by Dan Ochs They may seem like faint wisps of praise, but to write words that stop someone's heart is a rare gift. Thank you.