let's write a pop song

This is my reaction after listening to pop music (lyrics)

I'm coming out. so you betta get this party started!
If I was Ke$ha I would make a reference that your music is retarted!
If I was Enimem, I would have a sexual reference  with angst and refuse to dance
Unless  I was Kanye then I would say OHMYEGO isn't just happenstance
I hope I hit number 1 on the US Charts
because that's when my party starts!

It's raining men! and its  a bloody mess
Cause If  I am Rihanna I would make a cover before I began to confess
about Chris and converting old hits over writing  my own
Cause If I was  Usher my own cover  would get blown
unless  throaty like Adele but setting fire to rain
this is the pop  life Susan Boyle, fast and insane!

It's catchy and senseless, there are rules and money
Taylor Swift and words that drip and drizzle like honey
it's on the radio and will get played  at least twice in  an hour
you are  on  top Miley until your twit  pics turn your fans sour
Warhol goes  on laughing with Marilyn  midst the soup cans
Fame is fleeting, almost as fast as Facebook generates page fans

I want something else! a semi ordinary kind of life
I want to die older than dying young, with  kids and a wife
I want more meaning than lady Gag me with  a spoon can  sing
I want to be more than these 5 repeated notes can bring
But  it could be worse, I could be listening to  Country Music on top
old  dogs, women  in  boots and beer, but it has got to stop
especially since  if it won't make  the CMT Charts it will soon be POP!


   

Romeo and Juliet

A star-struck romance on the streets of  Shame

knives crossed in combat

only family honor to blame

A young lover steps out of shadows and whispers her name

to the moonlit balcony where his would-be love

his forbidden dame

walks out of her darkness, she is love, answers, aflame.

“Wherefore is my reckless love?

Under my balcony or in the shadow’s cover

Come speak all the words that love is made of

come to kiss my wet lips my mysterious lover.”

The young lover climbs the vines to her balcony

reaching across the space from the oaken tree

he looks into her eyes and solemnly

sings his lovelorn lust romantically.

“Juliet, my Juliet, when we make love you used to cry

I love you like the stars above,

I love you until the day I die.

And you forgot -forget that our love was out of sight

until those stars fell from the night.”

“Now your Family wishes me dead and I’ve no place

to lay my heart to find my rest

still I would like to do my best

and live suddenly beating within your breast.”

She giggles at the thought and then startled says

“My love, oh my love- I have not forsaken you

but you must flee unto the night

and with your love unrequited

find safe haven until we can reunite.

Romeo, my Romeo, I love you like the stars above

I love you until I shall die

but before I forget, that our love is doomed despite

our best efforts let’s flee now back into the night.”

A star crossed romance on the streets of shame

two families with only their mutual hate to blame

now gather for two funerals in the pouring rain

by lost innocence, joy and pain.

Brothers in Arms

In these mist covered hills
that are home now for me
But my home is in Africa
And always will be
Someday I will return to
the farm and the fields of my fathers
And I will will long to be with my
brothers in arms
Through these years of wandering
Baptisms of fire, stress and mystery
I've watched the world's suffering
As the wars go on and on
though the pain lingers with me still
through the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
your memory did not desert me
My brothers in arms
There are so many different lands
under so many different suns
we have just this one small world
And while we live in different times
Now when everything has gone to hell
I thought that you may have known me well
Let me bid you all a fond farewell
Every man has a time to die
Every day must pass into night
Every hope should remain in the light
Every prayer is in God's own sight
Every choice has its own charms
We were fools to make war
On our brothers in arms

(with full acknowledgement to Dire Straits -for their song- and to my cousin Wayne Kaiser for 

finding redemption there in it and my own memory of him)

Nevermore, or at least he said no more!

As I sit here in the  Undercroft Idly waiting
I ponder and  wonder about the lack  of dating
that I am doing without carbon  copy or girls
this fact appears as  I consider what  my life  still unfurls

As  I sit  here listening to pandora's box of songs
I think of Lenore and the Raven's wrongs
as it gently clicks then clacks in incessant tapping
could  it  be that  my conscience is caught napping
while pouring over pdfs of forgotten lore?

now my behind is sore.

I am in the dark but the lights are still lit
I know it is rather odd or I am deep into- no  I meant  it.
Poe  would smile and say  that idiot had him wrong
he never met Abe,  and apart  from  the flocking throng
his only bloodlust was for some wine
vampires are mostly a waste  of some precious time
could I  come up with anymore rhymes

could I invent anymore crimes.

As I am in  the shadows of my own  devising
I can see that it is not my hard drive that needs
you can guess what comes next- resizing
you  can say it is  all about the format
not about lonely hearts or inquisitive cats
I  can feel  my  blood  pounding
at the words that  I am sounding
as I pour out my soul's deepest needs

shall I write more for you to read?

Shakespeare Revamped

Fear No More

Fear no more the heat of the sun

Nor the Fury of the winter's rages.

Soon our time on this earth will be done

Going back home, having taken your wages

Old men and women all must

Face their fates and come to dust

Fear no more the words of our leaders

You are beyond the words they misspoke 

Let cares go with the rest of the media- the bottom feeders

Be more than common be more than folk

Your education, understanding and science must

Follow the natural progression and come to dust

Fear no more the weather or the storm

Nor the dreaded social isolation

Fear no more the fear of being beyond the norm

You can be more than their expectation

All Lovers young and all lovers old, can trust

In this which is that it all ends in dust

No Radio Host harm thee

Nor Social Network charm thee

Your beliefs can set you free

Nothing more comes as free

This wisdom is how you would behave

And renowned like the Bard will be thy grave.

I am going to use my Trebuchet*

I am going to use my Trebuchet*

When I think on you with all my heart, I know that to get here from the start

Is going to take more than all that D&D Dice, more than passing go twice

It's going to take all my Creme' Brulee**- NO! It's going to take a Trebuchet!

I will lay seige to your castle, I will assault your walls that surrounds your love

I will find endure the hassle, I will find a way to your side from below or above

I will not give in, nor will I give up, I will fight until my last breath-there is but only victory or death.

I will not surrender, I will not parley, I will not yield the field or even the day.

There is only the war of my passion, that and my Trebuchet!

*A trebuchet^{[nb 1]} (French trébuchet) is a siege engine that was employed in the Middle Ages. It is sometimes called a "counterweight trebuchet" or "counterpoise trebuchet" in order to distinguish it from an earlier weapon that has come to be called the "traction trebuchet", the original version with pulling men instead of a counterweight. The counterweight trebuchet appeared in both Christian and Muslim lands around the Mediterranean in the twelfth century. It could fling projectiles of up to three hundred and fifty pounds (140 kg) at high speeds into enemy fortifications.

**Crème brûlée ( /ˌkrɛm bruːˈleɪ/; French pronunciation: [kʁɛm bʁy.le]),^[1] also known as burnt cream, crema catalana, or Trinity cream is a dessert consisting of a rich custard base topped with a contrasting layer of hard caramel. It is normally served cold.

friendship

Sometimes in life,

you find a special friend;

Someone who changes your life

just by being part of it.

Someone who makes you laugh

until you can't stop;

Someone who makes you believe

that there really is good in the world.

Someone who convinces you

that there really is an unlocked door

just waiting for you to open it.

This is Forever Friendship.

When you're down,

and the world seems dark and empty,

Your forever friend lifts you up in spirit

and makes that dark and empty world

suddenly seem bright and full.

Your forever friend gets you through

the hard times, the sad times,

and the confused times.

If you turn and walk away,

your forever friend follows.

If you lose your way,

your forever friend guides you

and cheers you on.

Your forever friend holds your hand

and tells you that

everything is going to be okay.

And if you find such a friend,

you feel happy and complete,

because you need not worry.

You have a forever friend for life,

and forever has no end.

A part of you has grown in me,

together forever we shall be,

never apart,

maybe in distance,

but not in heart"

I love you

I want to be a fiscal conservative one day

Oh wouldn't it be a better world if I  were a  Fiscal Fish!
A  fiscal conservative who is conserved in every policy!
A fish that advocates the avoidance of deficit spending
A  clam out of shell and eternally free
oh  how I  long  to  actually  be 
A fiscal conservative like Mitt Romney!

Oh would it be a more  open wider sea
if the  governments was swimming with moderate
limited budgets like small clusters of spending
in and out  of the trade  that  is almost certainly going to be free
if  we can deregulate our indulgent burdening economy!
Oh how I long to actually be 
a fiscal conservative in a freshly salted taxonomy!

There and there little fishes swimming around the reefs
that surround us all that we call this great country
So even if we  are swimming with the sharks 
its not like they are going to eat  us before the narcs
there are still  bigger fish than little ole conservative  me
Oh how I long to actually be
a fat cat conservative with lots and lots of money!

Style

Style : An impression                                                                                                  10-28-1999

Fascination with clothing and body

The way clothing flows as the bodies move

Turn and turn on the runway.

Obsession with forms of women

Reshaping, rearranging, renaming

Creating new visions out of old ones

Rarity, perfection to mark the times.

Obscurity, a conception in design of pattern

Turning, always turning on the catwalk

Making faces with colors shocking

In and out of fashion clashing in front of

Cameras flashing, oh so absolutely dashing

Heels stride along clicking clacking.

boys this needs work

Memoirs of a Romantic

Alone in a café in Vienna, I sit pondering the perplexity of my wasted youth

Lost to love, I was- I am a rather romantic man now dead to my desires.

I longed for this foolish and ponderous game that has ruled and ruined my life

Was it all worth it?

The crushed flowers, the hot feel of their slaps on my face, the slamming doors, the wrecked cars, the shattered windows, the melted chocolates, the spilled perfume

Was it all worth risking the danger, the excitement of running down the empty streets

Of Paris dodging the gunfire but still ending with bullet holes in my breaking heart

Was it all worthy of such passion that I would give that heart away again or wear it upon the proverbial sleeve of desire for the company of women

They are kind and cruel and passionate and cold, they are a perplexity of contradictions

Contractions, retractions, utter change at the drop of my hat they decide my eternal fate

I am done with love and lust, I am done with effort and accomplishment

Forever I will find myself alone at table in ideal locations

Like this solitary table in a café in Vienna.

For Crissy

In these dreams we will meet

in the ecstacy of fading sleep

in separate beds and separate sheets

together in the darkness deep.

Across the nights of our lives 

across the summers of heat so sharp

that now in my winter its hard to remember what it was 

to be so excited so alive.

Perhaps our sexes did not allow for this union

perhaps our fates were not entwined 

the hours are passed the moments are defined

now I only see you in my past now I can only picture you in my mind.

In my dreams you still come to my bed

in my sleep you are no longer dead

in our tears we walk side by side 

although I am still behind while you are ahead.

Together yet apart

too late for anything to start

I miss you like I miss my art

you are my muse and I miss being in your heart.

There was a woman- like fine porcelain, with deep blue eyes...

Isabelle D'Anjou

Her face is fair like that of fine white porcelain. Her skin is so pale that it  reflects the light that is reflecting off the moon on clear nights. Her brown tawny hair once was long enough to rest on her shoulders and reach down her back until she cut it short last spring. Now her hair is rough in design cropping close to her ears and neck, but still soft with the feel of golden feathers. Her eyes are clear, which reminds me of a Kestrel I once saw, trapped by its thong thrashing for freedom. Eyes that are quick and sharp that look everywhere at once until they settle on her chosen prey, then their still and focused. She watches you with her whole body focused for the moment of truth. She hold her mouth thin against her face as if trying to hide a smile and the cool color of her lips.

She runs through my memory, always in soft down shirts made of subdued white and yellow cottons, tied at the waist with a belt of leather, her leggings are black as if a background to what she is wearing. Her boots when I see them are light brown and gray like the fur of a rabbit’s hide. She is a long way from the gilded ballrooms and multilayered dresses of silk and petticoats. She is laughing as she runs after some game of her own devising.

Her smile is white with the slightest hint of yellow stains of drinking too much tea. Her lips now revealed are dark slashes on her face like brush strokes of paint driven red from blood brought forth from her excitement. The mists of breath pour out from her nose and mouth as she pauses to collect herself. Her nose, which she never cared for is straight and long enough to give the impression of a line from eyes to lips. She catches me staring at her and turns on heel to dash away. Then she stops and her head drops as twilight pushes back the dimness of our dreams and shadows appearing to redefine her details.

            Now her womanhood has returned and her breasts confirm it by casting shadows on her cotton shirt. She places her hands on her hips and looks back at me. I paint a lame smile on my face and shrug, saying-

“Tomorrow night is another day away.”

Her smile returns but not as joyful as it once was, the ends of her mouth do not climb the cliffs of her porcelain cheeks. The dimple in her chin remains hidden. Her eyes look up at me then are downcast at my feet and again I am reminded of the Kestrel as it surrenders to its hood.

“Tomorrow night then?”

            I nod. She walks away moving through the wet grass, graceful like the glide of a swan on a rippling lake.

The Truth about Men and Dogs

Men and Dogs

“Men are Dogs!” she said with a sneer. “Men are Dogs” she said again and I agreed.

“But you’re a man?” she replied. Thank you I said, I have really tried.

“So you are saying that you are a dog.” disbelief masking her face.

No. rather we- that is men are like dogs. We like to sleep all day, we like to hunt, we like to beg, we like to play, and we want the attention.

“Oh come on!” she said with a smile.

No really, most of us are just in denial. We love to have our backs scratched, and we love to be petted, why we go to great lengths for a good petting.

“Petting?” she said her brow furrows.

Like this I said and patted her hand, then ran my fingers up her arm to her neck.

“Down boy.” She declared, her eyes narrowing to slits.

We bark at the moon chase cars and women. We love to get crazy, hoping and howling, always trying to be the loudest dog on the block.

“I think you are exaggerating somewhat.” She frowned

No Men are in most ways like dogs. We like to eat- mostly beef and we even will perform for some kind of treat. We like to run in the pack or become lone wolves.

“Now I can see that.” She said with a grin. “Men have this unspoken bond that is- instinctual- when faced with a problem or a girl friend.”

Ouch I said, Men may seem that they don’t care or become unpleasant when facing adversity, we just see that there are strength in numbers and thus problems can be thus avoided as are girlfriends…

“Is that all men and dogs are?” her sneer came creeping into her smile.

Seeing ther peril I changed my attack and said, We love to be loved and hugged, we loved to be fed and housed But at the same time we want to be kept, we want freedom and desire to run loose but still have a warm bed to return to.

“Oho, you have been exposed, men and dogs sleep around, are unruly and untrustworthy- and-“ She would have continued, but I help up my hand.

Would you let me finish?

“Okay.”  Triumph beginning on her face.

“We are loyal and protective. We want someone to watch over- we will stick around as long as you will let us and..

“And?” She said, eyebrow arching.

We make the best friends.

“Like you?” she sighed, smiling again.

Like me and good old Blue.

some more dogs and men stuff:

The Movie

yes there is even a book

buy it at Barnes & Noble

LOVE SONG

Like a surge of emotion I felt tears in my eyes every time I see

her and the ache in her heart. Truths that cannot be told only secrets

whispered to my heart. In my denial of emotion that cries out of with the drumbeat fall thundering in my chest as I breathe her.

Like sorrow at the distance between my sight and her touch, a

gulf of  thoughtless ideas of what love should be-might be-is.

Truths untold never mentioned and emotion talks hold and screams out in the whine of a steel guitar as if it were the pain I feel in my stomach as she walks away.

Like the tears falling from the sky my heart weeps at the thought

that she no longer wants me that the song has left us

cry to my pain, call to my arms the aching of longing for that which I only thought

I had and not from the actual loss that I am feeling

Don't walk away nor should you run from what was or could have been

our lives could be as one breath, one moment, one song.

Epitaph

I would have been known like J.R.R.

But lost my path in the burroughs of a forgotten shire.

The words came, except that they flowed only reluctantly

An inconsistent stream of ideas and dialogues

Of unfinished characters and meandering plots.

I died without knowing love save for those quick passions

That fill youth like bottle rockets shooting into the night sky.

I did not find out what the lasting embrace

Nor the familiar touch.

The meaning now gone as lost relationships that end

In messy fights and tearful disagreements.

I die with no resentments for is loss or the apparent

Lack of it’s mystery.

I still wish I had but a drop of bittersweet drought of the

Unripened nectar all the same.

I taught in vain.

Who will remember me?

Save for the fact that I once drove a vehicle the same as my name?

And was obnoxious enough to deserve the grudging respect

Of the younger generations I had wished to help mold.

Now the grayness of the encertain voyage draws nigh

And the fear of parting this life beats my heart to a stop and I look

To the only familiar friend I have known to visit me soon.

lonliness

Loneli Ness

alone in a backroom of a garage-apartment.

sitting in front of a keyboard tip-tapping away into the night

looking through webs alongs digital nets

in search of life

in search of truth

in search to escape this prison called Loneli Ness.

Like a mysterious monster from the depths of a Scottish loch

it rears its unseen head and looks long at the shadow of the

man sitting alone in the twilight of a moniter reading

conversation from another place in the world.

alone in the night, lost in the silence beneath an airy vent

whispering rumbles of the system as my mind searches for words

that I am slow to find and hesitant to type

as the iron disk of memory whirs

as the imagined touch warms my back

as the chill settles on my skin and

sleep slides into my eyes until I wake to write this again in draft to draft

with fluctuations of dreams clouding my senses of the feelings of my hold on the reality and the nature of the state from which wine flows and Loneliness.

Camel

I stood on the hot sands looking

from east to the wide open west.

The wind rising from the north to sing south

blowing crystalline tears sparkling in waves

across the shallow dunes.

I realize that I must be along way from my home.

Bagwah, City of Golden Sands, rises out of the night,

promising the treasures of Sharizaddi's thousand and

one nights. Delights undreamed of fill my thoughts

as before the great gates I fall finding my knees in the

the same hot sands I have crossed.

I feel the might of the Semitic God upon my shoulder

forcing me to bow down as if demanding a prayer,

but the new warmth tells me it is the newborn sun

rising to remind me that I have no more water.

In the silence the thunderous whisper of a memory

reminds me as to what drove me here.

The passion for a woman with dark skin and deep eyes

burns hot like the hunger that has brought me to this

parched end at a dry oasis, and

neither her beauty nor my desire can bring me back

to my feet as I pitch forward with one last memory

to accompany me into darkness,

lust and desire can lead a fool to drink from a poisoned well.

she walks in my dreams

She walks in my dreams, a song of olde English on her lips

She sings Bonny Portmore and Tennyson, Shakespeare and Soul

Somewhere a harp slides out its steel stringed tune

As the fall of her gone moves like silken water across

The shapely curve of her hips

Take from me this moment, take from me any mention

Of this forgotten love, take from my mouth the

Power of the pen and cast them out into the desperate darkness

The promise of beauty, the pleasure of this night

As I walk the streets of New York City clad only

In my poems shimmering like urban mirages in June

She walks in my dreams out of the fogs that no longer roll in still the mists remain

She speaks in a husky whisper of things that we can only share in small rooms

Somewhere an Mp3 player blares out a staccato of sound that decries the city heat

as life shapes itself around her passage and my heart skips its expected beat.

The curve of her cheek, the slope of her shoulder

the way her hair falls down her hear, the smell of

her perfume, the traces of past tears and unfulfilled 

laughter as the Sun surrenders to the darkness of night

the dreams return and my words run dry.

School Haze

School Haze

It was a time of introspection exploring things I thought I knew

Trying to learn things I believed I could use

Listening to others whose pretense was wisdom

Writing words of truth and lies of appreciation.

There were days of discovery, the stolen moments of youth

The wandering wondering in and out of shadows

The passions felt the hours of stillness

Waiting for something anything to happen

My school haze is now passed and all that remains

Is the golden recollections that it meant more than

What exists now as I recall my confusion and shock

Upon realizing that I knew little and learned more than

I had before.

needs work

I saw a Vision.

A woman floated in pools of light

As sunlight through windows misted

Tinting shards glowing against gothic stones.

You moved across the floor of marble glistening

Bearing a candle burning a flame glowing

Towards an altar rising, rising out of the shadows

An architecture dominating the sky.

I saw a vision-

You were lighting candles around you

Casting shadows to every niche, every corner

A hall of darkness ritualistic designing.

You turned and fixed a stare upon me,

Your eyes unblinking, naval and deep

Like midnight waters shimmering on a blue lake

You spoke to the silence that no man can

Hope to hear or live if repeating

Words like songs of music filling

The emptiness of the dominion of man.

I saw a vision of a woman staring at me

As if to question

The validity of the emotions I was feeling.

I looked deeper into the wells of your sight

The gateway to your heart

But I fail to gain entry only to be left wandering

Around your presence in the space.

I reach out to answer your prayer

Although it was not mine to reply or grant

Then in this night I hear my own

Desparate cry and my vision blurs

With tears as I scream alone in my bed.

last rites

Now I am revisiting old poems that need work and or a decent burial:

Last Rites

Last rites in the darkening sky

        Coming forth from the dragon’s cry

        Singing of his dying race

Echoes out into the night and space.

        Wings of red fury

        Rising to the skies

        Thunder sounding

        As the dragon flies.

Gone is the old age

Bring in the new

The old code is past

And the heroes grow few.

The new order is here

Men of steel now ride

In waves of dread and fear

See the destructive tide

Ancient origins in the birthing pool

        No more hatchlings, no more fuel

        We are born from the immortal dreams

        To the days of the haunted screams

        Wings of sleek silver

        Soaring above the sea of cloud

        Slipstream wind ripping

        Secret shadow above the shroud

The millennium has come to the evident end

        Histories becomes epic, myth and pretend

        Eternal lives have been cut short

By the Knights questing for renown and sport.

        A time of delay and of shock

        Desolation, the decapitation of the slain

        As the culling of a flock

        Dragons are dying in this deadly reign.

The old dominion on our hallowed ground

        Abandoned, we are hidden, not to be found.

        We are coming close to being on the brink

Of extinction, the bitter betrayal, the poisoned drink.

        Wings of red steel

        Fall like lightning, an arrow

        No mercy, I will not feel

        Rend and rip no sorrow.

II.

Our kind has come to this unfortunate fate

        Our defense comes too slow, too late

        Our young are orphaned in birth

Our mates are slain, their blood stains the earth.

        Anger has robbed us of our deep wisdom

        Hatred and anger is now all we can sum

        Where is our might against our common foe?

        All we have left is vengeance and woe.

Death and ruin, I stand against the dying sun

        War torn, scattered the man army on the run

        Many are dead, dying in the ruddy dirt

What cost victory? Was it worth all this death and hurt?

This passion leaves me, I find myself alone

What of my sins, how can I atone?

My kind is lost, I am the last

A monster of legend, from the past.

III.

Lost to life, my hopes, dreams, and visions fail

        All that is left will be found in fairy tales.

        I wander this new world in silence and grief.

Hated by some, feared by all, trusted by none, a thief.

        I have stolen the man from his kin

        I have killed the son, an unforgivable sin.

        I have taken the husband from the wife

        I am the pariah, the enemy of life.

        Wings in grey mists

        Hiding from the days light.

        Hunted, marked on the lists

        The prize for the chivalrous knight.

Old magic found deep in forgotten forests green

        She finds me hidden, unfound and unseen.

        She reaches out without fear, without hate

Binding us together, damning us in the game of fate.

        Beauty and the beast, known to few

        Peace now comes, she is true

        Her innocence heals me

        She sets my heart free.

The old storms only visit on the silent nights

        I sleep content in her company and light.

        She is now my hope, my passion and my life

Wed by nature, unified, the end of the past strife.

        Sunlit fields waving in the breeze

        Far away from any civilized place

        Wiling away the days with ease

        Happiness is ours, a moment of grace.

        A season to stay by my side

        To swim together in the ocean tide

        To share my life, to take my part

        Until she took an arrow aimed for my heart.

Sorrowful dirges I sing in the quiet morn

        I clasp her body to me, wishing I had never been born

        She was my soul and it has died within me

        Rage is revived and struggles to be free.

        Wings of Black Death

        Shadow the scorched land

        Scarred by the dragon’s breath

        Struck down where they stand.

I am the destructive juggernaut

Speeding like a plunging bird of prey

A sword forged in pain, terribly wrought.

Swift as lightning, I enter the fray.

There in the path of destruction, a child in my way

        Bravely trembling, stopping my wrath.

        Confronts me with her memory, I betray

        Her love, her trust, her smile, her laugh.

Turn now from this madness

My violence comes to an end

Now I see only her sadness

As this girl cradles her dead friend.

Last rites in the darkening sky

        Coming forth from the dragon’s cry

        Singing of his long dead race

        Calling out for her lost embrace

Wings of gold wonder

Rising above the desolation

I sing again as I wander

Echoing over the shattered nation.

She clutches at the hands of her fallen friend

Knowing that she came this close to the legend

She looks back up into the starry night

In wonder at the dragon’s flight.

Finis.