Today's Verse: 20 May 2014

The law conserves all stains
Removed at home
They find their way to a better life
They find their way

The law preserves all pains
Endured at birth
They make their way forevermore
They make their way

Parse the debris
Parse the debris
I'm looking for something
It's looking for me

The law describes all vice
Forbidden in vain
It makes its way from vanity
It makes it's way

The law derives a price
Measured in blood
It leads the way from penury
It leads the way

Parse the debris
Parse the debris
I'm looking for something
It's looking for me

I won't be misled
By herrings of red
I won't be deceived
By visions that please
I'm not going to fall
For your foldearol
I'm telling you dear
And I'm telling you clear

The law exalts desire
Emboldened by need
It shows the way to eternal life
It shows the way

The law entails failure
To observe itself
A beacon of burning futility
A portal flung wide on a mystery
Empty, corrupt, and now you see
What I was looking for

The Hunter of Song

The Hunter of Song goes into the jungle
Armed only with his loin-cloth and knife
To battle the song right on its own turf
To pay, if he must, with his life
And once he has seized it, he looks in its face
He demands that it tell him its Name
And then, only then he returns to the world
His face glowing with the song’s flame

I do my songwriting
Without the sacrifice
I write my songs in comfort
With a cold drink over ice
All I ever do is
Doo-doo-doo-doo doo-doo
All I ever say is
Yay-yeah-yeah yeah-yeah-yay
All I ever do is
Doo-doo-doo-doo doo-doo-doo


The Sculptor of Song digs in the ground
For the one perfect rough stone
Once he has started, his chisel can’t rest
Until the song’s completely his own
The Priest of Song will not approach the Muse
Till he has been purified
Then he returns and sings till dawn
The Spirit now moving from inside

I do my songwriting
Without the sacrifice
I write my songs in comfort
With a cold drink over ice
All I ever do is
Doo-doo-doo-doo doo-doo
All I ever say is
Yay-yeah-yeah yeah-yeah-yay
All I ever do is
Doo-doo-doo-doo doo-doo-doo

I'm unable to write in the text box, can't figure out why

That's annoying.  Try using a different browser?  --JB

Summa Babalogicum

You show me my life through a prism
Of my own foolish narcissism
And tempt me to buy what isn’t
Anything but a false reflection
That pretty picture in the mirror
The songs that flatter every hearer
You say they will bring me nearer
To a made-up image of perfection

Please don’t try to tell me anything
Please don’t try to sell me anything
I’m not clientele, or anything
I’m alright doing pretty well

You want to sell me a rebellion
Free me up to be a hellion
It’s a bit too Machiavellian
Must I pay for my own prostitution?
Buy yourself some outlaw tattoos
You have but your chains to lose
And we can sell you matching shoes
Shopping is a form of revolution

Please don’t try to tell me anything
Please don’t try to sell me anything
I’m not clientele, or anything
I’m alright doing pretty well

Red team, blue team, same team, new team
Pictures of whatever you dream
Brand new colors, same old régime
Anyway, I know I’ll end up paying
Sorry, friend, you kind of lost me
All these slogans just exhaust me
Tell me what it’s going to cost me
So I can cheer the new flag we’re displaying

Please don’t try to tell me anything
Please don’t try to sell me anything
I’m not clientele, or anything
I’m alright doing pretty well

Happy birthday, dear Critter.  It is only with your eyes I see.

This Swelling of the Tide

Today I was talking to some people who work at the University of California, Riverside and I said by way of making conversation, I hope you're having nice sunny weather like we are up here in Oakland, which, of course they are, they're in southern California, and that's what the first woman said, she said oh yes it's very nice, it's sunny but it's also windy.  You know, the Santa Ana winds. And then the other woman said, Look at those palm trees bending over.  This is a true story, as best as I can remember it.

Unknown Unknowns

In the "Spheres of Influence" erotico-polical vein:


I saw Donald Rumsfeld
On a TV Show last night
That bastard may be crazy
But I've come to think he's right:

All knowledge is provisional, there is no fixed ideal
The world's just a construct that we pretend is real
Everything in love and war's just patterns in the swerve
There's nothing really true or false, just triumph of the nerve

Known unknowns
Unknown unknowns
There's no room for a demilitarized zone
Known unknowns
Unknown unknowns
All these unknown unknowns

The day I came into your house and made you my girl Friday
You fought and bit, but I prevailed.  Freedom's not so tidy.
We had a week-long party dedicated to annihilation
Til you covered me with flowers and we called it liberation.

Known unknowns
Unknown unknowns
Our former friends are now overthrown
Known unknowns
Unknown unknowns
All these unknown unknowns

It's true I bound you up and attempted asphyxiation
But then you covered me all over in shame and humiliation
Eventually I pushed you in the booby trap I'd built
But if there's nothing true or false, how can there be guilt?

Known unknowns
Unknown unknowns
Finally we all stand alone
Known unknowns
Unknown unknowns
All these unknown unknowns

Sub Mission (2)

From Bandra to Banda Sea



Still Can't Say No

Thinking today of the song that goes, "Someone talking, talking says that he's a socialist, whatever the hell that means.  I never got the gist.  I can understand why somebody would think that I am queer, but that he'd be just like me is the only thing I fear.  And still I can't say no."

Music Cage

Last Call

Last call
Let's go
The party's over, we've been left behind
Last call
We're done
Like melted ice cubes & a lemon rind

Last call
Head home
The bartender's packing up his cut-up limes
Tip well
Poor guy
You told him your most boring stories several times

Here's to those who look up and see
That Venus and Dionysus have fled
Nothing left but a Daily Show rerun
Some PopTarts, then off to bed

Last call
So sad
The drugs we took were not quite proper
Last call
Time's up
Everyone else had ecstasy and poppers



All the rest found a better party
To which you and I were not invited
Sad to say, our love for the in-crowd
Is a love unrequited

Last call
Show's done
The only music is the ringing in our ears
Last call
Pack up
But grab some swizzle-stick souvenirs
It's the only way to show that we were here

Elegy

Jimmy called up and I knew right away
It was years in the coming, but it happened today
I knew what it'd be even before he said,
"It finally happened.  I'm sorry.  He's dead."
You'd bragged and you'd treated it all like joke
But the illness was stronger and you finally broke
Someone, I know, should have been there and stayed.
I'm sorry you were alone.  I hope you weren't afraid.

I think of the good times, just like you're supposed to
So fun to be with, so hard to be close to
Sometimes I ignored your lies and deceit
Thinking those are allowed to a poète maudit
As if your pretension to being an artist
Excused certain choices, perhaps not the smartest
But whatever I say to try and dismiss you
I can't see the bottom to how much I'll miss you

I'm saying this now trying to fill up the void
I know if you heard it you'd just be annoyed
Of course you would find it all dumb and cliché
At best you might smile and say, "Yeah, it's OK"
Or maybe this once, maybe you'd condescend
To accept something given with love from a friend
I wish it were better. It's all that I've got.
You're dead now, you bastard. You're dead and I'm not.

Parlor Song

There once was a flower that grew in a hedge
She filled up my heart with her scent
Today when I looked, the flower was gone
And nobody knew where she went

Oh why should I weep
Oh why should I cry
The flower is gone
But her scent still stays by

There once was a bird who lived in a tree
And delighted us all with his song
Then some thoughtless boy killed my bird with a shot
And now my most dear friend is gone

Oh why should I weep
Oh why should I cry
My dear friend is gone
But his song still stays by

There once was a mermaid who lived in a brook
And her voice was the sound of a dream
The mermaid has vanished, I'll see her no more
But I still hear her voice in the stream

Oh why should I weep
Oh why should I cry
My mermaid is gone
But her voice still rolls by

"Our Country Duet"

You and I sing together every Thursday at Slagger's
Like George Jones and Tammy Wynette
The high point's the moment when you look in my eyes
As we sing "Our Country Duet".

But last night something happenned as we sang that song
That spooked me and I can't forget
I got a strange empty feeling when you looked in my eyes
As we sang "Our Country Duet".

Oh the words were the same and the tune was the same
And it wasn't like you looked upset
But I knew it was over when you looked in my eyes
As we sang "Our Country Duet".

And when we had finished you walked off the stage
And smiled and lit a cigarette
Did you know that I'd noticed what happened just then
As you sang "Our Country Duet"?

I look at you and, though you don't touch my hand,
Your face isn't filled with regret
But I know it now, even if you can't say it
I can never sing "Our Country Duet".






Kind of a country cousin to the last one.

Let the Music Do the Talking

Kind of a simple one, but it has a nice tune.



Let the music do the talking
Words lie and betray
Music has a way of saying
What words can never say

When I get sentimental
My feelings are a mess
Music then can say things
That words just can't express

For when you speak
Then the thought is broken
But music expresses
The unspoken

Every tune is a story
Each melody, unique
Why should words do the talking
Just let the music speak
Oh, just let the music speak

Happy birthday Jymn!  You make me blank.

Swiss mus-i-shian: http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/in-the-loop/wp/2013/11/12/tina-turner-formally-relinquishes-u-s-citizenship/

The Return of the Maroon Smoking Jacket

A very happy birthday and many happy returns of the day, Tracy!  One hears from you far too seldom. How is Tim the Horse?

Christmas Special 13: The Twelfth Night of Christmas

I'm thinking a Nick Lowe, piano and brushes-on-the-snare feel.



Tomorrow the needles
Get swept off the floor
We'll take that dried wreath
Off of the door

The tinsel and ribbons
Will get thrown away
It's the Twelfth Night of Christmas
The very last day

The season of giving
Is over and done
And though it was fun
The time has now come for everyday living

Tomorrow we'll unplug
And box up the lights
It's the Twelfth Night of Christmas
The very last night