Crazy Bout Your Nothin

Everbody's runnin round

doin crazy things about nothin
Talkin all about it
like somethin's goin on
They all got their angles
different ways to approach it
All I got is Your nothin
to be hung up on

It's funny that way You got
of somehow disappearing
even though clearly
You always here
I was just thinkin
we might do nothin together
I been doin way too much
with You not near

Crazy thing yeah
doin nothin feel sad
make me long for everthing
I'll never see
think of the crazy times
when I went bad
but Lord, I'm alright
when You do nothin with me

All these liars
bout somethin for nothin!
sellin nothin for somethin
keepin Love on they shelf
but when You and Me Lord
do nothin together
Your Love happen everwhere
all by itself

Akasha Acres

Listen, I'll give you some directions
Forget the motor vehicle
Steer spontaneous internal combustion of Mind
Roadless off the Mountain

It's good to smell the Roses and the Coffee
Buzz with the flying things with wings
Call Ravens, Crows and Buzzards friends
But fly off alone in the Spring

On land near Laytonville closed to the Profane
A chubby guy appeared to John as the Lotus Born
He hocked a loogie out the window
He took a shower and sang a Mani

Who owns these Acres of Illusion?
Inside these Spaces of Experience
What beautiful and ugly things can't happen?
To what end? John asks, forever stupid

Kind Friend of My Heart, when your Eyes flash
I see who owns Akasha Acres
Take them anywhere you like!
And please pray for animals and John and others!

[pro rm]

Saturday Night Jesus

Right there in the Word
1st Peter 4:6
The lost souls heard
Him teachin alright
the dead bones dance and do crazy tricks
cuz Jesus goes to Hell on Saturday night

On Sundy after
the plates are piled
they fill the rafters
with prayer and light
"The Lord's in Heaven!" the crowd goes wild
but Jesus goes to Hell on Saturday night

Mundy through Fridy
they pay their bills
keepin it tidy
doin it right
Great God almighty, I feel Your will

dancin here with Jesus on Saturday night

I'm a sinner—I'm lost
like the Good Book say
my Star is crossed
and I can't make it right
I'm a loser forever—I was born this way
but Jesus comes to Hell on Saturday night

Why is Friday Good?

Why is Friday Good?
Nothing happens as it should
What is there to say?
Not much on Holy Saturday

Roll away the Stone
Nothing in the Hatch
No Flesh, no Bone
Death has met His Match

Why does Sunday burn?
Death is in the Dish
Flesh and Bone return
to cook His Fish

What do we do?
Nothing! retire
Flesh and Bone, Fish and Dish
become Fire


John O. 
Good Friday

2026

Drifting Anchoress

An anchor in the Open Sky
a vow that even I could take!
Nothing happens way up high
whether anchors hold or break
Down here she fears that she will die
The sky is closed for Heaven's sake
Your Openness, a nightmare's lie
Hell, a lover on the make
Heaven, then, a promissory note
Her stormy soul, adrift and anchorless
wet and windy, is condemned to float
a fickle Father's drifting anchoress
But when she needs an anchor now
Lord of Sky and Earth! You are her Vow

Greatest Livin Poet

Hey babe don’t walk so fast I know you gotta job and you have to move along
Just meet my gaze for a minute as you pass
And put a dollar in my hat cuz I gotta song
I gotta song about Little Bo Peep
I gotta song about the other man’s wife
I gotta song about the company you keep
I gotta song about the first man’s knife
I gotta song about a fool and his lady
He’s down on his knees cuz he had too much wine
Put a dollar in my hat, baby I gotta song
I’m the greatest livin poet on this whole subway line
Daddy was a busker down by the bay
Mama played his organ when she could
He sang for the tourists sprayed silvery gray
Mama had other jobs in the neighborhood
Daddy made me spout a pome ever day
just to get a little bit o' wine
Mama bought a ukulele told me learn how to play
I’m the greatest livin poet on this whole subway line

I gotta song about a woman with a gun

I gotta song about a dangerous creep

I gotta song about your moment of fun

I gotta song about some little lost sheep I gotta song about a fool and his lady
He’s down on his knees cuz he had too much wine
Put a dollar in my hat, baby I gotta song
I’m the greatest livin poet on this whole subway line

When the first sun hits the skyscraper top

I'm stakin a claim on the station floor

Don’t get me wrong, babe you don’t have to stop

Put a dollar in my hat, babe I won’t ask for more

But after the commutes are over I’m free

How would you like to sip moonlit wine?

How would you like to see down on his knees

The greatest livin poet on this whole subway line?

I gotta song about a brand new day

I gotta song about the company you keep

I gotta song about a woman that way

I gotta song about her little found sheep

I gotta song about a fool and his lady

He’s down on his knees cuz he had too much wine

Put a dollar in my hat, baby I gotta song

I’m the greatest livin poet on this whole subway line

Lightning Shaft

I's half dead with a nasty cough

all the warnings I blew off
at the consequences scoffed
stumbling in chains

I's told I could go my way
breathe free on another day
like a child I could laugh and play
if I'd only feel the pain

He will hurl the lightning shaft
split the beam and sink the craft
all the slaves before and aft
sing freedom's sweet refrain

When I finally feel my pain