Category Archives: lyric poems

grab the banjo . . .

Friday Night at Rocky’s

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people gonna run when the work week’s done
been moiling and toiling for days
gotta loosen up gotta unwind I
think I know the place
beauty queens with holes in their jeans
middle-aged men in khakis
there’s zydeco on the patio
on Friday night at Rocky’s

they got buffalo wings and onion rings
a side of dirty little secrets, I hear
alligator pie with a glass of wine
or just a burger and a beer
some folks come when they’re getting none
some folks come to watch hockey
some folks come for the dynamo hum
on Friday night at Rocky’s

coats and ties and college guys and
gals with fire engine hair
working folks; heroes and goats
everybody’s there
with a baseball field down the street
game day crowds get rowdy
but it’s a contact sport when the party starts
on Friday night at Rocky’s

weekend comes, relax, have fun
come inside find a seat
or stay on your feet there’s no decree
no propriety
discretions aside, it’s a magic carpet ride
a little kitsch and I guess a little tacky but
let your soul succumb to the dynamo hum
on Friday night at Rocky’s

The Great Flood of ’27

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Down from heaven
Out of the sky
Families huddled
Grown men cried
Towns were flooded
Farmlands drowned
Then came the surging
Mississippi flood tide

The deluge flowed
Down the Mississip
A tragic, sordid story
White folk got
What help was had
Black folk; just more misery

Forced at gunpoint
To work the docks
No pay coming
No false hopes
Starving and sick
Herded like cattle
Constricted
Bedraggled

So with a gunny sack
And the clothes on their back
Some headed north
Along the railroad track
Farms washed away
Homes destroyed
Fled for St Louis
Chicago and Detroit

Escaping Jim Crow’s
Living hell
To like the crowded strip
Of Bronzeville
Jobs and slightly
Less oppression there
But soon the Great Depression
More despair

Truckload of Blame

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I drove a Lonestar SkyRise
From Boston to Portland
Stopped at this dive –
I had to sort things out

Bartender said I had to finish my drink
I didn’t wanna leave
I needed time to think
But it’s no use now
Things will never be the same
So, I’m travelling the country
With a truckload of blame
I’ll drive from coast to coast
Hauling this truckload of blame

I may be sorry for this
I may be sorry for that
Trouble is – that ain’t where it’s at
I’m a sinner, like everybody else
But I’m crying to myself in my sleep
An’ it’s my own damn fault

I left her – one dreary day
Couple of kids, one on the way
I got no excuse
I’m a bounder and a fool
Was a cruel mistake I made
I’ve got a truckload of blame
I’ll drive from coast to coast
Hauling this truckload of blame

Eighteen wheels – Portland to Boston
No one knows I’m transporting my shame
So, I’m travelling the country
With a truckload of blame
I’ll drive from coast to coast
Hauling this truckload of blame

five hour pizza

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the ev’ning flurries, first, before the storm
did snow all night and so the day began
with gentle, juicy flakes of fluffy form
so shovel’d as we went – as if by plan
and daring out just once upon the roads
this Sunday situation seemed so eerie
the Super Bowl, indeed, the show of shows
‘twould make a mess of things ‘twas our new theory
by granting extra time to make the trek
we’d finish off our football grub by halftime
but our consignment in the snowy street got stuck
we had to trudge through knee-deep snow at nighttime
alas, at last, we made it home for dinner
tho’ cold, in time to witness the game winner

When Daddy is a Gunslinger

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he says he has no father
you know that’s not the case
his dad is not at home
and you can see it in his face

his papa only comes around
to bleed the fam’ly dry
then leaves again for them to mend
their wounds – the tears they cry

his daddy is a gunslinger
and violence is his calling
intimidation, confrontation,
bloodshed, guns, and brawling

how many men in prison
have young boys just like him?
who want to love their fathers
but the prospects seem so grim

and all those men who roam the streets
they ply a deadly trade
those boys who need a father
grow up weak but unafraid

his daddy is a gunslinger
he’s doomed to do the same
or break the chain that’s preordained
don’t become what dad became

when he says he has no father
and you know that’s not the case
don’t blame the boy for anger
or the anguish he must face

his papa only comes around
to teach him how to cry
in a social class of broken glass
where kids do not ask why

when daddy is a gunslinger
when momma’s all alone
give this young man what love you can
try and treat him as your own

Did she stay with you ‘til morning?

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     Did she stay with you ‘til morning?  Did she fly about the room like a modern-day Samantha with a black hat and a broom?  Did she cook you up a potion sure to make you fall in love?  Is she who you’re dreaming of?

     Did you dance across the ballroom in those patent-leather pumps?  Or did you boogie in the mosh pit taking in those grinds and bumps?  Did she swoon when you embraced her as she praised the lord above?  Is she who you’re dreaming of?

     Did you dine in fine extravagance – froufrou by candlelight?  Or did you slam a couple burgers at the bar on Friday night?  And does her mother really ever wear white satin gloves?  Is she who you’re dreaming of?

     Did she stay with you ‘til morning?  Did she awake within your arms?  Did you promise to protect her from all evil and all harm?  Is her touch that special feeling that you’ll never get enough?  Is she who you’re dreaming of?

leave it on the lawn

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leave it on the lawn
the lines of loneliness are gone
the gentle breeze is just
a passing gust of wind
left behind from long ago
come inside and close the door
come inside and
stay with me until the dawn

marry me we’ll be together
all the world can see
the artifacts that we’ve collected
while neglecting our own sanity
we can put them on display
in the front yard
folks will say what they will
but you and I will be alone

outside the shadow shouts
but don’t bring it in the house
leave it on the lawn
where it belongs
let the passersby decide
for them own selves
what is right; so it might
be on the lawn but not inside

She was – I am

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She was a witness to disaster
          And emotional upheaval
She’d seen families that were torn apart
          And in economic despair
There were carnal violations
          There was blood upon the easel
But she didn’t seem to notice
          Or she didn’t seem to care

You said happiness is a puzzle
          Some unworkable conundrum
And life is never really that
          What life appears to be
Love and hate and in between
          Sorrow, joy or boredom
We’ll not project the paladin
          And not impose our sympathy

I was sitting in a diner
          You were right across the table
I was drinking coffee
          You were busy with your phone
I asked if you were happy
          You didn’t even answer
I thought I caught a smile from you
          But I could never know

These Fields

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And though I walk these fields alone
I want only to be gone
I think I hear you call my name
I think you seem so far away

And while the summer breezes blow
From seeds the roots begin to grow
I think of you
But you’re so far away

     Take the passions from my past
     They cloud the present story
     The good times fade – the bad times last
     And keep us from the glory of our lives

And though I walk this field alone
And wishing only to be gone
I think the world is still the same
I think you’re still so far away

And while the summer breezes blow
I know we reap the crops we sow
Regret the bargains that
We cut so long ago

     Take the passions from my past
     They cloud the present story
     The good times fade – the bad times last
     And keep us from the glory of our lives

Senses

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When do my senses get caught up in fences?
When do my thoughts take a trip on their own?
All that I’ve wondered, the thoughts that I’ve pondered
All that I’ve seen, heard or touched all alone

My eyes see a stranger, my nose senses danger
But somehow I’m hearing the words of a friend
The air becomes cool as I sit on my bar stool
Playing another sad game of pretend

Sometimes we smell victory, sometimes a trick
Or follow your nose, move from where you are at
See all that is blue or look into the future
Hear what they’re saying up under their hat

What things seem to be, I often don’t see
Like feeling the fool when I’m winning respect
Or I thought I heard praise as their glasses were raised
But I’m not sure what next to expect
          (I don’t trust that pat on the back)

I’ve watched while he preaches, I’ve heard all his speeches
I’ve read of this, that, and the other big deal
My thoughts are confused, is my voice being used?
Concerned about credence – and what I don’t feel

When do my senses get caught up in fences?
When do my thoughts take a trip on their own?
All that I’ve wondered, the thoughts that I’ve pondered
All that I’ve seen, heard or touched all alone

I’m In Heaven

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The sun beats down
     On the North Beach sand
Linda and Mary
     In their summer tan
Sipping lemonade
     As my skin gets fried
(1, 2, 3, 4)
     I must have died

I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)

Crowded into Kroll’s
     For the Sunday game
Bears at Packers
     I can feel the flame
Suzie and Karen
     Shouting football pride
(1, 2, 3, 4)
     I must have died

I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)

At Chief O’Neill’s
     In the afternoon
Drinking pints with a woman
     That I met in June
I can’t remember her name
     But you know I’ve tried
It doesn’t matter . . .
     I must have died

I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)

I’m on the Near West Side
     Underneath the moon
Sitting on a couch
     In The Tasting Room
I’ve got Connie and Becky
     On either side
(1, 2, 3, 4)
     I must have died

I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)
I’m in heaven (do da do-da do)

i don’t even wanna know

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i don’t even wanna know
what you are gonna say ta me
you can forget about me now
please believe me
taken half a year ta find out
why a whisper grows in the dark
if i could see it i’d still
never know
why you wanted ta break my heart
in two – ya did an’ i ain’t sorry
though i really
wanted you
but i was caught between a fantasy
an’ the real world

i don’t even wanna know
why you are tryin’ to belong
you’re just a mystery
but you kept goin’
on an’ on . . .
well, you can put me in yer scrapbook
like so many words gone down
like the sound of
fallin’ snow
i ain’t around no more
ta tell yer troubles to
an’ i won’t listen
if i could but I will always
in my dreams remember you