Tag Archives: death

Barber Jim

song written and performed by John Richter

He come from West Virginia
Oh, such a long ride
On the back of that Harley
sat his pretty young bride
He said we’re going to Indy
Mrs. Barber Jim, yeah
But that’s where it ends
Yeah, Barber Jim

I walked into the door
He said sit down Johnny,
I’ll cut your hair some more
what do you think
about that baseball score
Light up a smoke
and have a joke

Come on over tonight
gonna put some burgers
on that grill
Mrs. Jim gonna make
that cucumber salad, yeah
you know, I grow em in the back
my daddy taught me that

Tell me Johnny,
who’s that guy watchin’ me
I think he’s been ’round since three
and he sure is scaring me –
Johnny

Old Jim he left for a while
worried his wife won’t stick around,
missed his uncle
went West Virginia town
never said goodbye.

Never said goodbye,
never said goodbye…
Jim took his own life.
Now I see a Harley,
I see Jim and his wife…
Ridin’ to West Virginia

Many years ago i worked for the Indianapolis Police Department where I kept a kept a flat-top haircut, in the barbers a lot and I met Jim, who was new to Indy and was a really nice guy.  We became friends over a couple of years, got to know him pretty well, dined with Jim and his wife a few times.  But one day I suspected Jim had some mental problems because he seemed like he was turning a little paranoid of people following him.  The last time I saw Jim he told me his Uncle had passed and he needed to get back to West Virginia to be with his dad, who I think was a having a grieving spell.  And I never saw Jim again.  One day, a few months later I heard a 10-Zero come over the police radio while I was just rolling around the district and the address sounded familiar.  10-Zero is code for dead person, suspicious.  I wasn’t on the run but drove by to see why it sounded so familiar.  The other officers were already on scene and I could see Jim’s wife on the front lawn, just as she collapsed, sitting with her head between her knees.  Jim had taken his own life…  Words can’t describe.  But this is my song – if it describes how I feel, I don’t know…  But it is what it is.

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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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Repetitions of the Guph

Darkness invades the womb in secret,
Somberly it cries for Otzar – that treasury of souls
trapped in never – never…..
Shouting to the Heavens to forgive them –
To bane their past – or allow them
to hold it dearly before that next splash –
that next great intrusion to banality –
that slippery ride down the water slide –
into life – birth – selfishness – and death.
And up the ladder again……
Again and again, relentlessly swallowing
sweet little packets of hedonistic fever.
Only to climb up the slide again – and again.
Cry ye, old soul in darkness – cry for the light –
the wisdom to know how to stop the cycle –
to know not to dive for pennies –
nor chase the girls in bikinis –
but to seek those whose pools are dry.
And give them yours.

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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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Little Sins

Ever in life do we find –
the glory, the strife,
– and never mind…

Infants we come – innocence –
trapped in Satan’s sinful flesh –
– born into time.

We hear the tick, we hear the tock,
slowly lose love – watching the clock –
our lives benign.

We watch the things of evil’s way,
accept them all as child’s play –
living blind.

We see the murderous throes of he,
whose sinful acts bring misery –
and think he is most obviously –
of evil kind.

And so throw our stones into he –
always believing autonomy –
should separate virtuous we –
from his kind.

Then we move about our imaginative life,
seeing less glory and more imminent strife –
in all we find.

Still there’s death, with every breath,
and evil lives across worlds breadth –
even of our kind.

For after our stones are thrown –
and lesser evils be known –
we find ourselves within –
forging mountains of sin –
For justice will find that murdering man
and bring to light his murdering plan –
And so it shall do to we.

And yay, though we murdered not –
or cursed or robbed dear Camelot –
our lives have certainly lost –
innocence – at dear soul cost.

For hating he who caused the harm,
is enough to ring heav’ns alarm –
and in the last it is we who’ll see –
the bowels of hell for eternity….

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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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Now I Lay Me Down

Ebenezer saw his own grave –
placid yellow hues against
the pointing finger of faceless
hood.  Stretched stone of soft marble
that would run smooth after
centuries storm, anonymous grave
melting into the abyss of earth,
alone, nothingness, forever.
Fools be gone, and what butcher’s
prized goose is valued more than
serenity, chains and all – only
to sink us deeper into bliss.
World be gone.  Tiny Tim better off.
The chains are what hold us here.

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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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Original Sin

Ever find us to pass longing will –
hunger driven, in monumental still –
blood soaked leaves of forest fall –
our flung spear, true and tall –
split wide the beast – an eerie chill
To find hunt sweeter than kill.
Forward the hunt shall ever go –
never sate our blackened soul.

And so friend, ready the bow
search for sweetness in death.
That certain peace we’ll never know
until comes our own last breath.
’til then should arrow point flee –
as fate puts her sight on we.

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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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My Heavens

If Heaven’s path were made for one
and nere choice but to walk alone
then I wonder what should become
of my absence in God’s lovely home…

For surely I would stop on the path
to admire the birds and bees…
and dance within the machair fields
among cattails and other weeds…

Certain I’d climb the aiten bush-
soft tendrils caressing me…
I should fancy not to be in a rush –
so then climb the cherry trees.

Then on down to find the pond,
feed all the ducks in a row,
and hope that I brought along
my trusty fishing pole.

Sure to pass the basketball hoop,
where I’d want to shoot a few,
and hope Heaven’s path is a loop,
so I can do it all with you.

For if your house is on the way,
Then I’d never find dear Heaven.
As we would hold hands all the day,
and eat cookies from your oven.

And I’d kiss your cheek and declare my love,
for all of God’s eternity.
Heaven can wait – so what if I’m late?
I’d rather spend it with thee…
For without you there, t’would be quite contrare –
as Heaven would not Heaven be.

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© 2014 John Allen Richter
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Heaven’s Night

Fractured spirits – comb the air
staying ‘tween this midnight fair –
and October moon, full and red –
reminding we of long lost dead…
The mourning cries beyond dawn’s light –
of evil’s scorn and other’s fright –
Ghost’s howl into darkened mist –
But seek refuge in shadow’s kiss –
when moon falls pale and sun do rise.
lain showers of love from God’s own eyes –
And we these humble tales do tell
of a night which bourne such hell….
My Lord, My Lord, dearly Thee sever me –
from this earthen talon of devil’s majesty.
Release my heart and soul to thee –
Sweet death to set my spirit free.
Lest my fate is not of heaven’s sight –
but whisked away to eternity’s night.
And such, to Thee, should be my plight –
that heaven’s door not be locked tonight….

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© 2014 John Allen Richter
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