forever

good holidays so far…a little sore from  playing Wii with lucca and peggy…lots of bakugan, hot wheels, and projects from the female farmer…it’s the time of year that i have to break the ice from the water for the animals…the donkey and the goat still enjoy their walk through the woods…the newly acquired duck can’t wait until i fill the water tub to jump in and splash around…i have a resident racoon that is living under my shed…after i feed the chickens and dog and cats he comes out and gets the left overs…i’m going to have to deal with him when the hens start laying again…

hope everyone is enjoying their holidays…this is one of my favorite poems i have written this year…it will probably become a song…hope you enjoy it, talk to you soon…

when i look at old folks i see children praying….when i look at children i see old folks playing

when i look at mountains i see grains of sand…sifting through the fingers of the Masters hand

when i look at oceans i see tears of joy…falling down like raindrops on a baby boy

when i look at horses i see dreams unfold…riding on the south wind over fields of gold

when i look at heaven i see starry skies…shining like the sparkle in a young girls eyes

when i look at time it curves and bends…it has no beginning and it has no end

and i will love you…forever

marchetti 09

frozen Jesus

 

baby  Jesus was frozen at the ymca

away in a manager on Christmas day

families were rushing to reach church on time

an old man was drinking his bottle of wine

the sun started shining bright in the sky

melting the ice in Jesus’ eyes

the old man was filled with wonder and fear

when he looked at the baby and thought he saw tears

he fell on his knees and prayed on the ground

a number of people gathered around

Jesus is crying the old man spoke out

just look in his eyes if there’s any doubt

the water rolled down from Jesus’ face

it’s a miracle shouted a girl filled with grace

the old man just nodded and continued to pray

as Jesus lay thawing at the ymca

the next day the crowds continued to come

the sick and the lame the deaf and the dumb

the came to see if the tears were for real

they came with their sorrows they came to be healed
a cripple girl walked a blind boy got sight

a man lost in darkness claimed he saw light

they touched the old man who seemed holy and wise

who first saw the tears in Jesus’ eyes

this beaten old man whose clothes looked like rags

who swallowed his faith from a brown paper bag

he never believed that he’d be the one

to preach to the old the sick and the young

the tears started falling from his weary old eyes

the ice started melting that had frozen his life

Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, he heard himself say

as Jesus lay thawing at the ymca

marchetti 09

farming and writing

i’ve been a songwriter most of my life and a farmer for about 10 years…really different deals but there are alot of similarities…

farming starts with seeds…

songwriting starts with  a seed of an idea

you have to nurture the seeds with compost,good soil,water,sunshine …it takes some experience to get the most out of a crop

you have to nurture the seeds of an idea with thought,heart,truth, and orginality…it takes some experience to get the song the way you want it

for me there is no other feeling like watching something grow, or hearing a song come together

the harvest …watching others smiling as they bite into one of your homegrown tomatoes, or watching the sense of peace they seem to have as they walk through the field cutting flowers…

the harvest…hearing your song on the radio…or someone tapping their toes with a smile on their face or tear in their eye to one of your songs

and there is the off season…winter… when the soil rests and the creative well gets refilled

in both farming and writing it is feast or famine…no song ideas, rejections, crops fail, drought…or a bountiful harvest and everybody loves your songs…either way it is about the joy of creating…farming has taught me about the cycles of life…life death life…it has renewed my faith that there is something more after this life…stumming a chord on the guitar resonates through everyone from muddy waters singing the blues  to gabriel plucking his harp to the beatles singing yea yea yea

both have taught me there is enough…both are spiritual ,joyfull heartbreaking,  and life giving  …and you can write songs and poems about farming…like this poem i wrote;

                                                             Intimacy

                                                          (into me see)

There have been times when someone would thank me

For something I’ve done

Or pay me some small compliment

Or especially when someone would say

I love you

That I could not find a place in me to put it

The words would fall to the ground

And scatter like seeds in the wind

Then

I was out in the field

Surrounded by flowers and bluebirds

Yellow finches, purple martins, zinnias, snap dragons

Every shade of green and blue and red imaginable…

And there was a burst of light inside of me

Creating a place

For me

           And you

                             And God 

                                                            

 

 

 

                                                         

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                        

stax

when i was in my early twenties i went to memphis…armed with a beat up telecaster, warped neck and all…and a song…i traded the telecaster for studio time to demo the song…

i took the song over to the publishing company for stax records(east memphis publishing) they liked it…published it, they went on to publish about 30 of my songs

a few days later i got a call and they asked me if i would sing some demo’s for them…i had only been in the studio one time singing my song but i said yes

i was scared to death…standing in the studio where…sam and dave, otis redding,booker t and mg’s, isaac hayes, eddie floyd and on and on cut classic records was a little intimidating…

i had to learn about 7 songs on the spot and then sing them…larry nix and bobby manuel were behind the board, and it was obvious fairly early that i was too nervous to deliver…so they took a break…larry sent out for some fried chicken and a pint of southern comfort…he told me to eat the chicken and drink the southern comfort, which i did…i then sang like a bird

another time i was in the office when i overheard the girl behind the desk say…”tell roosevelt jamison his royalty check is in for “that’s how strong my love is”…when she got off the phone i asked her if that was the same “that’s how strong my love is” that the rolling stones covered…she smiled and said,”why yes honey”…i knew i wasn’t in Kansas anymore…or pittsburgh

i met mack rice who wrote “mustang sally”…met my dear friend don nix who wrote”goin down” for jeff beck and every one else who ever played a rock song… i cherish those memories and friends..and am honored to have been around such a magical place

tradition

i got a tree today…we will decorate it tommorow…lucca and peggy and me…our tradition

when i was my sons age, 7…dad and i would buy our tree on christmas eve …then go to midnight mass…then i  would try to sleep until morning…visions of sugar plums and reindeer and baseball gloves and footballs dancing in my head…

it was our tradition to buy our tree christmas eve…i didn’t know at the time the reason it was our tradition was because trees were dirt cheap then, they were  almost giving them away…

my favorite memory of back then is dad and i going up the street…about  5 or 6 in the evening…and dad buying two of the worst looking trees you have ever seen for 50 cents…we brought them home…and dad sawed limbs from one tree and drilled holes in the other tree and glued the limbs in…to make the best looking tree you’ve ever seen…i remember us laughing the whole time…

he was so proud of that tree…we decorated it and i don’t think i had ever seen him or mom so happy… when i got older mom told me that later that night when i was asleep after the tree was completly decorated…the heat loosened the glue and limbs started falling out left and right…dad jumping around laughing putting them back in…i never knew

it was a great christmas…traditions start for a number of reasons…i treasure our tradition of buying the tree christmas eve…no matter what the reason

christmas isn’t about the money…it’s the day we celebrate  Jesus birthday…the prince of peace, the saviour,the hope and light of the world..a traditon we can’t afford to lose

free beer and pretty girls

                                    Eden

here now

 in the Garden of Eden
              we take another bite

 from the apple of knowledge

we swallow

 half of a worm

 our stomach turning

 towards tomorrow

bad day bad day…blogs…what’s a blog…

got  a ticket for not wearing a seat belt…now i have to take a driving test because my insurance had lapsed…nice…double line, broken line, school bus what the…

my pig is frozen…yea, my pig is frozen…venting… did you ever have one of those days when you felt trapped inside of your own body…yes, no? i feel my spirit pacing back and forth inside…my spirit is ernest tubb singing ..i’m walking the floor over you…you being me…and me being you, i’m the eggman

money, taxes, war…have a nice day…i know i know..i am blessed, depressed and need a rest, my hog is frozen my blog is broken…i am dangling my big toe in a stream of consciensness, that’s not how you spell it

my big toe is frozen…you know sometimes…don’t you want to grab a frozen ham in the meat dept of the grocery store and just start beating it against the ground …screaming let me out let me out

well look sparky…there’s no free beer and all the pretty girls are taken…so just suit up for the holidays like the rest of us, keep a stiff upper lip in your eggnog…and ho ho ho

it’s easy to die it’s hard to be funny…until next time…the eggman

dirt

 

                                                                                      

under my fingernails on the seat of my pants

i’m out there in it when i get the chance

there’s some in my shoe and more on my shirt

maybe i’m crazy but i just like dirt

when i was a boy they used buckets of suds

when they we’re finished i’d roll in the mud

sometimes i’d get spanked but it didn’t hurt

my behind was covered in layers of dirt

now i plant seeds in the warm fertile ground

watch flowers and vegetables grow all around

it puts food on the table; for worms it’s dessert

someday they’ll plant me in 6 feet of dirt

when i’m up above in some billowy cloud

i could be a raindrop for crying out loud

i’ll fall on the head of some lucky squirt

down below playing in heavenly dirt

my grampap sasto,(agostino,auggie to his friends) came from italy…he had a great garden in inner city pittsburgh…crawford st…hill district…made his own wine…grew his own vegetables…had chickens, rabbits ect…when my dad was a boy he had to follow the horse and cart that went up and down the streets to pick up the manure…my grampap was organic before organic was cool…

these days i clean out my nieghbors barns for manure…with a smile, thinking of my dad and my grampap…never would have dreamt it…but i have found myself with an organic farm, chickens, goats, donkey’s, pigs, dogs, cats, hawks, fox, coyotes, bermuda grass, insects ect…it’s a good life…but a far cry from honky tonks,pain pills,and depression…glad i made the journey

mom

Farming

When I pass by a cemetery

I see a field of souls

blossomed

my mom passed away last week…she was 81…
she was an artist…a really good artist
she took care of people and helped people…she was courageous…never met a stranger…didn’t believe in doctors, politicians ect…she gave me life…ashes to ashes…throw a penny in the grave…i am sad…i will miss her…but i also have a certain peace and joy…it’s my first blog…and it’s where i am at right now…i farm and write songs and poetry…