the album “Sings the Truth” by Malvina Reynolds (filtered photo)
All of the gypsies danced in the graveyards, and sung protest songs to the daisies. The petals chanting Malvina “Revolt in Folk, Malvina” Your White hair has lived many seasons, a woman of many wars, seen many deaths Like the Winter warning the evils of March. To a street you sing to the homeless, to the sad You run out the ruin of brainwash propaganda send the pimps crying over their lost moneys you sing sweetly to a hobo’s heart. to all the broken spirits drowning in the strangers of night. in infected light. May the blessed be in this pine box of feathers. In these cyanide apples we reach for you, Malvina. Tell us which trenches we can hide, to crawl away from the soot. In the dynasty of coalmines. Our clothes of rosy mud with breath of the crawdaddies, whispering in army camouflage. They love their kisses of the bullet winds, that blow through this Vietnam. We are all digging in the dirt, and can’t wash the death from our fingernails. Clouds that grow inside of them, and sing one of your famous canary hymns. mmmm…mmmm….mmmm…Malvina Watch the snow pepper down, and burn at our tear ducts Our clarity whips and watch – these devils preside in the caves And they talk like a symphonic Nazi Dragging freedom on the skin of his calloused feet. In the cocaine webs pricking at the veins in his eyes. they will hemorrhage at the stroke of your violin. Let’s wash out this internal sepsis. These war crime Valentine’s days. Watching hippies falling to the sun. Our heroes are the songs in your voice. Washed out our glory… They washed out our glory. Can we grow as humans while crackling in the campfires? The hum the hums of your wonder the hums of the caged birds Many years sitting in depression’s wings You finally learned to fly, as you taught the progressions of Eve. We discovered each raindrop could be your own. Malvina, we failed your years You were misplaced in a world that needed your transitions.