Ok Boomer

Old dogs can’t be taught new tricks New cliches or politics And when you ask him, He gets mad Give him old song with a story line Smokie bar and jar of moonshine And when you ask him, He gets sad

Ok Boomer, tell me again One ring of fire, how will it end Only the truth, you can defend Ok Boomer, ……tell me again Dad killed guys with swastikas Now kids die in Florida And when you ask him, He gets mad Times did change for the better Now we’re our own worst debtors And when you ask him, He gets sad Chorus Distant drums of discontent No love shown to immigrants And when you ask him, He gets mad He has not given up hope It’s in his nature to vote And when you ask him, He gets sad Chorus
(c) 2019 Dave Schipper Rose Riversongs

Let me walk (a nod to the Man in Black)

Oh mystery, don’t bury me In your hands, In your hands Take me back, face the facts I am weak, I am weak Let me walk in your grace
Let me feel the air of peace Let me stand for what is right Let me walk in path of light A child’s face, a worn out place In our hands, In our hands On TV screens and in my dreams My heart hurts, my heart hurts When morals are lost To the wealth of gain He finds no host In this evil game Take me back, the man in black Hold our hands, hold our hands Speak gentle words, now rarely heard Mend our hearts, mend our hearts Chorus (c) Dave Schipper 2019 Rose Riversongs

Sorry

Sorry ain’t enough,
As it rolls off your cuff.
It’s just a reflects to hide your defects.

You can’t earn her grace
From her wounded face;
She gives it freely, yes freely.

The lies you’ve told
And back stories unfold;
In the shadows doubts creak.

You spin it forward
You little coward;
Writing a new glory filled story.

The hypocrisy
Of our democracy
Beg Christian lies to be gospel

Sorry doesn’t cut it
When hit in the gullet
But smile arrogantly and win the day.

You can’t earn her grace
From her wounded face;
She gives it freely, yes freely.


By Dave Schipper © 2012 Rose Riversongs

Dedicated to all our lying politicians..

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

He, She, Us, Them....

He walked the six steps and opened the door.
The entry through the garage, normal fare.
Left, right, he surveyed hoping to explore.
The feel of money, he’s nothing to compare.

He stands erect, with his best clothes on
The entry is full of hosts, guests, and family
Left, right, he looked for one to latch on
The feel of belonging, he needed commonly.

He reached out, eyes engaged, hand outstretched
The entry complete to some observant’s eye
Left, right, he looked for friends confirmed
The feel he’s succeeded is gusto denied

He turned away, knowing his vote is gone
The entry is nothing for some, but not him
Left, right, he looked designated pawn.
To feel he’s succeeded not now but then.

…. Or maybe it was she.?

Peace to the Democrats… They waged the war of the neglected person and the neglected Super Delegate; now they need to wage war of confidence and reconciliation. Pray for them.

Dave

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