Duckin' stones, a Protest song

I live my life duckin’ so many stones.
My hands are free, but I feel alone.
Both sides take aim at the weary bill.
Both exclaim there is a poison pill.
I suppose I should stop and listen.
Decipher which is God’s position.
I do expect that answer is neither
Jesus wouldn’t even need a breather.
He’d remind us of the question that stands,
When he needed help, “Did you lend a hand?”

I walk thru life duckin’ so many stones.
My way is clear and I don’t go alone.
I walk with the sons of Abraham,
Yes, Christian, Jew and Muslim
Side by side, homeless, poor and gay
Ducking the stones and words they say
Lest we forget the word cast in stone
Don’t idolize words from a radio throne
But let the words of Jesus help
Go out loving one another as yourself.

Go out and shout
Drop the stones, drop the stones.
But do not doubt, you’ll be
Duckin’ stones, duckin’ stones.

© 2009 Dave Schipper Rose Riversongs

God looked down...

God looked down on a little tribe in the desert
With infinite knowledge and perception,
God planted the seed of the Bible in Moses words.

The future would bring those to oppose
But God hoped in time the simple stories
Would be understood as words of prose.

The great beasts help form the planet
Yet to explain that to weak of heart
Would bring out another idol of granite.

Now he wonders about the black and white
Why do some believers never see gray
She hopes some day more will see the light

Dave Schipper © 2007

Front Page of the Wall St. June 9th

...© 2005 by Dave Schipper

Printed in black and white
Words of news so concise
Be it trials or stock climbs
Turbulence seems the line

What can this reality be?
What is it that God sees?
His people lost in sin
Or asking where to begin.

Stars with their own lines
Countries with no peace signs
Agendas and denials take shape
Yet more hunger and rape

Are we fatally flawed
As the news would conclude
Or we in desperate need
Of Christ’s love indeed.

Fold up neatly the Wall St.
A life is never complete
Commit yourself to love
All as the one above.

So Why?

As I sit here in the middle of a fast food nation,
I can not fathom life in the middle east desert.
The sounds, the smells, the assault on the senses.
Could they fathom my life a good world apart?

I need to find words, ambition and opportunities
They cry to find peace, freedom and equality.
In the end we’re not much different you see.
But our culture has formed our assumed reality.

So I sit with a full belly and free woman around me
While they wander from one check point to another
I might be the evil person that they perceive
But equal religions, races, and sexes are the right order.

So how do I reconcile Law or Cultural Tradition
Do I find right words in the Torah, Bible or the Koran?
I suspect that these great books have the direction
Live humbly with love for others as a plan.

So why are we still fighting?

Dave Zeman © 2009 RR


Photo Credits

Fast Food/Slow Cash

Get a Big Gulp at the Big K and watch your waist grow
Take a rest at the Stop and Go; disappear some dough
Get a deal on a Chimi, a pay a buck for water
Take a look at your world it gets… better and better.

Fast food slow cash is eating up our world
either stress or food that makes you stomach twirl
Fast food, slow cash is eating up our world
It’s either that ….or religious quarrel.

Check the candy in aisle three, you’ll find something new
Fake tastes just for you, swear you’d think their real
At least trust the Enegerizer, the bunny is a treat
He’ll last for several hours to get tossed to the heap

Good God someone change the coffee, it’s been here since three
The counter girl stares her misery, one hour, four more
She didn’t cause the price to go up, so lighten up schmuck
Under her breath comes oh Fuck, there go’s a truck.

by Dave Schipper © 2006 Rose Riversongs

Sorry about the F word... I thought it fit the personality of the counter girl.
photo credits

A New Light

by Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

No whisker or sharp edge because
He lived his life within tolerance.
Not born into a privileged life
He honed his innate common sense.

Oh he was a friend to many, close to none.
Living a balance between alone and lonely.
He found his form of sanity in writing.
But even that he chose to do silently.

One day he broke from the mold and form
Shocked by the loss of his employment
No longer productive he was told politely
He was too numb and broken to comment.

To start down a path of humbleness
Was a journey where none would recognize him?
He would control his wrath but be reckless
Free abundant love would be his new hymn.

Smart choice, but where was his manual?
No spec sheet, nothing in simple black and white?
This was right choice because he needed it.
The pilot passion light inside would ignite.

Everyone at church that weekend saw him smile.
No one brought up any of the sordid work details
Brimming, he laughed with no end; even shook hands.
Yes out of the dark of night, a new light prevails.

Maybe

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

Maybe atheists speak some truth
Laws of science can all be proved
But in this world of history
There is love, art and mystery,

Maybe the Bible has hard facts
Bold and real incredible acts.
Or is it paraphrase and prose
One that a spirit helped compose?

Maybe this is too much for me
I have no answers you plainly see.
Were my talents naturally selected,
Or gifts a supreme being directed?

Maybe the debate will someday end
When we say goodbye dear friend
One life’s path will end up in vain
The other will whisper God’s name

My Inaugration Prayer

People who believe that they are descendants of Abraham dominate this world; if we agree on that, why can't we agree on more?

In this mixed up world, it's not that we just disagree but there is out right anger even within each other's faith. My hope is that with this new President we start finding peace on our same table, and then we start getting up and talking to people at the other tables. We'll stop acting like middleschoolers; and we'll start acting like adults, and admiring the gifts that God has blessed us with rather that the differences we share.

Somewhere Yahweh will be happy with his children, and stop his weeping. Deserts will be fertile with love, and streets will be filled with common sense.

We will treasure each other gay and anti-gay as an expression of our brutal & realistic human nature. Any misguided anger will be crushed by a hug from a nine year old, or the whisper from a ninety year old.

I dream we will be stronger. Yes, I believe there is hope; and I pray God gives Obama the strength to be pragmatic to offer this poor sinner an opportunity to talk at this precious time.

God bless us, and make us stronger lovers.

Peace. Dave

Loose Papers and Sweaters

Loose papers unlike life
Can be clipped and put aside.
Beat up sweats worn with pride
Store up love deep inside.

Moments come up each day
Where we reach out to say
God I love them today
Good friends so far away.

Are people like paper?
Clipped in bunches put in order.
Or are they God’s sweater?
A touch worn but loved sweeter.

I wrap myself today
Warm inside with God’s way.
Friends I love them today
Near and so far away.


© Dave Schipper 2008 Rose Riversongs