Blog Archives

Skip Skipping

Time is skip slipping
As the rain comes misting down
I think I really like you
With you I can sing and clown
Time is a sore pouring
The wine is half gone
Dance we again across the floor
We spin and spin until half-passed dawn

Time stops stupid short
You skitter sweetly out the door
You seem positively unsure
If you’ll come this way anymore

Time comes to do laundry
Separate the lights from the sweats
But we’d danced so hand-in-glove—
Always seem to lose at these kind of bets

Time for my daily bread work
Cloths are all neatly pressed
On a misty kind of rainy morning
One must always look one’s best

Because when the time seems right and the Sun supershines
The world may yet crash down but you still must work the mines
Wanna dance?

Just Dance

Some poems are wine lyric
Two goblets Clos du Bois
Others are simple syrup
Just so much blah, blah, blah

Now some too-humble wrought lines—
An old wrenched heart softly pines

Heart-tears gathering inside
Aching to let go and fall;
Words mocking a conscience
Of feelings so cold t’would appall

Terpsichore blanches, and then wilts,
Suffers in her marble a new deep fault:
Who can answer for these deaths?
Young stars ripped from the celestial vault

Haruka and Meechaiel pas de deux—
What are we all ever going to do?

The pain lingers…
The words won’t come…
Broken thoughts slip chalky fingers;
The glib finally struck dumb

How to unsee a sunset?
How to unhear the rain?
Where do we put these feelings?
Where do we plant the pain?

A far lightening pirouettes across your glance—
Dance for Haruka, dear friends…just dance

Hopefully

Hopefully at yer next 3am
You might texts oer t’me
Hopefully da nexts day
You might want to see
Dat dawn’s early light
And that I loves you just a mite

Hopefully yer following scheme
You could finds some sharin time
Hopefully you can sees yourself
To agreein to be all mine
Ta has and to hold
Iffin you allows me t’be so bold

Hopefully dese few sad lines
Will makes for you a big smile
Hopefully we kin share a dance or two
Then walks the road the nex’ few mile
Til rises dat dawn’s early light
And see I loves you more’n a mite

Life’s Not as Easy as a Cajun Dance

Einaudi lingers on the stereo
As burnt chicken wafts thru the door
Happiness takes its turn to go
The reason why matters not any more
I’d give anything for one more chance
But life’s not as easy as a Cajun dance
Tomorrow will be a lesser day
Twas oft told to watch what you say

The cat wants to so go outside
As paltry aromas scale thru a crack
Nuances are things I could never abide
And now she is another you’ll never get back
I’d give anything for just one more walk
But life’s much more than marbles and chalk
Dawn comes so early in the day
The sooner you’ll be off one might say

The keyboard rings out its golden tune
Time to drain a merlot glass quick
Bedtime approaches too ready and ever soon
Cat calls his return with condescension thick
Lonely and longing lie buried deep and strong
Life’s losses are worse when you know you’re wrong
Tomorrow will be another lesser day
A fresh curtain for any farce or threadbare play

JAZZ FEST Go To The Gospel Tent

I want to go back to the streetcars,
the beads in the trees,
the shady uncle cousin someone
round the corner who has JUST what I need,
just a little after midnight; then
I need that walk the length of Esplanade Blvd
during Jazz Fest to approach that steamy Southern Mecca of Sound
where a southern soul can find release and respite and relish the latest fishy dish;
the only crawfish here is the department of no transportation
as I sit and sit and sit and inch by millimeter creep on home,
at TWO in the afternoon…[the schools aren’t out yet!]!
and all the girls are sworn sisters from the order of pure remorse,
how sad.
Texas friendly…you got the dough, they’ll be your friend,
but all my grapes are sour and its Friday, the stereo is on twelve—
the cd is on capricorn records and a lil band from Georgia…Ah-MAN!
so let’s raise that glass of merlot from St Francis, sonoma valley—
brother gots a pig valve, and aunty is winning at bourre, de cours.
Go to the gospel tent! Where’s that streetcar…

Honestly

Honest, Honest
Tell me true
Grass is green
And the sky is blue

Honest, Honest
Tell me quick
John is ok
Though Paul is pretty thick

Honest, Honest
Tell me sure
Taylor rocks
And so does the Cure

Honest, Honest
Tell me please
Why does that little nurse
Make me fall to my knees

Honest, Honest
Tell me bad
Ringlets on babies
Won’t be the next fad

Honest, Honest
Tell me right
We can dance every day
And snuggle all night

Honest, Honest
Tell me more
That it’s really you
Knocking on my door

Honest, Honest
Tell me fast
This kind of love
Will really last

Honest, Honest
Tell me soon
Why do your kisses
Make me swoon

Honest, Honest
Tell me true
You love me
And I love you