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Keep Waiting for Me BluesWill you keep waiting for me, baby? I hope that you will.
You know that I have had some trouble, but I will get to you still.
Winter caught me in the north, babe, when it was forty-three below.
I would have come when you called me, but there was no way to go.
Springtime saw me on a mission to a place I cannot tell.
I pushed peace where there was war, babe, but in the end it went to hell.
In the summer I was sailing, on a boat I named for you.
But a typhoon and a reef, babe, broke my little boat in two.
In the fall I saw my doctor, who said I needed surgery.
They took stuff out and put stuff in, babe, it took time recovering.
I've been through winter, war and shipwreck, I have been through surgery.
And I am coming back to you, babe - I hope you're waiting for me.
Trouble is King BluesWhen I woke up this morning, everything was just the same.
Yes, I woke this morning and everything was the same.
If this world has a king, babe, trouble is his name.
His throne may be hidden, but his rule is plain to see.
That old throne may be hidden, but his rule is plain to see.
Look what he's done to you, babe, look what he's done to me.
But you know a small rebellion is possible sometimes.
Oh, you know a small rebellion is possible sometimes.
Come over here to me, babe, and put your hand in mine.
You and I can be together, in an hour of our own.
Well, we can be together, in an hour of our own.
We will be the only rulers, and kick trouble off the throne.
Another Red Devil
A red devil was drowning,
I guess it forgot
that people can drown
and devils cannot.
I jumped in to help,
I don't know what for.
I swam to the devil
and pulled it to shore.
"Thank you," said the devil,
as we dried in the sun.
"How shall I repay you
for what you have done?"
And I said "Don't worry,
it's nothing at all.
If I need something someday,
I will give you a call."
How long have I been moving in this circle? A while.
You must admit I go round it with style.
How often do I find again the place where I began? It depends.
I change my pace, go fast or slow. The circle never ends.
Although each time I return I am not sure,
not certain, that it is the same place at all.
Then is it truly a circle, in which I go? Yes. No.
Clean-Shaven Politician BluesLook at all those talking men, babe,
with their nicely shaven jaws.
You know they never break the law, babe,
because they write the laws.
I've been writing since last year, babe,
and I wrote this morning too.
But I cannot write the law, babe -
I just do what I can do.
You know what this world is made of -
it is five parts fantasy.
Fantasy may taste like ashes,
or it may be honey sweet.
I hear burning, I hear ashes,
from those men with pretty jaws.
I see a world so full of trouble,
and I believe I know the cause.
Look at all those talking men, babe,
all the ones who are in charge.
They think that nothing ever changes -
but then sometimes it does.
Following My Shadow BluesMy shadow's moving down the road, so I must be moving too.
The sun is at my back, the sky above is blue.
You know some things have gone bad, and I have to walk away.
They may catch up with me tomorrow, but I'm ahead of them today.
When a dog comes running at me, I do not make a fuss.
I quietly say, "Go home now," and that is what it does.
I am headed for the border, with every document I need.
I wrote some of them myself, and did a careful job indeed.
By this time next Tuesday I should be standing by the sea.
I will wade in the water and feel the waves washing me.
My shadow's moving down the road, but it cannot sing a song.
I'm singing for the two of us, and moving right along.
Licensed BluesI have a license to drive, babe, but I won't be driving for a while.
I have a license to drive, but I won't be driving for a while.
You can be the driver - I'll sit beside you and smile.
I have a license to walk, babe, though I may use a cane.
I have a license to walk, though I may use a cane.
I go a little slower but I get there just the same.
I have a license to think, babe, the kind that's hard to find today.
I have a license to think, the kind that's hard to find today.
I got it in the old school and never let anyone take it away.
I have a license to sing, babe, and I have a voice.
I have a license to sing, and I have a voice.
Well, singing the blues can be a beautiful noise.
I have a license to love, babe, the kind the comes in a set of two.
I have a license to love, the kind the comes in a set of two.
You have the one that matches mine, and I'm so glad you do.
TowerYear after year the tower rises higher.
It is taller now than it had been dreamed
it could be before it was begun. To those
who live in its top the earth on which the tower
stands is as real and as remote as the moon,
though without the earth and those who live on it
there would be no tower. Every year it rises higher.
RepairI wanted the poem to appear on the screen
but it would not. I looked around and found
the poem doing pushups in the bedroom.
Thirty years ago the poem was on its way
home from work when blank verse coming
the other way swerved in front of it, no
avoiding the collision. One of the poem's
meters fractured and fixing it did permanent
damage to the use of one foot. For thirty
years the poem has been able to walk but
not run, and now it can hardly even walk.
Its enjambment is worn out. Line is meeting
line with nothing in between. So the limping
poem will have an enjambment of metal
and plastic put in place of the worn-out one.
Upper body strength will help when it wakes
after the procedure and has to go down
the page putting weight on a quatrain.
Hence the pushups. It will never run as it did
when it was first written, but it should
walk with no limp. If it does not try to run
you will read the poem and not know a thing
was ever wrong - the poem will be good.
Love Song for DagmarShes a glutton, shes no kitten; she can stuff her face for Britain
See her sitting in her Citroen, you can spot her from afar.
She is buxom, she is brazen, see her bottom, its amazing,
She is straining at the straplets of her cantilevered bra.
Shes an airship, shes a trawler, still I worship and adore her
Shes a randy landslide riding in her flash French car.
As a goddess, shes the oddest, and shes vulgar and immodest
Shes the empress of breast, she is my sweet Dagmar.
Shes no figment, shes no fragment, shes a fat fridge magnet
and shes sticking like a limpet to that big white door.
You can like it, you can lump it, shes a slattern, shes a strumpet
You can fill her to the limit - shell come begging you for more.
I am smitten, sycophantic; in her panties shes gigantic
As Im straddled, panting, frantic on the pinewood pantry floor.
See her glorious posterior, imperious, superior -
He lays me down & spreads me out on his bed.
He tells me he wants to relieve my stress & help me rest my head.
He runs his fingers through my hair & he kisses my lips,
He takes away the tension by playing with me below my hips.
As my legs are up high in the air,
I feel like I have no worries or cares.
He plays me so hard I let out a slight yell,
& I wonder if something this good will put me in hell.
Some people told me I shouldn't try
Because all you do is make me cry
But I love you to much to let you go
I love you more then you think you know
You tell me that you just don't care
All those times I needed you there
to hold me when i hurt real bad
to dry my tears, and take my sad
you can't understand how i feel inside
when it was over, I just died
All I want is for you to see
is what you really mean to me
Ever since that horrible day
that i heard those words you had to say
I can't stop thinking about you
I want you to know all this is true
Everything you've read
is about the things you've said
I'll never, ever stop tryin'
But I am so sick of Cryin'
April's HouseThe man who would be my lover through April had a daughter.
I showed her Playboys from 1999 and she grabbed at my breasts.
In mid-April my lover's grandmother died in a Michigan hospital.
The night before we had hurried sex on a friend's floor and in his shower.
I lay naked on a dark blue couch watching B list horror movies
with names like Frankenhooker and drank carbonated strawberry wine.
The floor was covered in empty Bacardi bottles and powdered Cheetos
while the bathroom smelled of concentrated bleach and urine.
I could crawl out onto the flat tarry roof through a second story window.
On the fourth of July I sat on the functionless brick chimney and got high.
The roof in South Oakland always reminded me of Mary Poppins.
Vodka coursing through my blood, I danced like a chimney sweep.
A man with bleached hair and long nails filed to a point walked me home.
He said, Margaret, I want you, and I knew I had stayed in a house full of lies.
Can You Accept Me?Can You Accept Me?:
I'll admit I've done my share of things
Of which I know I can never be proud
And I've tried my best to be a better man;
But I guess I can't right now
The mistakes I've made are pretty clear to me
It's not like I can just wipe a 'tat'
The symbols that go all around my body;
And the numbers on my back...
They're all reminders of who I used to be
What I used to do and how I used to live
But that man just isn't me anymore;
And I need a chance that only you can give
I guess what I really want to say is that:
I'm trying my hardest to change for better
And I need to know that you can forgive me
And so I'm sending you this letter
If it gets to you, then let me know
Reply to me and tell me clear
Can we still be a family?
Can I hope to have you near?
We've been through hell and I know I've done wrong
I never should have stayed just an angry kid
And now that we have one of our own;
I think I know that I need to quit
So please just give me a second chance
In MemoriamAfter: I set on the walk to home,
By woodland paths; I paced, I paced
But then as the cloak of dark came down,
I nearing my old town- was not braced
For that image of moths, flickering blue-
I stumbled there; reminded of you.
So I spun on my heels in evening gloam,
By autumn leaves I raced, I raced
Away from the moments that rendered in silver,
Cast glamour on the forest face
And stabbed through the shimmer of early dew-
I could have died there, surrounded by you.
The Feelings That LingerThe Feelings That Linger:
The sound of your voice still lingers here
Even though I know you're gone...
And my nights have turned to sleepless days;
They grow worse with every dawn...
You've probably heard this story though
At least a thousand times or more.
But the thing I remember best about her
Is the sound of that closing door...
It was like the end to everything;
A cloud inside my head.
When I came awake on that final night;
I reached for her in bed-
But an empty space was all I got;
There was no one to wipe these tears.
I could scream and cry for many hours;
But it wouldn't chase my fears.
I tried so hard to tell myself
That everything would be alright.
But instead I ended up reminsicing
About her ever-present light...
I'm just so tired of everything;
I wish I didn't have to think...
But maybe you'll hear me one last time;
If I put this down in ink:
We had a life that was beautiful
KissYou don't need to put your hair up
To show you wear a crown
You don't need to paint your face up
To make my walls fall down
You don't need a Wonderbra
To let your sexy shine
You don't need gold or diamonds
To tell the world you're fine
You don't need designer clothes
To prove that you have class
You don't need to know Houdini
To make the magic last
All you need is your sweet love
To be the woman I dream of.
His Never-Wed BrideBriskly comes the bloody winter winds vent
Gray dusk looms over my shattered homestead
The crows caw makes known the warriors descent
Across the dying pasture, misted red
Glory, comes now my once sweetly adored!
Fighting brothers with valiant reluctance
His tender eyes shut, his breathing no more
His body lies stone-cold with stiffened stance
How well he fought for his country and lass
Like Prince Paris, fighting for what he claimed
Now laid ready for a still, somber mass
His face in my conscience forever famed
Gone is the restful warmth of his skin
Gone is the honey-like voice from his tongue
Yet, here he lays, surrounded by my kin
His bluing ears deaf to their praises sung
His eyes like mirrors reflect my despair
His hand is unresponsive to my grasp
Though I know his spirit now watches where
He can escape all maddened soldiers' clasps
Heavens bells peal, the seraphine choir sings
For he has joined the chorus of angels
I can nearly hear his pleasant voice ring
Breaths and silencesUnsleeping, Adam leaves the bed to take
a sedative, then slides back in. Eve's deep
breathing tells him that she did not wake.
He lies there thinking back upon the year
he lay awake and listened, wrapped in fear,
to make sure she was breathing, and how sleep
would tug him down; recalls how glad he was
to hear her snore. She is snoring gently now.
He thinks of wakeful nights he slept alone,
and then of all the lovers who have known
these breaths and silences; he'll write a poem.
He starts it in his head to pass the time.
He makes a line or two he wants to keep,
repeats them to himself as he falls asleep.
Crown of ThornsShe wakes up with red staining her pillow
and the taste of blood like iron in her mouth
It stains her teeth and leaks from her lips, and as she
rinses her mouth out, she can’t help thinking that
it’s better than dirt and ashes
it feels like she’s wearing a noose
of broken promises and shattered glass
that tightens around her throat with every day that passes
She nails a smile to her face
and doesn't let herself think the word dying
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More