Up in the Air

This week won’t freakin’ end,
All the good amaretto’s gone,
Lost the cat on Another Manic Monday—
I know I did something wrong.
Not sure why they shot down my balloon,
So pretty in the clear blue sky—
They say they’ll have information soon,
I just wanna know: goodness sakes, why?
So I see a fair bit of coin has found its way into my bin
Precisely at the time when I dream of seeing you again
So I’ve a modest proposal, nothing up my sleeve;
Thanks for keeping in touch and yes I can breathe.
Perhaps I gotta open a vein,
Gonna really do it this time,
I just can’t go thru this again,
So many clouds at the horizon of elm and pine.
Better try to shift to the minor chord—
An incautious leap into a changed mind:
Love all your thoughts and prayers;
How the masses act so very kind.
But soon Burzek will stroll an aisle;
When once my only friend was Nurse Abby,
But looks like we’re waiting for a while:
What’s the name of your old tabby?
He’s so lost inside this ethyl place
Of his own making
So I seem to be so amazing;
Ain’t anybody here faking.
No answers from an imprudent text,
Who knows what’s coming next.
Chances swarm and the mind reels—
Is this how kismet feels?
Around the bend, around the corner,
Such nights as these I could be a goner.
So here I am at something o’clock,
But that’s not the real time.
It’s just at where in Life’s maze I’m lost
Awaiting a new midnight to fix this rhyme.

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What Time Have You

So here I am at seven o’clock
Umm, that’s not the real time
Its where in my maze I’m lost at
Is really 9:20am to fix the rime
Lost inside this place
Of my own making
So I am amazing
Ain’t anybody here faking
Two glasses gone
A merlot for moi
What’ll you have—
Muscadine for toi?
Truelove went to Maine
Chances favor the Bentley
But we‘ll go home alone
Just saying truth, incidentally
No answers from my imprudent text
Who knows what’s coming next,
Chances swarm and the mind reels,
I wonder is that how kismet feels.
Around the bend and around the corner
Such nights as these I could be a goner
But the parade comes thither and anon
Beads, doubloons, and lingering glances and I’m so gone
Over my head for the goddess up ahead
Only to return solo to my Lysol-kissed unmade bed
Cat gets his insulin in the morning
Nine units to keep him alive
You think live isn’t fair
Well, I can’t disagree Clive
So here I am at nine o’clock
Umm, that’s not the real time
It’s just where in my maze I’m lost at
Is really midnight to fix the rime

Asuncion

All my words are collapsing
Piling up about my feet
To be totally honest
Would be quite the feat
Two glasses gone
And the walls aren’t even soft
Tried to attend the BBC
But can’t abide Bancroft
Turn up the stereo
Sorry y’all in 401
But the Friday has just come
And some loud hasn’t even begun
My hi-div stocks are up
Why am I so down
Growing old disgracefully
A plan not aforethought nor very sound
Rads on eleven!
What does the arresting officer say?
Shining in the deep—
What’s the damn capital of Paraguay?
Words fail me so prettily
With male baldness showing
With all this global warming
Why is it snowing

Slaughtered

Oh such sadness
Oh such deep remorse
The old poet has lost the rhyme
For him there’s no recourse
In vino veritas
Has left for brighter shores
The laundry needs folding
Our simile likes whatever’s yours
Oh my my, O mercy me
Here comes that Kentwood child
Scrumptious in all her filigree
Goodness gracious, why must she sashay so wild
The taliban slaughtered some high schoolers
Six o’clock news as old as Cain and Abel
Want to understand the matter black of it all—
Best lay all your cards on the table
Oh dearie dear me
One’s mere life is no bull
9-1-1 has lost your address—
Hope your unsurance is paid in full

Glass To Glass

A life grown smaller
Measured from glass to glass
Sunny days dimmer now
What horrors new shall pass?
Granpa passed today
The next soft soul rising to a sure heaven
Awaiting the next kickoff
Are we kneeling for our unseen clerk in 7-Eleven?
A chippy bite of merlot
Chartreuse green simmers in our glass
September signals the Fall
What horrors new will pass?
Matriculated on yonder Austin hill
Pray for the new generation
While preen we old and spent—
A history mitered in misty veneration
Are you masqueing this year?
Can’t we just get a pass?
Tiring of this asterisked year—
What new horrors are to pass?

Tu Et Moi

Hey! What’s cooking?
Girl, put on some pants!
I’m so so grateful
How you make can out of my can’ts.
Making birthday plans—
Who’s going out of town?
Can you tell me what’s coming up
Or how we’ll never live it down?
Tu et moi:
We still work this well-traveled path.
La dee dah—
Do you really want to do the math?
A glass or two
Usually really does the trick,
But you’re not that way
And I think I’m not that thick.
Wherever we’re going,
It’s the best being it’s homemade!
Let’s meet on the avenue;
We’ll try to find some shade.
Tu et moi:
We still walk this old graveled road.
La dee dah—
I could be your poeter a la mode.
Chocolateness coconut
Or a lemony doberge:
Sweet enough for everyone—
No taste ever to disparage.
Amused you’re a Muse?
There’s more on the way.
Let’s work this connection,
Girl, whattayasay?
Tu et moi:
With sunshine or a little rain
Thank you for answering—
It’s lovely to hear you again.
Ladeedah!

A Different Truth

False leads, false steps,
False love
Leading to devastating effects

Round about now
I haven’t a clue
Round about know
I really miss you
Round about now
The sky is growing dim
Round about now
I’d bet you’re dancing with him

Happy times, happy days
Happy pills
Rewriting how this all plays

Round about now
Things begin to rhyme
Round about now
I’ve forgotten the time
Round about now
I’d take a second glass
Round about now
Sanity takes a pass

Rock stars, rock songs
Rocky relations
Yielding a space that prolongs

Round about now
The page is full
Round about now
It’s all a buncha bull
Round about now
The whole world is getting high
Round about now
Time to type goodbye

False leads, false steps,
False love
Sowing old devastating effects

Friday The 13th Acadien

He ain’t user friendly
He prefers bottom shelf
You’ll never see it coming
He won’t much mind, himself
“Baby’s toys gracing the floor”
She asks if there’s gonna be another stanza—
“Baby breathless, asking for more”
He gets the glasses down from the credenza
He don’t care who won the game
He hates to mow the lawn
He’d like to return to Barcelona
But, well, he’s slightly overdrawn
“So, what are we up now, love?”
His muse has some quite juicy lines—
“Don’t worry, baby, we have the time.”
She has the all of everything for which he pines.
He writes the stuff after dark
He likes his second glass
The neighbors seem to cringe:
Pity, he really hasn’t much class
Remember, deeply, the seventies
When Zeppelin was all the rage?
(This rhymester’s saddest secret:
Why wasn’t he born Jimmy Page?)
He steals words from his muse:
“Carefully caressing every soft contour”
Anticipation sweet, removing those fancy shoes:
“Even her red toes, that he does adore”
He thinks he can dance
He’s torn it up with the best.
But here comes Friday the 13th
He won’t much mind this test.

–thanks for writing assist by June O!

Creepin

Creepin creepin
Oughta be sleepin
Full moon burns the sky
All alone don’t know why
Free footin lookin at goodlookin
Goodlookin outta be sleepin
Stars in the sky they know why
Mayb someday I’ll givit a try
Sneakin sneakin
Black cat low peepin
de prey tarry too long
Cat jumps prey done gone
Kissin kissin
But love b missin
Clouds scurry on by
Vote for who wont evn try
Pourin pourin
Soon da poet b snorin
Full glass drain to dregs
No love for he who begs
And creepin

Etiquette Fail

And so the time has come to go.
Thanks for your time and the Music and the Love;
Wisht I’d better acquitted myself,
And had earned a place up there high above.

But I’s just another fat American
With no one else better to blame;
Like Journalism on the Progressive bias—
All part of the same tired game.

But what are these chest pains:
Signal push-ups or Pearly Gates?
Gotta go to work tomorrow
With a boss who blithely hates.

So, have another glass of merlot—
Twas an unassuming vintage.
But I’ll miss you ever the most:
Thou of sterling mintage.

But it hurts a bit right here,
Around about where my broken heart lies.
Bury me next to Momma or scatter me in Sandbridge;
Try not to mind those nipping sand flies.

But you better not fail me:
You best try to find the Real;
Don’t lie, don’t drug, don’t cheat,
And never, ever lower yourself to steal.

Now, it’s past time to leave.
[Never got that part right]
Adios muchachos,
Bon soir, and good night.