THE WORD

LONG ROAD, SHORT ROAD

Here’s another crumb falling off the table. A little sustenance for the month ahead in terms of open microphone action somewhere close to you.

Some revamped plans for the Dangerous Microphone as we kick into year number three at the Dangerous Kitchen. We want to keep Wednesday evenings as fresh as we can so we outline a modified programme over the page somewhere.

Golden Bay Live Poets Society celebrates 30 years of spoken word with a jam-packed anniversary concert of poems and songs. The concert will be happening at the Mussel Inn on Thursday 14 November. Over the page somewhere you will find all the details.

Sometimes a little quietness is what we need; sometimes you can find that at NgAng’s Art Gallery where you can engage in a low-hum conversation. Moonshine on the Microphone has got that feeling. Details over the page.

There are not too many long roads around here, so not too far to travel to make it to one of these decidedly invigorating sessions. Hope to see you somewhere down the end of a short road!

Peace
Mark Raffills
Golden Bay Live Poets Society

The long roads of America

Down the long roads of America
A solitary star quietly winks at me
And I am bound by my heart
To travel in the beam of its one headlight
Singing the song of the highway
Rolling down the New Jersey turnpike

Good morning America how are you
I’ve just woken from the longest dream
Where every song I ever learned
Was like a bag of silver in my hand
And I spent every single coin
Paid my fare through the promised land

This is the voice of America
This is the throne of God left alone
Where the prayers are as cold
As the etchings on the bullet shells
Clattering on the empty streets of promise,
Dallas, you hide your secrets oh so well

You won’t find America in a politician’s eyes,
It’s lying somewhere down the road
In the words of a poet
Written in the dust on the ground
There hope is measured by a dropped stone
And a little faith can still be found

Down the long roads of America
Looking for redemption from a life of crime
I sing the words of every stolen line
That sweet song of salvation flees
from the chains of the broken law
What’s mine is yours, what’s yours is free.

Mark Raffills