Sunday, March 24, 2013

To the One That Got Away

 To the One That Got Away

I wasn't fishing for a good time
when you feel into my lap
I needed some time
time to relax
I was cozy in my chair
I fell into a nap

You startled me
from my doze
I saw your face
I woulda rose
but your beauty
froze me in that stupid pose

And just like that
you were gone
So I woke up one morning
and wrote this country song
I need her back in my arms
that's the place where she belongs

If I saw her again
I would say
"Hello darlin'
why don't 'cha stay?
I'll make you dinner
be your sunshine ray
There's no need to stray
when I hold you tight
keep them wolves at bay.
So darlin'
Woulda say?"

Now each night
'for I go to bed
I look up at the man

and i said

"Dear Jesus
I'm an honest man
Just some things
I don't understand
Since she can't
be in my arms
won't 'cha steer
her free from harm?
Be her guiding light
Wash her tears
tuck her in at night
If you do that
I can live alright.

OH it's a sad sad day
I sing the song
about the one that got away
OH it's a sad sad day
she woulda made for a pretty good fillet

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

West Virginny no way no how

I couldn't fit in all of the stereotypes of the fine folks of West Virginia, but I tried. 

(September 2012)

you won't find me
in west virginny
with no quarter to my name

you won't find me
in west virginny
kissing my dear brother's dame

you won't find me
in west virginny
i done took the train
arms wrapped up around
my dear brother's dame

out in the holler
i'd run moonshine for the boys
daddy twanged the banjo
and I joined him in the noise

sat on the porch
with my dear fiddle
daddy sang a lot
and I sang a little
the youngin's was dancin'
the tallest in the middle
brother was missing
it wasn't a riddle

out in the holler
brother shootin' dear
daddy twanged the bajno
smellin' dinner comin' near

yonder in the holler
to feed his family
chase them doe eyed deer
in his dear appalachy

threw the kill in a sack
threw it on it's back
onto the dirt floor
of our one story shack

we all was happy
we could taste
the sappy blood of bambi
we ran to the latrine
and called upon our daddy

daddy twanged the banjo
brother skinned the deer
it weren't quite dead
and brother lost an ear

ran off into the woods
to resume her life
brother cursed a lot
she took off with his knife
buried in her thick hide skin
it was a present from his wife

down at the table
no one sayin' grace
all were quiet
no smiles on their face
we dug in to our meatless stew
and i suddenly felt displaced

i said when i was young
that when i grew taller
i have a pretty dollar
run off with
my uncle's daughter
and out this holler

so i grabbed my brother's wife
our first cousin jess
hopped on a train
and forgot about this mess

we'll make a family of our own
move to the city
into a mobile home
i'll work nights
leave you and the twins alone

living in sin
living with ma kin
if i had another dollar
i'd do it all again

goodbye west virginny
goodbye for now
goodbye west virginny
won't come back
no way no how.

Monday, February 25, 2013

Working class clown

My inspiration for this is Bob Dylan's Subterranean Homesick Blues

what a pity
living in the city
when you're no longer pretty
situation's shitty
when you ain't seen a titty
since 1950
lost my job
just baby sitting kitty

people with the wealth stare
when I dig through the trashcan
out in my underwear
can't afford no food
so i go on the welfare
pain in the ass
but i can't afford no health care

moved back with my family
just turned 43
ma's on hand and knees
dirtying up her dungarees
i sleep on the couch till 2 or 3
dad works nights at the factory
he come on home yelling at me

'fucking bum
get a job
'for i get my gun
don't care if yer my son
don't walk
when ya gotta run!'

kicked out the union
stealing wine at communion
pass the bottle around
at the unemployment line reunion

'hey steve hey bob
did you hear 'bout our friend rob?
moved out to cali
changed his name to sally
living all alone
tugging guys in an alley

'what about bill the model
his last dollar won the lotto
so he took to the bottle
he can't walk
he can only hobble

'speaking of the bottle
pass the wine.
i'm next in line

Sunday, February 24, 2013

When I was a trucker

Maria didn't care too much for this country western dedicated to her

(August 2011)

at a truck stop diner
when i need a break
you're that shiny beacon
that nice t-bone steak
the center of attention
in the middle of my plate

i spurned the potato
and asked for more of you
she asked if i wanted more gravy
i said i do
like soul food and your ribs
i stick to you like glue

living this life
out here on the road
you remind me of everything
hauling 18 wheels
and a helluva load
i hit the gas
i'm horny as a toad

you're the courtesy flush
at a rest area bathroom
after i've done my deed
you're the cherry twizzlers
dropping from the vending machine

you're the dirty pictures
from a well loved magazine
you're a fresh pack of marlboros
shiny white and red you gleam

you're the wind in my face
when i have the windows down
you're the tobacco juice on my face
when the wind turns it around

you're the $2 whore
when i'm new in town
you're the skid row motel
where that lady drowned
they had a shallow pool
she didn't make a sound

because she was bound

but i woke up
and realized it was all a dream!
my trucking life
was make believe!

i am but a man
who's found his queen

you're the itch in my balls
the cat in my calls
you're at the end of my halls
all along
the paint on my walls
I love you girl.


March 2011

it's simply a fact
an orangutan
would look silly in a hat
it's paramount to what,
rhyming with that

this topic you choose
quite a few questions arose
without futher adeiu
some contemporary orangutan prose

does an orangutan dream
sweet orangutan dreams?
does an orangutan king
have an orangutan queen?
is an orangutan life
quite serene?
or quite the contrary,
and ungodly obscene?

where might i find
an orangutan of mine own?
where on this earth
do they find themselves a home?
perhaps it's the sahara
they happily roam
alongside a lioness, her furry tiara
perhaps altogether a different time zone!

maybe in asia?
against the mighty backdrop
of jagged himalaya?
by chance nothing short of apparitions,
caricatures in fantasia

are orangutans vicious creatures,
or kind hearted
with the noblest of features?
are there orangutan farmers,
orangutan preachers and teachers?

are they orange
as their name could suggest?
are they hard to please
or easy to impress?
would an orangutan look out of place
in a yellow summer dress?

is an orangutan secular
or is there an orangutan god?
does an orangutan bask in the sun
glistening hot orangutan bod?
if i had an orangutan,
surly i'd name him todd

if you called an orangutan by name,
would they be quick to follow?
would an orangutan hamburger
be too difficult to swallow?

eager orangutan youths
lustful orangutan cahoots
knocking sweet sweaty
orangutan boots

do orangutans live amongst the trees?
dangling orangutan knees
infested with fleas
one bite
orangutan disease!
bittersweet orangutan fait accompli

would an orangutan jester
violently struggle
if someone threw him bananas
and forced him to juggle?
does an orangutan couple
have proclivity to snuggle,
or is orangutan romance
particularly subtle?

as far as orangutans
and what they eat
are they herbivores
or are allowed the meat?
is it true,
they eat with their feet?!

aging wise orangutan philosophers
chastise middle aged female orangutan gossipers
whilst building thrones to famous orangutan pickpocketers

in orangutan slumber
is it a procession of terrible snores,
or do they sough like the breeze
and offer nothing more?

orangutan ghosts,
haunting orangutan folks?
simple orangutan hoax?
an old orangutan joke!!

baby orangutans
make a great orangutan poke
a dozen orangutan hides
for my orangutan coat
orangutan bones
for my orangutan boat
orangutan blubber
keeps it afloat
orangutan chum
in my alligator moat
but don't worry!
orangutans love being poached!

welp, it's no longer a mystery,
that's orangutan history!

Perhaps I'll be fashionable, when I'm old and gray

My inspiration for this is an older, well dressed gentleman who roams about my neighborhood

Perhaps I'll be fashionable, when i'm old and gray

tailored suits
don't suit
a body like me
perhaps they'd suit
but me

perhaps when
i'm old and gray
i'll don
a suit of gray
perhaps a bowtie
and a cane
to match my sway

perhaps i'll don
a top hat
when the kids have gone away
yes i will be fashionable
each and every day


This is my lady's favorite one.  I haven't read it since I wrote it.  I could be so romantic.   She gave me the crayon as a topic for a poem

(Summer 2011)

If I had a colored crayon
To draw a picture
Of the most beautiful girl in the land
I would place it in my heart and
in my hand.

For her hair,
Be it most fair
I shall use a brown and a yellow.
Peach for her stomach
I use as a pillow.

It’s blue that I drew
To paint the dress
Precipitously dangling
From her brown freckled neck.
Lips pink as hibiscus
I vociferously peck.

The freckles I mentioned
Strewn like mahogany stars
All the way down to her knee
Her carnation scar.

Grey her busy eyes
Tiny cloud wrinkled skies
Red, rosy cheeks
Like ketchup on your fries.

A baiting smile
Teeth so ivory white
Like a crescent moon
Broken in the night.

In the faint incandescent dim
Of the bar we sat
Chocolate brown bellows
From the black Guinness tap.
Her cardinal tongue exposed
of the froth, she playfully laps.

For all the colors that she shows
She has an iridescent glow
Crayola cannot rightfully know.

Concerning Fire Hydrants

Concerning fire hydrants
March 2011

the water streaming
violently in its throes
the spectators jaws
affixed and frozed
a fight is being waged
and it's this location it chose!

but only a minute ago
you cursed it's existence
at an impasse
and through with persistence
you cursed and swore
because the sign denied you admittance!

"oh why can't i find parking??!"
you outlandishly cry
"and why is that dog barking??"
and the dog let out a sigh

I'm worth the trouble

From time to time I'll craft witty and original country westerns.  Sometimes they may even be remarkable.  Sometimes they maybe aren't even country westerns but something approaching poetry.  Here's a little ditty I wrote to ma lady, it's called I'm worth the trouble.  

i'm worth the trouble
(April 2012)

come bail me out
i'm worth the trouble
it wasn't me
only my evil double.

i haven't shaved
nor behaved
but stick with me
and my lonesome stubble.

come fix me up
when i'm in my rubble
i ain't complicated
like the telescope hubble
so stick with me
i'm worth the trouble.

when i come home so drunk
i can barely stumble
when i can't speak words
i can only mumble
stick with me
i'm worth the trouble.

i'll take you places
by that i mean
the dog track for the races
i'll spend your money
but don't ya worry honey
i'll say something funny
and when i do
you'll realize
i'm worth the trouble.

i got no ambition
but i bought you kittens
look into their eyes
and you'll realize
i'm worth the trouble.