jjorge
I see you have done very well on the Dean thread. Plus the poems you give us from time to time are always a pleasure.
edgar, What's the dean thread?
It's political: "jjorge's dean diary."
Thanks, edgar. Since it is in politics, that explains why I haven't seen it.
When one plucks the moon,
One gives it to a loved one.
Still there hangs a moon,
Wan orb between Earth and Sun.
As one plucks the rose,
A brand new one always grows.
And, same as the rose,
The hale new moon quickly shows.
THE TIMES THEY ARE A-BACK ROLLIN'
Hey people what do you know
Do you see the waters steadily grow
Do you feel besieged wherever you go
Do you see your leaders turn sickly grey
Do you see your safety net get secreted away
The money siphoned to faceless corporate sway
Now do you hear the bells frantically tolling
For the times they are a-back rolling
THE TIMES THEY ARE A-BACKROLLIN'
Come neocon Republicans throughout the land
It don't matter what ya do or ya don't understand
The horses of state are at your command
Roosevelt's order is rapidly fading
At your hand disintegrating
The faceless votes participating
Where your tanks are now patrolling
For the times they are a-backrolling
When they asked me, I wrote this in two minutes or less. Joe Nation
One of those time gone by 1963-1968
That day
we were in History,
on a red-leafed Connecticut hill,
Sister Mousie's class,
although her name was really Sister Julie Phillipina,
she was Sister Mousie because
she was so small
and nearly squeaked when she talked
and we,
well we were so cool
and beautiful
and handsome
and full of the juice of life
until
Father Shaw came on the intercom.
Let me tell you,
I was so sad right from the first word,
so sad,
so hoping that the next words would be about miracles
and how everything was going to be okay
but nothing was never okay after that day
and I'm not all that sure that anything was okay
before that day
but it sure felt like it
dammit.
Mary Carter, who I didn't know,
stopped me on the hill,
going down to the buses and
gave me a hard kiss on the mouth,
then we walked to the stop without speaking.
Years later, in a San Francisco hotel room,
I asked her what that kiss was about.
She said
"Oh, that, I kissed you
because I thought the world was coming to an end
and I didn't want to miss out on kissing those lips."
and I said
Jesus,
and we went to crying,
crying for the lost years,
crying for the lost years,
crying for our nation and our youth
and the sweet young man
who married Jackie
who married us
full of juice
in one of those times gone by.
In the morning,
I took her to the airport
then
hitchhiked back to
the airbase.
Twas another morning in America
sweet nineteen sixty-eight.
Joe
I liked it too...such a good writer.
Captured suddenly
a little bird caught
upon a rose bush
to taste the flower
Outside my door
I caught a glimpse of you
fluttering, struggling, frightened
you tried to fly away, yet something held you close
I was puzzled for a moment
Then I broke off the branch that held you captive
As I held you in my hand
I saw a simple white thread wrapped around your tiny foot that weaved around the thorns
Slowly unwinding the thread that held you close
I gave you freedom once again
THE TIMES THEY ARE A-BACKROLLIN' - third and final verse
No writers and prophets throughout the land
No one's there to help us to understand
One voter's head's in his ass another's in the sand
Third world peon's our new calling
And the opposition ain't even stalling
They're just donkeys in the loft a-bawling
Use the heads of the righteous for bowling
For the times they are a-back rolling
Most of us will recognize that this is a rewriting of Bob Dylan's THE TIMES THEY ARE A-CHANGING.
You got me started...humming that song!
If anyone wants a bit of extra fun, this new thread of Monger's is a delight:
http://www.able2know.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=15502
To my wife:
I pitter patter into
the sweet soft night
of your thighs,
a rise or two,
a love that's true,
and thoughts that send
my dreams to flight.
Thanks, cav. I'm short on time just now, but will check that thread as the day goes along.
A man hid in the deepest dark night,
Counting his pearls by a light
Of still quiet; centered beam:
A man like a star clad in the seems
Of the darkest stormy dreams -
Stoic rock in the violent stream!
Joe Nation wrote:When they asked me, I wrote this in two minutes or less. Joe Nation
One of those time gone by 1963-1968
That day
we were in History,
on a red-leafed Connecticut hill,
Sister Mousie's class,
although her name was really Sister Julie Phillipina,
she was Sister Mousie because
she was so small
and nearly squeaked when she talked
and we,
well we were so cool
and beautiful
and handsome
and full of the juice of life
until
Father Shaw came on the intercom.
Let me tell you,
I was so sad right from the first word,
so sad,
so hoping that the next words would be about miracles
and how everything was going to be okay
but nothing was never okay after that day
and I'm not all that sure that anything was okay
before that day
but it sure felt like it
dammit.
Mary Carter, who I didn't know,
stopped me on the hill,
going down to the buses and
gave me a hard kiss on the mouth,
then we walked to the stop without speaking.
Years later, in a San Francisco hotel room,
I asked her what that kiss was about.
She said
"Oh, that, I kissed you
because I thought the world was coming to an end
and I didn't want to miss out on kissing those lips."
and I said
Jesus,
and we went to crying,
crying for the lost years,
crying for the lost years,
crying for our nation and our youth
and the sweet young man
who married Jackie
who married us
full of juice
in one of those times gone by.
In the morning,
I took her to the airport
then
hitchhiked back to
the airbase.
Twas another morning in America
sweet nineteen sixty-eight.
Joe
Poignant.
I like it a LOT Joe.
I was a 21 year college freshman in November 1963.
(just back from four years in the USMC).
It was just before a 1pm class when we learned that JFK had been shot.
The classroom was like a surgery waiting room --quiet, somber... tense.
When we heard that Kennedy had died, we all walked out crying.
Up on a hill, to our right as we exited the classroom building, the flag was sinking to half-mast.
Thoughts of JFK's death still bring me to tears forty years later, and I suppose they always will.
In 1968 I graduated from high school
Didn't know really what I wanted to do
Or where I was going either
In 1972 I married my hunny
Didn't know where I was going then
But was having a great time
In !974 I had a son
Didn't know lot more either
But life was good
In 1977 I had a daughter
My family of four was complete
Those were the days
Hey, larryta.
Welcome. Please feel free to add your spontaneous poems here all you like. I enjoy reading them.
beaks clipped their toes cut
frankenstein breasts jut
turkeys to glut your pleasure
dreaming of franklin's words
would be national birds
await the death man's measure
