Petals in the Wind/Trenton Bebermeier

                               -- for Phil Ochs

And here my pen, 
broken, will lie,
idle and drained, 
once full of grace.
And here on the sidewalk 
I may as well die,
My suit jacket loosened, 
my old boots unlaced,
My lyrics unsung, 
my ink gone to waste.

But in feverish riots 
or rattling fury
I pray my plight has 
whittled into your heart.
In bastard newspapers 
or in ill-omened queries,
despair claws wild 
to rip your faith apart.
When you seek justice, 
let my words guide your heart.
 
If the struggle drags you down, 
you wake up like me,
and the world spins slower, 
time’s sand stands still.
If silver drops of sunlight 
run dim down the leaves,
and the air you sing tastes stale and ill,
follow my voice, 
my song, 
my soul 
to your window sill.

hear it in the breeze, soft as it can be,
flowering gently in the trees.
hear it in the grass, as the wind whistles past,
and jostles, back and forth, the bumblebees.
hear it in the screams of the people who need
a voice like yours to set them free.
hear it in the Bombs falling ever-faster to the ground,
and hear it in the crumbling walls of your own hometown.

You must hear it, I say!
Fight in my place, for one more day...

Though I die here, 
in the early April air,
I die knowing that in your heart, 
my love is still encased.
A mark on your soul; 
innocent, beautiful, and fair.
But see my jacket draped loose, 
my black boots scuffed and unlaced,
 my guitar strings unplucked and chaste,
and make sure my ink has not gone to waste.

---

Trenton Bebermeier is a third year student majoring in Music Performance and minoring in Japanese. He enjoys reading literature by Jack Kerouac, Charles Bukowski, Leonard Cohen, Aldous Huxley, Natsume Soseki, and Hemingway. When he is not reading or writing, he is making music and sound with whatever means currently at his disposal, as well as trying his hand in every creative medium available.