Flying a Sign?
Written by Chris Scott Fieselman
This thing that I’m doing in The Contributor,
I’m wondering why? And what it’s all for?
Calling it “Pieces of Poetry”
To get more people to know about me.
I’m sorry I don’t sing or play an instrument,
But there are people out there who really can!
Who understand, what that means?
In God’s Grander Plan.
“Do no hurt and do no harm,
Whoever strikes first is always wrong”
That makes sense. Shouldn’t it be something?
Someone says in a song?
Isn’t that where Rare Poetry belongs?
There… And in the hands of those so desperate,
They’re barely hanging on?
“I can almost hear the Music”
Of the things worth being said.
But without the music all they are,
Are words worth being read!
Newspapers are becoming a thing of the past.
Every new issue is somewhat familiar,
But… Somehow different from the last.
Not every city has a street-paper,
Uniquely like, The Contributor.
New possibilities, published every two weeks,
We need now more than ever before.
Something to share from the people out there,
Who used to be flying a sign!
Something new, for them to do,
To prove to you they’re trying…
By selling something worth buying.
The one thing they need a lot more than cash,
Is to wake in the morning with an All Day Bus Pass,
And the latest issue of The Contributor,
Saying… Hey… For God’s sake… Take the Better Offer…
To become a vendor, you have to attend a class.
To get there and back, takes an All Day Bus Pass.
Begging to me is… Take… Take… Take…
Giving nothing back in return.
Selling the paper is money you make,
You can honestly say that you’ve earned.
And that’s just a start, and it’s just a small part,
Of how the paper helps those in need.
Food stamps and housing and recovery programs,
To help them get back on their feet again,
And find a way to succeed.
That’s how I survived for seven years,
As a songwriter, having my work appear,
Time after time. Again and again.
If it worked for me, it will work for them,
Foar a paper wroth more than the money that’s spent,
With “Pieces of Poetry” published regularly,
Written by Chris Scott Fieselman…
No Camping!
Written by Chris Scott Fieselman
I get to connect with them every two weeks.
To reach them and teach them through poetry.
I consider it an Honor and a Responsibility,
To be the one telling, A Songwriter’s Story…
All that you own or all that you’ve known,
Which is more important?
All that you’ve done that mattered to someone,
Did it really make a difference?
I guess in a way, I do play an instrument.
My instrument is, The English Language.
I reckon that’s why,
I’m what Nashville considers,
A Poet Lyricist.
But it takes a friend who’s a true musician,
To find the Melody Line and Chords.
To turn the words of a Lyricist,
Into something so much more… A Song…
But I’m still here.
My words still appear.
After fourteen years.
God’s still always near.
It ain’t easy being me.
It takes a lot to look this good.
My life being told through poetry,
And clearly understood.
And a documentary called, “Saint Cloud Hill”
That Nashville never answered for,
And probably never will…
The People in Power can do as they please,
WIth the money intended to help those in need.
They make a great salary to offer solutions,
They know will never succeed.
“Give them fair warning and then on that day,”
The city can legally haul it away.
So much for Life and Liberty.
I remember the day that it happened to me.
After seven years learning to live in a tent,
Like a pioneer sharing my experience.
Teaching them scouting and how to camp,
Gave them a place to begin again.
They felt like they were part of a community.
Where they could learn how to stand,
On their own two feet.
Right where God wanted them to be,
Taking on responsibility.
But sadly, City Leaders, Firmly Disagree.
The homeless are simply a Social Disease,
It’s best to consider them the enemy,
And a burden upon our economy.
So… What are the chances?
They’ll give up the land?
And consent to teach people to live in a tent,
Till the day they can afford Apartment Rent?
In Nashville that will never happen…