Prayers Songs And Magic Spells Bubbles Bursting Melted hearts the Finger Will Fall Off. Triggers Frozen Zap the Soul I Heard the Angels Cough. Shining Future See the Stars Be Brave, and Forge Ahead. Trust Each Other Work and Love Sometimes a Species Ends Up Dead. Summon Silence. Listen Well. The Spirit Moves Within. Falling Teardrops Don’t Forget Prevention’s Not a Sin. Looking Forward. Looking Back. With Both, We’re Holding Hands. God of Heaven Form of Earth Send Peace Upon Our Lands. *********** Pacifica, by the Pier Sunday, May 22, 2005 Lord, I am so grateful, my joy is felt in tears. So blessed I’ve been with Life Itself the whole of all my years. From coast to coast through vast terrain of meadow, forests, shores  . . . So many mountain vistas my memory adores. Here, in this great Country, where I’ve been privileged to be free, so much love for all creation bubbles up in me. I want to write forever of all the good things that I’ve seen from Connecticut to California, and many states in between. A thankful man I truly am, with a humble servant’s soul. To express my love for this great land, and all upon it, is my goal.                      Joseph Stegner To Whom It May Concern:      Words that reach into the heart and inspire action, generation after generation, is the hope of any Poet or Writer.  Having been given the opportunity to witness the manifestation of hatreds, and having experiences coast to coast that persuade me to believe hatreds are not based on respectful facts, it is my effort to use language to dispel violence, and prevent the eruption of condemnation in the soul. Sticky Stanzas, Slick and Hard, Yet Soft Enough to Swallow, Carry Through Time With Your Eloquent Rhyme and Give Life When the Soul Starts to Hollow. Loving Forgiveness With Laboring Hands, and a Heart and a Mind that Is Clear, Water the Seeds that Grow to Bring Fruit that the Future Indeed Needs to Hear. Books Are Too Thick to Carry So Far, but a Rhyme Travels Well In the Head. So, Source of All Spells, conjure a verse That Saves Whom Others Want Dead. Unless, Like a Fire, That Sweeps Through a Forest, Destruction Is Needed the Same, and the Number of Humans Has to Be Dwindled by War’s Hell-Summoning Flame. Sticky Stanzas, Stick Like Glue, and Do What a Spell Has to Do So What Is Intended, In Far Away Hearts, Makes Reaching the Heavens Come True. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Magic wisdom come alive in the hearts of women and men, and let good words so scribed, be a potion among them. so just as they’re intended, to influence how we feel, let our evolution to the stars be made possible and real. Let our respect for one another be universal for our best, so instead of against each other, into the heavens we can be blessed. Progressing in ability to journey ‘yond the sun, let the wheels of our technology find successfully we run. It has been since dawn of recorded time, (that we can understand), as long as we’ve existed, there were troubles on the land. The curb in Population by Hell that’s known as war, perhaps, has kept our species from running out of store, but just like we all learned in school, we must adapt to so survive through millennia of generations wherein some species cease to thrive. Our size, compared to insects, is simple DNA, the kind that can be altered even in our current day. It might seem science fiction, but to those who really think, from the Well of Possibility Dreamers often drink. The climate is mutate-able natural, or not,   and, there is a fragile range of temperature not too cold, or too hot. Water levels rise . . . just look at any cliff, or any hill, or mountain, look at time, and ask “What if . . .” What if, despite our ego-centricness, we learn we’re just a part, and for a species yet to manifest, our labor was its start? @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ Thoughts on Assumptions Appearances are only that, and I can be quite wrong. Many times I’ve made mistakes even when my hunch was strong. I have had opinions that I’ve treated as if fact, unaware that in the negative I let my thoughts impact. ‘Almost’ right is always wrong from the clearest point of view, and sometimes we are just too blind, to know what’s really true. @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ Lyrics for Song Makers You are hereby granted permission to put these words to music. You need not pay me to record or perform them, just give me, Joseph Stegner written credit as their author. I would greatly enjoy friendships with artists who add their talents to them. &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& A soldier, drifting off to sleep after singing "It's So Hard to Be Here, Dreams of his last night before deployment . . . “Let Us Dance by the Light of the Moon” From the Theater Musical Defending the Living Evening winds whisper “Who knows what will be?” Tomorrows are something only guesses can see. Rumors of futures that come to an end sober my spirit to your presence, my friend. Here, where the full moon ignites the outdoors, and you are the gift of its light, can Heaven do better in what it can offer, than how I feel blessed by your sight? Alluring . . . a magnet . . . attracting . . . divine . . . Nowhere on Earth is it better to be than here, with your soft hand in mine. Come, no more waste, Time too soon says goodbye. There is love in the air, and magic tonight. Let us put away worries and be nowhere but Now, and let us dance by the light of the moon. Let us dance by the light of the moon. {repeat, in chorus} The Theater version of this song has a new couple added to the stage with each repeat of the lyrics until the entire stage is full of dancing/singing couples representing different times and places on Earth. A detailed luminescent moon is the backdrop of the performance. “It’s So Hard to Be Here” Love Song of a Soldier From the Theater Musical Defending the Living A soldier, in fatigues, is listening to a portable radio.  A song by Keith Urban “Raining on Sunday” (Golden Road , Capitol Records, 2002) reveals what the soldier wishes he could be doing when it’s raining on Sunday.  This is his response . . . It’s so hard to be here when I want to be there! Here I am . . . There you are . . . Here we go . . . [ quicken tempo ] I want to be near you, Want to in the night here you, Want to hold you when we are alone! But I’m out on some mission, scared, I’m still wishin’ that our kisses have not been the last. And I hope I’m not fishin’ for what Fate won’t be dishin’ Want to feel you when my heart’s racin’ fast. There’s a song that I’ve heard, that I love to its word, and I wish it were more than a song, ‘Cause I’m here when you’re there, and you’re there when I’m here! Damn it! I just want you to be near! But I’m stuck on this mission where Hell is our kitchen, and I feel like I’m burning inside. ‘Cause it’s not your two lips that compare to the fists that have punched in the clashes at night. Instead of our faces soft in heavenly places, I’m a soldier with a duty at hand. And I can’t call this love like your kiss from above! There is war, and I’m far from your land. [ slow . . . intimate . . . almost tearful ] Like a flower so swaying, in the wind, gently playing, as your petals cry out “Heaven’s Here!” So fragile the stem, so I feel, oh my Gem, when my arms cannot tell you you’re dear! I’m here when you’re there, and you’re there when I’m here! Want to kiss you every morning through night! And I want my pillow to be your breast ‘neath a willow, not the stones of the battles I fight! When it’s raining on Sunday, I wish it could be our fun day, but I’m a man with a duty that calls, and even though my own heart feels you pulse through each part, we are kept from embrace by thick walls . . . Repeat various stanzas with passionate emotion. End with . . . I’m here when you’re there, and you’re there when I’m here! Want to kiss you every morning through night! And I want my pillow to be your breast ‘neath a willow, not the stones of the battles I fight! ©2004 Joseph Stegner “Song of the Officer” From the Theater Musical Defending the Living Here in this bless-ed land, where we enjoy the best that Life on Earth can give . . . Here in this bless-ed land, where we enjoy our liberty to richly live . . . Here in this bless-ed land, where we stand defending order, for our peace, so you can travel safe, in comfort, on our streets . . . Here where our days are long, when it’s hard to just forget, and go to sleep, when the memory holds traumas it must keep . . . Here where our days are long, when the nights are when our minds must be awake, and lives are altered by the calls we make . . . When Heaven turns to Hell . . . When Paradise cries out, and needs our hand . . . And we must quench those flames when they appear, unplanned . . . You will find us there, as the Guardians who keep the public safe, when prayers that plead for answer cannot wait . . . [change of melody and tempo] With eyes upon our every move, reporting what we have to prove, with instants of a second as our stage . . . From the comfort of hind-sightedness, we’re at the mercy of the Press, and with such weighted matters we engage . . . When others have lost ability to act within their sanity, and things have gone too far out of control . . . When friends turn less than that so quick . . . When loved ones choose, instead, to kick . . . We are the ones who restore safety for your soul. [return to original melody] Here in this bless-ed land, where we enjoy the taste of our sweet liberty . . . Here in this bless-ed land, where we are the Guardians with our own hand, keeping Heaven here, just like we’ve planned, at least the best that we can understand . . . [deepen and intensify voice, quicken tempo] Pick up your phone when you’re alone, listen for our siren’s tone, when you hear someone breaking in your home. or the man you love has gone too mad, he’s got a gun, and calls you Bad, now it’s up to us to stop what has begun . . . Or when there’s panic in the air, we prove how much the State can care when to your aid, equipped, with skill, we run. [return to original melody] Here in this bless-ed land, where respect for law protects Democ-racy, and the Majority can link Eternity . . . [quicken tempo] Choosing how the world will be, making dreams reality, so the Future has our Present, it can see. ©2005 Joseph Stegner “Song of the Officer” Defending the Living If you have friends or family in law enforcement, they might enjoy this song. Having spent five and a half years responding to medical emergencies in teamwork with police officers, sheriff’s deputies, and the California Highway Patrol, parts of this song can bring me to tears. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Good Times, Bad Times Another Song Good times and Bad times Moonlight and Sunshine Trying not to drown beneath the tide. Good times and Bad times Feelin’ down, then feelin’ fine Circumstances wearin’ on my mind. Lookin’ up, then upside down, Level head starts spinnin’ round Happy heart begins to pound, Cannot pick my spirit off the ground. Next wave just might wash me out, heavy-hearted, stuck to doubt, hard to float when sinking in despair. Then suddenly I’m up again, soarin’ higher than a wren, even homeless, broke, and hungry, I don’t care. Up and down and ‘round and ‘round, three strikes out, on the pitcher’s mound, then I go and slide out at home plate. Tryin’ hard to stay on top, the challenges don’t seem to stop, Revolving Heat and Cold both form the grape. Juicy poems, soft and sweet, bitter road beneath my feet, everything is needed in the end. Misery and Ecstasy churning like the surf in me, Bad times, like the Good times, are my friend. Joseph Stegner Broken Hearted, Broken Back    A Song Broken hearted, broken back. I heard the ice beneath me crack. Wounded spirit, fractured knees. Can’t tell delusions from a fact. I wish the seasons never changed inside. I want the good times to never end. Something happened and I don’t know what. How come you don’t call me friend?    { repeat first stanza} Broken hearted, busted on that road, the one that winds a whole life long. Feeling too weak to pick up my things, I still can hear our favorite song.      repeat second stanza      repeat first stanza      repeat third stanza Joseph Stegner ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Rollin’ Code Three Rollin’ code three . . . siren still goes echoing in me. Code three ~ Responding to the worst of tragedy. Chin up, Level-headed, Can’t make a mistake. Think fast.  Acts last. Don’t pass memories we make Rollin’ code three ~ Sometimes slammin’ hard against the dash stopping in my tracks while looking back, while attention to the present world I lack. Hidden trauma don’t pop up until the years unwind, then the heart can feel what time seeps from the mind. Halted mid-step standing in a line, or a red light remembering those bullets in the night or the weeping when things didn’t turn out right. Rollin’ code three . . . Siren still goes echoing in me. Code three . . . responding to the worst of tragedy +++++++++++++++++++++++= Each issue of Poetic Refreshment Magazine will have new original songs for musicians to use. I hope you enjoy them. Please let me know. Joseph Stegner Back to Front Page