• 950 replies
    marye
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    May 26, 2007
    By suggestion, a place for the poets among us to post their words.

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  • January 2, 2021 - 6:04am
    Mohitvermaji51
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    December 30, 2020
    thank

    thank for that :)
    https://mybk-experience.onl https://www.mc-d.uno/mcdvoice/

  • August 16, 2020 - 5:59am
    free idea 72
    Joined:
    August 16, 2020
    From touch to touch

    Each moment individual separate, never touching.
    A space, a breath, three sneezes, and a bless you.
    Pristinely rough, the challenge is that
    Nothing ever happens.
    Free and clear, nothing touches you,
    Nothings touching me.
    In golden light fading, we watch
    Our faces becoming drawn,
    Revealing parents and lizards and tigers inside.
    The heart is like cement.
    Oh so easy to get harder and harder,
    Until the only solution is to
    Take a sledgehammer to it,
    And smithereen it back into tenderness.
    Ive missed being here, its good being back,
    Although being forced back into the
    Digi world was unwelcome, here I is back in it.

    Lots of love, be strong and upright for the people
    Around you to be supported by.

    Andy

  • June 24, 2019 - 1:13pm
    mhammond12
    Joined:
    September 15, 2009
    Thanks for that. Really hit…

    Thanks for that. Really hit home with a lot of stuff I've been going through. Now pass the Kleenex box please.

  • June 21, 2019 - 11:38am
    slo lettuce
    Joined:
    July 20, 2012
    Dear Dennis

    Made me cry like a baby too. Beautifully written life experience.
    And Congratulations on your 40 yrs with your loved one! That's no small feat.

    Take care
    Joe

  • June 21, 2019 - 6:47am
    Dennis
    Joined:
    November 1, 2012
    Slo Lettuce - Bangin' Away

    Hey Man, kiss off. First thing in the morning, not even a cup of coffee in me and now you got me crying like a baby. I don't need this.

    Thanks, that was really nice. Very true. This September will mark 40 years with my wife. Talk about a long strange trip :-)

  • June 20, 2019 - 5:14pm
    slo lettuce
    Joined:
    July 20, 2012
    Making Love

    Not a poem, but beautiful nonetheless:

    In the seventies, you and I called it "having sex" or just "doing it," and we did it wherever and whenever we could: in the shower, on an air mattress in a tent, in saggy beds in cheap motels.
    Somewhere in the eighties it became making love. Our honeymoon lovemaking was the best ever: in a real bed with no one to interrupt us. We were going to do this forever. In the nineties we did it on a schedule: calendars and thermometers and keeping track. After the babies, making love meant keeping promises. It was as routine as you putting on the suit and tie and shaving every morning, and me doing laundry and having dinner on the table every night.
    The babies grew up and left home.
    After 2005 making love was you saying I was beautiful even though I was vomiting and bald, and my skin was gray.
    In 2008 it was your turn. Sex was out of the question. Making love was me changing dressings and cleaning the drainage tubes as gently as I could.
    By 2012 making love was just this:
    lying beside you, our hands touching knuckle to knuckle;
    smiling and crying; letting the morphine do its job;
    saying good-bye.

    - T.M.

  • August 25, 2018 - 8:34am
    Orian Dylencia
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    May 28, 2015
    A New, Clear, Holy Cause?
    Pompeo erupted when told to hit the road. Korea will be m*a*s*h*d if Trump unlocks and unloads.
  • August 22, 2018 - 1:52pm
    Orian Dylencia
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    May 28, 2015
    Feel For The Refugee (continued)
    Empathy is not pathologicalAs refugees run from the gangster’s wrath They support an aging demographical So immigration is a logical path. There’s a cost to Costa Rica When hunger hounds El Salvador Where’s the salvation for Guatemala In the clamor for our vice amor. We once beckoned with a beacon Now we behave so insecure When we grow older and weaken We will have wished more help were here. Our history has an oft whited bend As the land turns a little more brown Once natives were bled and branded red men But that’s past dark for those northern bound.
  • August 16, 2018 - 3:38am
    Orian Dylencia
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    May 28, 2015
    Women Rule
    Sadat with Begin and Gandhi ‘fore KingNations lost foundations to peace building But harmony isn’t how we or the world sing And blood’s still gushing like hot water springs. Bet on wise women for peace to have a chance Before the puppet does his shadow dance They addressed advantaged deviants’ advances Now give them a hand so each life enhances. Denigrated and denied for far too long Women aren’t playing good old boy songs Deeming to undo what the men did wrong Because man’s fighting unless doing bongs. Today’s woman will bring this cabal to tears Sweeping in souring deals ‘til the swamp clears Fair ladies will help to rebuff four gone years With a peace from justice and the touch to fear.
  • August 13, 2018 - 1:06pm
    DanielSpace
    Joined:
    August 13, 2018
    )
    All true - immigrants are not the enemy.
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Been praying for the people of the middle-eastWho want to live in freedom, want to live in peace And not just there but everywhere People getting tired of a world that's run by clowns Taking all the money, but soon they're going down Maybe we'll build a world that shares Time to come together, time to take a stand Time to lay the cards down, time to play your hand The winds of "change" are in the air Don't know what to do? Just wing it Don't care what you wear, just bring it Write a song of Hope and sing it Grab that Freedom Bell and ring it
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Are you the next Bob Dylan? You should get your ass to Madison right now and hand that out, sing it or play it, whatever man -- get it out there! Howl on dude!
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He blesses the boys as they stand in lineThe smell of gun grease and their bayonets they shine He's there to help them all that he can To make them feel wanted he's a good holy man Sky pilot.....sky pilot How high can you fly You'll never, never, ever reach the sky He smiles at the young soldiers Tells them its all right He knows of their fear in the forthcoming fight Soon there'll be blood and many will die Mothers and fathers back home they will cry Sky pilot.....sky pilot How high can you fly You'll never, never, ever reach the sky He mumbles a prayer and it ends with a smile The order is given They move down the line But he'll stay behind and he'll meditate But it won't stop the bleeding or ease the hate As the young men move out into the battle zone He feels good, with God you're never alone He feels so tired and he lays on his bed Hopes the men will find courage in the words that he said Sky pilot.....sky Pilot How high can you fly You'll never, never, ever reach the sky You're soldiers of God, you must understand The fate of your country is in your young hands May God give you strength Do your job real well If it all was worth it Only time it will tell In the morning they return With tears in their eyes The stench of death drifts up to the skies A young soldier so ill looks at the sky pilot Remembers the words: "Thou shalt not kill" Sky pilot.....sky pilot How high can you fly You never, never, ever reach the sky
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but I can't play harmonica, and he's a much better singer than me, writer too. But I try.
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Time Miner3/6/11 One night the Panther came to me As I lay beneath the trees A predator both wild and free One pounce would be the end of me I got up on my knees Then time began to freeze There was a meeting of the minds That left me feeling hypnotized His eyes were pools of liquid gold I felt a spirit, very old A warrior from ancient lands Who said, "you soon will understand" At first my ears began to ring Then my head began to spin Next thing I know we'd left the ground And drifted up inside a cloud In this cloud visions appeared While from the distance something neared I heard the ticking of a clock And what I saw left me in shock There was a clock that had no hands An hourglass that had no sands I checked its face and wondered "how?" The only thing it said was "now" chorus Now - it's a train at the station Now - like the dawn of creation Now - it's a liberation Of universal mind Vision gone, we'd left the skies Still staring into Panther's eyes The Panther turned and walked away "Thank you my friend" was all I'd say Now - it's a train at the station Now - like the dawn of creation Now - it's a liberation Of universal mind
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Crystal Blue Persuasion Eddie Gray, Tommy James, Mike Vale Look over yonder what do you see? The sun is a'rising most definitely A new day is coming people are changing Ain't it beautiful crystal blue persuasion Better get ready gonna see the light Love, love is the answer and that's all right So don't you give up now so easy to find Just look to your soul and open your mind Crystal blue persuasion mm-hmm It's a new vibration Crystal blue persuasion, crystal ... blue persuasion Maybe tomorrow when He looks down On every green field and every town All of his children and every nation They'll be peace and good brotherhood Crystal blue persuasion Crystal blue persuasion Crystal blue persuasion Crystal blue persuasion http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crystal_Blue_Persuasion
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I was at a partyat the JK school of disembodied poets while listening to Allen bewail my lady friend with an impromptu about her 'strawberries'; His girl groupies were massaging his torso, yes, his guy groupies were more notable but he did have his girl groupies too, and it all became a little nauseating for me; Nanao was nowhere to be seen, he could always be counted on to break up such scenes with his armpit farting noises and silly jokes, but not tonight; so I found my way out back onto the back porch, looking out the back side of the 'mall' street. I sat there, waiting for the 'star' clustering to subside, when who should join me out there but Ken himself. I was a bit shocked when he started to talk to me, and then as we talked about our favorite Boulder folk, my tai-chi teachers, Jane and Bataan, he began to pace back and forth on the porch much like a caged tiger, as he told me about this and that, and some about the other thing. I pinched myself a couple times, as he paced back and forth in the rhythm of his rhyme, it all fell in to place of, hey! I shut up, I wasn't going to do anything to shorten this moment, Ken walking back and forth like Neal on the railroad tracks. We liked the same things and the same people, so we continued on for about a half an hour, until the scene inside was less off-putting, then we went back to the party. Ken was a very sweet man, and had no pretense out there on the porch, we shared a moment, that I still carry with me today. Ken and Babbs, and the buttons on the table. It was the summer of '79.
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1 A simple conclusion brings us back to the beginning.Internalized reflection ridicules our mirrored accusations. Disturbed with regret, transparent resentment. What's better off left unsaid, hides in a sigh outside our selves. Difficult acceptance these shadows of seclusion, impressions reward a tear of solitude. There's nothing to be done, disappointed with the secret neither of us need to keep. Not the one who gave up, not the one who destroyed the dream. Because it's so, confuse the silence, silence is being poured from cup to cup. A Simple conversation leaves us guessing at the lessons of the heart. Do these after-thoughts resist the angry. Remember what happened to yesterdays' promise? To believe in something you must to trust someone. It's time to realize, everyday we're the same people we are. Reason the chance to compromise, forgive, and understand. A sense, at eye level it's easier to ignore then to look away. Playing a game of one rule contradictions, fairness my love, fairness, let go, break free. -------------------------- 2 We're the first to see the earth from the moon. From above we can see the world in its proper context. Now we know how the planet suffers and how its inhabitants response. Reach across the limitations lifting each other out of uncertainty. Globally we can embrace the similarities through out humanity. And understand how extremism reaps only destruction. We are the keepers the seas, are we the masters of the atmosphere? We become as one with the fields, turning hard clay into productive soil. The world works better when it works together. The earth moves closer as dignity breaks the chains. The globe is nature, as are the dreams of sentient creatures. The planet yields its nourishment fulfilling the intent of the seed and seasons'.
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clown patrol shooting bullets in the air well aware there's no one there it's just to scare you and if they say you are too scared they really think you're not scared enough to do anything. dropping water onto steam looks like another dead clown dream wearing carboard fire trucks around their wastes it's nothing you can taste; anyone feel like expendable guinea pigs yet? to the clowns you are and always have been. clowns lie until they believe it themselves now it is only you left to convince have confidence be reassured the clowns paint another face and prop another dictator into place; the effects of the fear are equal to the rays no fly zones and bare bones there's another set of clown faces waiting to sell you free energy just keep on with the party there's nothing left to see here. busses packed with teary eyes finally seeing through the lies but there is nothing but clowns enough clowns to go around it looks like a circus of the absurd drop a bucket here spray a hose there send a bomb down there does anybody really care no clowns here what you talking about clowns when some grows a pair enuogh to tell the truth you might ought to stand clear of the clowns slowing down the nightmare to a clowns crawl divert attention here put a few bombs there does that make you feel better there's enough clowns to go around now tell another silly joke that will make it better sometimes you just gotta laugh at the clowns
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Nice piece, free idea. Well put. Best thing you've done in a while. The sad thing is the clowns would be even funnier if they weren't so utterly laughable to begin with. Looks like the circus is back in town. Three ringy-dingies coming to a socio-political, environmental or economic crisis near you. Conversation is always more interesting than recitation, so speak your mind and not someone else's.
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Isn't it rich?Are we are a pair? Me here at last on the ground. You in mid-air... Where are the clowns, Isn't it bliss? Don'y you approve? One who keeps tearing around, One who can't move. Where are the clowns? Send in the clowns. Don't you love farce?
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Your comments mean a lot to me, always. It was 51 weeks ago that they CT'ed two renal calculi, one XXXL, and that and the years supply of dilaudid they provided, not only turned me into a legal junkie, but one hell of a grouch. I kindof stopped posting my poems when I noticed the severe grouchiness in them, no need to spread that aruond. I guess it was the 1st week of Jan that I decided I hated the junk worse than the pain, and the first week of March that I became 'stone free'. Still straightening up me thoughts, but feeling groovy again. At least for me junk=death to creativity. Big shoutout to the fukushima workers, putting themselves within range to try and stem the 'rad' flow. And thanks to this community, and the poets therein, you folks were a suorce of joy to me, whenever I checked in on this site. Oh yeah, and thanks to the PTB, for the month of 'Dead giveaways' in Dec., just listened to them on my phone yesterday, what a great gift!!!! Deadheads are the greatest! "why am I laughing, sure ain't funny' Picasso Moon "what's that?" "It's JUNK!"- William Burroughs (from PBS documentary) now back to the poetry......
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it's a perfect illusionwe have constructed out of atoms and such everybody in their own box with a strong lock from which to watch the wars who do we bomb first gadfly or mangosheen who ever has the oil we decided is key the wars will be fought over the 'energy' we 'need' a race against time in eternity locked in our boxes we will have lots of electricity to watch it on tv talk to each other and download ecstasy what else do you need so the armies of dark will continue to feed on the last little fishies and the rest of the trees what else do you need one spin is one day one revolution a year divide it up into parcels where did I put infinity no room for reality in my perfect samsara fueled by lsd as long as there is music leave me to be in this perfect illusion what do you need?
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Goodbye Cruel World/Hello Kind World Gonna slip into my happy feet and slide on out the door. It's the thirteenth Thursday of who knows when And I don't care no more. What job? What bills? What chores to do? I'm leaving them behind. My calendar's just an empty page And that suits me just fine. Gonna dance until the cows come home. Gonna rage until I drop. Then dust myself right off again And climb right back on top. Holes in my clothes and holes in my shoes But there's a hole in the crowd up ahead. That's my dance space so watch my face Get stole right off my head. Get somebody else to punch your clock. I'm done with that. It ain't where it's at. I don't care if the lawn isn't mowed. I'm just living on the road. ~~~~~~~~~~ leads Get somebody else to punch your clock. I'm done with that. It ain't where it's at. I don't care if the lawn isn't mowed. I'm just living on the road. Twist and twirl from show to show Smiling and living free. Eat what I can now and then I'm busy just being me. Couldn't tell you what time it is Got no watch or keys. But I always know when the show is on And that's where you'll find me. And that's where you'll find me. Conversation is always more interesting than recitation, so speak your mind and not someone else's.
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it's cabin fever time again the moon is shouting through my window reflecting off the last of the snow oh wait, here comes some more just try and stop me if you think I've told this one before I drink the koolaid and melt outside my door into the sanded mountain plain what's that ungodly roar? then a loud crash and the sound of dragging metal I retreat further into the trees but there's no getting away from it the roar the crash the dragging metal sound after an hour or more I creep to the road my curiosity getting the better of my good sense oh it's just the ripton boys taking out the green impala papa gave them to work on they jump in behind the wheel and do it all again rev up the engine until it sounds like an f-15 then throw it into gear and go for a ride it's like a crazy sled with no steering and within a hundred feet they veer off the road and smash again into the century old stone wall just like the times before with a mighty crash they pile it atop the old stones until it won't go any more then they jump out drag it off the wall push it back to the road laughing all the while and do it again it brings me back to when I lived in the cabin across the street built before it was a road so about ten feet from the tar one night about midnight I was sitting up listening to the mosquitoes and rolling a bone when I heard a clop clop clop thud! pause.... clop clop clop thud! it took about an hour to get close enough for me to peek out and see it was my very soused neighbor from on down the road I easked him what was up he said "I'm going to the store to get some more beer" When I told him what time it was and that the store had been closed for hours it became apparent that he had left many hours before; I figured he would get there by morning anyway, asked him if he needed anything, he said "no", and was off. he got back on his horse, which took two steps, "clop, clop", then he fell off on his head "thud", the horse stopped and waited for him to remount. and on down the road he went clop, clop, clop thud!...pause clop, clop, clop thud!....pause what a good horse! dont need no chiba when cabin fever rolls around everybody laughing oh what a sound riding my horsie down the mountain into town
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Bennie Benjamin/Sol Marcus/Horace Ott Baby, do you understand me now Sometimes I feel a little mad But don't you know that no one alive Can always be an angel When things go wrong I seem to be bad But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood Baby, sometimes I'm so carefree With a joy that's hard to hide And sometimes it seems that all I have do is worry Then you're bound to see my other side But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood If I seem edgy I want you to know That I never mean to take it out on you Life has it's problems and I get my share And that's one thing I never meant to do Because I love you Oh, Oh baby don't you know I'm human Have thoughts like any other one Sometimes I find myself long regretting Some foolish thing some little simple thing I've done But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood Yes, I'm just a soul whose intentions are good Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood Yes, I'm just a soul whose intentions are good Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood
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radiating loveon my street peace falls like rain upon my feet love is shining from the food I eat taking care right where I am heart beat what I am has no need to breathe without fear I remain awake
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ostrich osalot - hen ren zebra collie - turky bass turtle - snail frog beaver slug - otter raindeer - yew knew - fliminco jackal - owl ram zebra collie - turkey bass turtle - ostrich osalot - feest folk fade away...*
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=[On the bal~anus bm yore lurid shhis the poop of raw~ham yore lurd shhits the poop of raw~ham yor lurid shitts ~ stool`ho train}<(`-=-==-=
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the sun rises slowover the fukushima-daichi nuclear power plant a mother reaches for her crying baby wondering what to give him to eat
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"Twas a winters night with Christmas in sitenothing but joy filling the air. For the Cosmic Clowns were coming to our town and they were bringing their magical lire. I knew we were in for a treat so to speak, but knew nothing of our fate, But on 12/12/90 I was turning 28. Now you would never know what you would see at a show, It could have easily been another night The Star hadn't crashed here in many a year But there was a chance that it might The first few notes after 'Jac-a-moe-fino' The center of the universe seemed to change. It was the good old Dead, playing Dark Star live. with the sounds they has arranged Those beautiful, transcedental notes that had been writen on my head were for the first time being played before me. God! I Love The Grateful Dead! So thanks Boys for one of the best nights of my life. I wish I could repay. It won't do it justice, but I'll tell you right now, That show Fucking blew me away"
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One afternoon I was drinking port on a porch in Portugal with a Buddha who was visiting from Budapestwhen I saw a seagull leave it's nest and fly towards the sea. "did you see that," I asked "no" the Buddha replied what did you see? I said I saw a gull leave its nest and fly towards the sea. And what will happen next was anyone guess the Buddha from Budapest said Let's play a guessing game and ask our guests' to guess what's to happen next. All this was happening while watching a gull leave it's nest while drinking port on a porch in Portugal with a Buddha from Budapest. II One night me and my friends were driving down Bond street looking for a Bail bondsmen to post James 007 Bonds Bail. I was drinking Asti Spumante with Austin Powers, Monty Hall and Dean Martin in the backseat of his Aston Martin DB5. We were looking for a pawn shop to pawn Austin Powers Martin D-28 for 28 hundred dollars. We found a pawn shop then we found a bail bondsmen then we went to the jail to post James Bonds bail bond. When we got there no one knew who we where asking for, for he used a different identity and had already escaped. When we returned home he was all ready there shaking Martinis' and playing a Martin DB5 that he found in a pawn store next to a bail bondsmen shop on Bond street "I though I saw you guys" he said, " yea that was us" we said We were driving down Bond street looking for a Bail bondsmen to post James 007 Bonds Bail. Looking for a pawn shop so we could pawn Austin Powers, Martin D-28 for 28 hundred dollars. So we could post a bond and pay James Bonds Bail so as to not to spend him spend the night in jail. Drinking Asti Spumante with Austin Powers, Monty Hall and Dean Martin in the backseat of Aston Martin DB5.
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SpinachMilk Evacuation Zone 10,000,000 curies Homer Simpson forgot to check The emergency batteries for 11 years
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Current news itemsallow editorial control over art? Conversation is always more interesting than recitation, so speak your mind and not someone else's.
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The world constructs us As we constitute the world (Lather rinse repeat)
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We are not photonicWe are other Like black absent white Not distinctly lit Nor similar We seem as though you are
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=-=[Kuntfilturdpeesh seas]}<(`-=-=--=-[Poop of rom on main schevetz]}<(`-=-==-=-[Hey Rent taco tex]}<(`-=-==-=-=
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What the New Virgin Said to the Old Goat —for Henry Miller Don't get me started on how your writing (like lightning electrified Ben Franklin) lit my once extinguished wick, igniting long strings of sensations, then life sank in. No, don't let me tell how your purple prose (banned for decency's sake in fifty states) ripped my sense and resurrected a rose, which was propagated in Tropic's straits. And please don't fret me about hustling dough (not true grift, just soft fleece to foot a bill) as if only one of us came to know the poverty of the verb to fulfill. Now each day I live as art to master what once had been a fucking disaster.
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Hurried to TunisiaGrabbed that plane Landed in London Khadaffy picked lamb from between his teeth
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=-=[`/`/HY HIT TIZ JOY US CHILL IN HELD EARZ}<(`-=-=-=[DEE FEET US MASSA BAY IT LA TERD}-=-=-==-=-=....this is for the tea~partay on the reefer guitar star wheel AXIS varios strata..~~~800 or so dancing girls on segwayz rigged with foam paint shakers up front and a butt shaker exersize belts and able to flip over with corn~shitz fountain of corn spraying out..banging their heads on the ground for the /\/\cameltokenz toupee phone ` fire at the open gentle, them useing 'T'shape turdz to pry feetus slathering spinning swastikr turdz hitting golf , tennis ,ping pong ,etc.spot on for the /\/\enu~shitwhattsikkzz (chain of fast food~Feest Folk Meel Mode) ,/\/\. in front of the huge buttox shaped hill behiend the Hippo zepher ,guitar shape reef looking up at the /\/\ ^ ..calm honest merkin burg~toy /\/\nteapython`esk etc... candle light vid~ [Feest~Folk~Meel Mode}<(`- '
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Ty Cobb eats corn on the cob like a slob.Named in the Hall of Fame as the greatest outfielder, an all American leader. It was the bottom of ninth, the score tied. When a towering pop fly, soared into the sky. In sight in step Ty went to catch the ball when something went terribly wrong. What's that smell the drunks in the bleachers yelled. Where'd it come from, was it you, it wasn't me they argued angrily. It curled their noses most unpleasantly. Ty Cobb dropped a pop fly who on earth could answer why? The winning run crossed the plate was it an error in judgement, played out his fate. When the equpiment manager had to wash his pants. That's when the rumor started, thats how the truth came to past. Ty Cobb dropped the ball, because he farted corn. They say it sounded like a bull horn. Did you poop in your pants? the reporter asked. "I just misplayed the ball, you can't blame me at all"
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Lyrics By: Bob DylanMusic By: Bob Dylan They're selling postcards of the hanging They're painting the passports brown The beauty parlor's filled with sailors The circus is in town In walks the blind commissioner They've got him in a trance One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker The other is in his pants And the riot squad they're restless They need somewhere to go As Lady and I look out tonight From Desolation Row Now Cinderella, she seems so easy "It takes one to know one," she smiles And puts her hands in her back pockets Bette Davis style And in walks Romeo, he's moaning "You belong to me I believe" And someone says, "You're in the wrong place, my friend (note 1) You better leave" And the only sound that you can hear After the ambulances go Is Cinderella sweeping up On Desolation Row Now Ophelia, she's neath the window For her I feel so afraid On her twenty-second birthday She already is an old maid To her, death is quite romantic She wears an iron vest Her profession's her religion Her sin is her lifelessness And though her gaze is fixed upon Noah's great rainbow She spend her time peeking in On Desolation Row Einstein disguised as Robin Hood With his memories in a trunk Passed this way an hour ago With his friend, a jealous monk He looked so immaculately frightful As he bummed a cigarette Then he went off sniffing drainpipes And reciting the alphabet Now you would not think to look at him But he was famous long ago For playing the electric violin On Desolation Row Now the moon is almost hidden (note 2) The stars are beginning to hide The fortune telling lady Has already taken all her things inside All except for Cain and Abel And the hunchback of Notre Dame Everybody is making love Or else expecting rain And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing He's getting ready for the show He's going to the carnival tonight On Desolation Row Doctor Filth, he keeps his world Inside of a leather cup And all his sexless patients They're all trying to blow it up Now his nurse, some local loser She's in charge of the cyanide hole And she also keeps the cards that read "Have mercy on his soul" They all play on the penny whistle You can hear them blow If you lean your head out far enough On Desolation Row Across the street they've nailed the curtains They're getting ready for the feast The Phantom of the Opera In the perfect image of a priest They're spoonfeeding Casanova To get him to feel more assured Then they'll kill him with self-confidence After poisoning him with words And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls "Get out of here if you don't know" Casanova is just being punished for going To Desolation Row Now at midnight all the agents And the superhuman crew They go and round up everyone That knows more than they do They take them to the facory Where the heart attack machine Is strapped across their shoulders And then the kerosene Is brought down from the castles By insurance men who go Make sure nobody is escaping To Desolation Row Praise be to Nero's Neptune The Titanic sails at dawn Everybody's shouting "Which side are you on?" And Ezra Pound and T.S.Eliot They're fighting in the captain's tower While calypso singers laugh at them And fishermen throw flowers Between the windows of the sea Where lovely mermaids flow And no one has to think too much About Desolation Row Yes I received your letter yesterday About the time the doorknob broke When you asked how I was doing Was that some kind of joke? All these people that you mentioned Yes I know them they're quite lame I had to rearrange their faces And give them all another name Right now I can't read so good Don't send me no more letters, no Not unless you mail them From Desolation Row Played by Bob Weir with the Grateful Dead from the mid-1980s, as well as with Ratdog and Weir/Wasserman. (1) this line is as Weir sings it (and as on the 'official' Dylan lyrics). But I recently heard Chris Smither do a great (if truncated) version where he sang "... you're in the wrong play my friend" which is a great variant. (2) Bob Weir misses out this verse on the version on "Postcards Of The Hanging." He includes it on the version on "Downhill From Here" - but note that in the original Dylan version it's the third verse not the fifth. Thanks to Tim Cahalane for clearing this up for me.
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Searching for answers, Of how we lost our way, Forgot how to play, You open a door, And at the end of the hall, There stands a ten foot wall. As you approach, You become blinded for a few, Your nostrils become filled with the scent of dew, When you listen for an all unforgettable tune, You flash back to old days, Filled with wondrous haze, With loved ones and praise, You awake on the shores of that black muddy river, And realize, He’s come to take his children home.
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Rolling Stones Back to zero So you wanna blow us all to pieces Go meet your maker, head hung down And give him all your explanations Go ahead, throw down Back to zero, back to nothing Straight to meltdown, back to zero That's where we're heading It's a monkey living on my back I can feel my spine begin to crack I'm looking to the future I keep on glancing back I prefer to rot I don't want to pop [ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/r/rolling_stones/back_to_zero.html ] I think I'll head back to the jungle, alright Don't want to see no big bad rumble, too fright Back to zero, that's where we're going Back to nothing, right now, right now No heroes? No more heroes Back to meltdown That's where I'm going, back to zero My whole life is hanging on a thread I'm the fly inside the spider's web I'm looking to the future I keep on glancing back I prefer to rot I don't want to pop I worry about my great grandchildren Living ten miles beneath the ground I worry about their whole existence The whole damn thing's in doubt Back to zero, that's where we're going Back to nothing, that's where we're heading Straight to meltdown, that's where we're going Back to zero, right now, right now We're going nowhere Right now, right now Back to zero, that's where we're heading Back to zero
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Rolling Stones Well, when you're sitting there In your silk upholstered chair Talking to some rich folks that you know Well I hope you won't see me In my ragged company You know I could never be alone Take me down little Susie, take me down I know you think you're the Queen of the Underground And you can send me dead flowers every morning Send me dead flower by the mail Send me dead flowers to my wedding And I won't forget to put roses on your grave Well, you're sitting back In your rose pink Cadillac Making bets on Kentucky Derby Day I'll be in my basement room With a needle and a spoon And another girl can take my pain away Take me down little Susie, take me down I know you think you're the Queen of the Underground And you can send me dead flowers every morning Send me dead flower by the mail Send me dead flowers to my wedding And I won't forget to put roses on your grave Take me down little Susie, take me down I know you think you're the Queen of the Underground And you can send me dead flowers every morning Send me dead flower by the US mail Say it with dead flowers at my wedding And I won't forget to put roses on your grave No I won't forget to put roses on your grave
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By: Lou Reed They say he didn't have an enemy his was a greatness to behold He was the last surviving progeny the last one on this side of the world He measured a half mile from tip to tail silver and black with powerful fins They say he could split a mountain in two that's how we got the Grand Canyon Last great American whale last great American whale Last great American whale last great American whale Some say they saw him at the Great Lakes some say they saw him off of Florida My mother said she saw him in Chinatown but you can't always trust your mother Off the Carolinas the sun shines brightly in the day the lighthouse glows ghostly there at night The chief of a local tribe had killed a racist mayor's son and he'd been on death row since 1958 The mayor's kid was a rowdy pig spit on Indians and lots worse The old chief buried a hatchet in his head life compared to death for him seemed worse The tribal brothers gathered in the lighthouse to sing and tried to conjure up a storm or rain The harbor parted, the great whale sprang full up and caused a hugh tidal wave The wave crushed the jail and freed the chief the tribe let out a roar The whites were drowned, the browns and reds set free but sadly one thing more Some local yokel member of the NRA kept a bazooka in his living room And thinking he had the chief in his sight blew the whale's brains out with a lead harpoon Last great American whale last great American whale Last great American whale last great American whale Well Americans don't care for much of anything land and water the least And animal life is low on the totem pole with human life not worth more than infected yeast Americans don't care too much for beauty they'll shit in a river, dump battery acid in a stream They'll watch dead rats wash up on the beach and complain if they can't swim They say things are done for the majority don't believe half of what you see and none of what you hear It's like what my painter friend Donald said to me "Stick a fork in their ass and turn them over, they're done" Send "Last Great American Whale" Ringtone to your Cell
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Talking heads on TVProfessors in Ivory Towers Deadheads going to Furthur Prisoners hanging with gangs Junior High students snortin' heroin Narcissistic social media fanatics Politicians (less than nothing) Ban Kyi Moon & the whole UN Gangsters on Federal Hill People wasting time playing video With a few exceptions It's quite depressing a truly twisted species slicing and dicing their own planet Then creating better weapons To defend or keep the spoils Amidst overflowing paranoia. A cruel heart won't share But hires some soldiers to guard the parapet That is always over-run And in between they talk about nothing
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Sitting comfortably,Look quietly at mind and other, in 20 minute segments. A last piece of incense ash falls.
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On the open seatwo freighters approach passing almost silently Two sailors wave
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Creedendence Who will take the coal from the mine? Who will take the salt from the Earth? Who will take a leaf and grow it to a tree? Don't look now, it ain't you or me. Who will work the field with his hands? Who will put his back to the plough? Who'll take the mountain and give it to the sea? Don't look now, it ain't you or me. Don't look now, someone's done your starving Some one's done your praying, too. Who will make the shoes for your feet? Who ill make the clothes that you wear? Who'll take the promise that you don't have to keep? Chorus Who'll take the coals from the mines. .
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Just last eveningSun at our backs Rain on our heads Black, black clouds in the east No wind, an eerie calm Despite the Drum, drum, drum Of rain on the roof Our eyes on the black horizon, Then back to the screen With its swirling blues and yellows and reds The weather woman waves her hands Over the swirls Warning those in harm’s way Conjuring, talking, talking, talking Talking the storm away Mojo working this day No funnels kissed the earth Safe
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It was very scary there for a while, especially if you were in a lethal trianlgle. Even the plane going cross-country for me this week-end wouldn't turn the seat-belt signs off after Chicago.... anyway, glad your family is safe and sound.
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In the absence of an Answer we wait for the truth We move toward new moments reaching for the unknown Then within the realms of what we see... and of that which we hope to envision There is strength Do we look for what was lost - amidst the throngs of people? Humanity reaches toward promise hands together... as hearts and minds continue the journey Together, never truly alone...the answer will arrive
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The writing on the wallWill be the only proof That I was never here at all