Blog Archives

Do You Mean Me?

Are those soft words meant for me?
Is it now safe to settle into tranquility?
Icy rains ahead on roads fog-wrapped
Fleeing a love wherein I was once trapped.
Twelfth Night revelers muster at the Carrollton barn
Their annual trek to recover their childhood yarn:

Hey, throw me something mister!
Hey, don’t look that way at my sister!
Meet me at The Avenue and Seventh
Of course! Bring your cousin Kenneth!
Doubloons, cups, beads, catch the daylight;
Oh baby, kiss me good; sweetie, hug me tight.

And so Hump Day with ashes full arrives
And recriminations cut with dull knives—
I only kissed her once on a day care forgot.
We’re done, that’s it, you’d rather not—
Why is life in the thirties so stupid?
Aren’t we adults, who killed Cupid?

Why do we think ourselves
Into such boxes of darkness,
Into that snare of wrong turns;
To put down hard roots
Into a newer unloved land;
Grasping, weak and missing—
Another lost kite string over the hedge;
Another lost thing we swore to keep;
Living a clueless life over the edge
As now I lay me down to sleep?

Are those soft words meant for me?
Is it now safe to settle into tranquility?
Diseases and ruin now arrive to drag us back home.
My armor was never silver but warehouse chrome.
O, to die in Ashland, intox’ed by her clackety-clack.
Just to home return, but you can never ever go back.

Add A Little sgt Pepper

O sing me song by Old Billy Shears
Tell me we’re in days and nights of shifting gears
Promise me it’ll all be completely okay
That we can certainly disagree and still go out and play
I just need somebody to love

O promise me something
A hope to last all day
A guarantee of smiles
A game for all to play
And of course Henry the Horse dances the waltz

Voters are so serious
A future to ball and chain
Leave them their ballots
Recounted again and again
With our love we could save the world

Lend me fair breezes
Skies full of scudding clouds
Miles of rolling farmland
Serrated by old plows
Sitting on a sofa with a sister or two

Beaches bathed in sunshine
With waves of crashing surf
Or mountain valleys misted
Rocks peeking through the turf
Now they know how many ‘holes it takes to fill Albert Hall

We did scavenge Old Dixie
But, a baby is on the way
A guarantee of smiles
How James and Jessie will play
Yours sincerely, Wasting Away