yesterday i got lost
on gen z emo
rap and cried about the lean
the purple the blue
they turned
before their time
came due
thank god
the music lives
on
Tag Archives: music
instru.mental
all the popular songs
penned on club napkins by
wasted wannabe
troubadours
looking back
they say i just wrote
whatever to dispel
the journalists
the craving
for deeper meaning
and they aren’t often lying
a song never needed
a lyric like a lyric
needed a song
lost with you
staying up late into the night and still
early for you. i am listening to the world series
fills the room with sunshine in the muted
waves of sound
the away team has won every game and my heart
can still hear yours. you would laugh at me
for sure, to call the hour
late
we would be just getting started
out looking for videotapes and alleyway treasures
and trouble
in five days we turn time back again
will we remember, you and me?
we strung out different images
off the same
perspective and
none of it looked real
all i have to say is that i cannot forget
what happened. getting lost
with you
getting lost
changed my life
crick.et
a single cricket found his way into my home and hides on the vine. i delight in his courage to make music in this strange and dangerous land
reading #249
reading #231
reading #166
city and music of
was america was
chicago was life worth
working for ina cross
road. you and me and any one
fought through the seasons
the vocals the
exhaust
the steam of whistling
industry
i could feel the touch
the warmth beneath your voice
in a cold world
a hot world
you could shout you could scream
you would have to
to be heard
then the aftermath the streets
the faces ina diner
ina hard won heartfelt
part of town
mocha skin tones made by
sun and genes
cream and sugar and
coffee black
where noise is music
toasting broken hearts and
dishes and bottles. you woke me up
i can feel you today thousands
of miles away
i can laugh
i can cry ona dime ina city
and the music of
noise
i was and wasn’t
there
city and the music of noise
was america was
chicago was life worth
working for ina cross
road. you and me and any one
fought through the seasons
the vocals the
exhaust
the steam of whistling
industry
i could feel the touch
the warmth beneath your voice
in a cold world
you could shout you could scream
you would have to
to be heard
then the aftermath the streets
the faces ina diner
ina hard won heartfelt
part of town
mocha skin tones made by
sun and genes
cream and sugar and
coffee black
where noise is music
toasting broken hearts and
dishes and bottles. you woke me up
i can feel you today thousands
of miles away
i can laugh
i can cry ona dime ina city
and the music of
noise
i was and wasn’t
there
de.celebrated
most rock stars walk the memory back to the days when every concert was hard pressed and hard won, when they knew personally every groupie and went afterpartying with the club, fresh cuts on their lips they themselves had opened. when gigs were dive bars, audiences unpredictable if not hostile, and pay came in the form of an open tab. when a station wagon full of amps needed a jump. simple luxuries on the road. a bitter loaf of bread. one after one night stand. a pan full of eggs and bacon. walls dressed in hard wood. the percolating coffee pot to happy, ringing ears. crazy laughter and rolling eyes. what just happened and did it, really? most rock stars dream of such beginnings. wishing they could cut their teeth on it again but no. alas, another sold out show. play the hits, play the hits! otherwise you risk sounding like you lost your edge. don’t break us in on new material, god, please don’t make us suffer so… they do. somewhere, under the belly of the rainbow disappeared, through the gold-plated bars of today’s high hung song bird cage. awash in stale hits. buried in mountains of paperwork. feeding the hungry custody of ex-wives. studying the tax codes. dining with didbits and divorce lawyers. oh, how a dream can turn back on itself.
