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 Apr 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
Slot A, Tab B,
or Square peg and round hole
finding out which one you are
is man's eternal goal
One must find self placement
Are you slot A or Tab B?
The only question truly is
Which one of them is me?
You laugh when no one else does
so, does that make you the slot?
Where exactly do you fit?
Who gets what you have got?
Until the magic moment
When Tab A finds Slot B
You wander round not knowing
If you're really, roll-up C
Now the mix is daunting
With A and B and C
A Tab, A Hole, A Rollup
which one should you be
In time all will be answered
You'll find out which you are
By then if things go right
You'll meet attachment R
 Apr 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
Driving up the highway
When I saw it in the mist
Like a pure and tender ******
Still waiting to be kissed
A village all forgotten
Somehow time had missed
You could see it from the highway
slightly hazy in the mist

Had time forgotten this poor place
Left in limbo for all days
Was it just a trick of light and sun
Manufactured through the haze
Were the folks here ****** to stay
Out of reach but in our gaze
Or were they truly here by choice
Living old, forgotten ways

Brigadoon did spring to mind
but, in truth I thought this good
Be something better than that curse
This village protected by the wood
I pulled on to the shoulder
And tried to see as best I could
This simple town or vision
That had not aged as it should

I saw no point of entry
No way to get there from my place
It was perfect, untouched, special
A village bathed in grace
Folks kept driving past me
Up the highway at such pace
They would never see this village
In the mist as fine as lace

The village may be magic
It may be something in between
In truth all I can tell you
What I saw, not what I mean
It's a village, plain and simple
in the woods, all shades of green
Un-kissed, and yet so perfect
stuck in stasis, in between
 Apr 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
Woke up late this morning
Wish the pain would pass
Cigarettes in the ashtray
lipstick on the glass

What in god's name happened
what did I do last night
Everything is fuzzy
It hurts to see the light

Hold that thought, I'll be right back
That's the last thing that I said
Now, here I am next morning
Feeling half past dead
Hold that thought, were my last words
From there ....I just don't know
Someone brought me home here
But, someone...I don't know

Cigarettes and lipstick
The pairing makes me think
A half a pack of winstons
And a nearly empty drink

I   am not a smoker
I  smoke what's close at hand
Right now, I'm feeling sea sick
And I'm still here on dry land

Hold that thought, I'll be right back
That's the last thing that I said
Now, here I am next morning
Feeling half past dead
Hold that thought, were my last words
From there ....I just don't know
Someone brought me home here
But, someone...I don't know

I'm gonna take a shower
Maybe that will help my head
I just don't know what happened
Or who brought me home to bed

A glass with lipstick on it
My cigarettes or not
The last thing I remember
is saying Hold That Thought

Hold that thought, I'll be right back
That's the last thing that I said
Now, here I am next morning
Feeling half past dead
Hold that thought, were my last words
From there ....I just don't know
Someone brought me home here
But, someone...I don't know
 Apr 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
I got my guitar
i'm sittin' here
writing songs
and drinking beer
written nothing
you'd want to hear
really...nothing...squat

no one bugs me
working hard
the kids are
playing in the yard
the dog is sleeping
keeping guard
I've nothing...bupkiss...squat

I've got the writers block blues
can't write nothing...'cept bad news
I've got the writers block blues
got nothing to lose
while I've got the writers block blues

had some words
but  no melody
not a **** note
has  come to me
i'm writing
a silent symphony
I've got bupkis,, nada,,,squat

last one I wrote
wasn't  mine
nice and easy
in three quarter time
turned out it was
Patsy Cline's
I've got bupkiss, nada, squat

I've got the writers block blues
can't write nothing...'cept bad news
I've got the writers block blues
got nothing to lose
while I've got the writers block blues
 Mar 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
Martin Luther had a dream
Geronimo had visions
People use all sorts of ways
To come to their decisions

Tea leaf readers in a cup
A Psychic with some cards
Looking at a twirling disc
And dancing in the yard

Decision making's easy
If you have the correct tool
You may get the right answer
Or you may end up a fool

Shaman in a sweat lodge
Chew peyote just to see
What the others can not visualize
But what comes easy to folks like me

Some roll dice, and others bones
To get the answer that they need
Others ask the dead to help
To get their answer freed

I myself use none of these
None of these at all
I sit down with a bourbon
And my old Magic Black 8-ball

I switched the little answer ball
It has answers....only two
One is just the one word "dude"
And "what would Keith Richards do?"

"Dude" is universal
It has helped me win not lose
Because it's meaning changes
Depending on the "u"'s

Say it with one U...dude
it means don't even think it
But add eight more and make it duuuuuuuuude
And there's no question you should drink it

The other answer's simple
What would good old Keefy do?
If it didn't **** old Keefy
It won't **** me and you

So, use your magic mushrooms
Dance with spirits in the hall
But I'll make my decisions
With my plastic, black eight ball
 Mar 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
I Grew Up on Country Music
When Rock and Roll was king
My friends all liked the Beatles
But, that was not my thing
I liked to hear the fiddle
To hear the joy burst from the strings
I Grew Up on Country Music
When Rock and Roll was king

I remember me and Grandad
Listening to the radio
We would listen to the Opry
While my friends went to the show
Johnny Cash, The Gatlins,
Grandpa Jones, and Old Hank Snow
I was raised on country music
I just wanted you to know

I loved the feeling I would get
when I heard a country tune
Singing about trucks and girls
And a golden Tennessee Moon
Charlie Daniels, Jimmy Dean
The Judds, and Roger Miller
Willie, Waylon, Tom T. Hall
and Jerry Lee...the Killer

I Grew Up on Country Music
When Rock and Roll was king
My friends all liked the Beatles
But, that was not my thing
I liked to hear the fiddle
To hear the joy burst from the strings
I Grew Up on Country Music
When Rock and Roll was king



Country lost it's western
and Rock it lost it's roll
But, still old country music
Those tunes just made me whole
I learned all of the lyrics
And I love to hear them sing
I grew up on Country Music
When Rock and Roll was King

I Grew Up on Country Music
When Rock and Roll was king
My friends all liked the Beatles
But, that was not my thing
I liked to hear the fiddle
To hear the joy burst from the strings
I Grew Up on Country Music
When Rock and Roll was king
 Mar 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
At what point , does the liquor
Start doing the talking?
At what point do you cease to exist?
Is it three shots, or four shots
When the liquor starts talking
You are buzzed but you aren't really ******
The people around you
Notice you're slightly different
The bartender says to you
"no more drinks"
But the liquor inside you,
Tells him where he can stick it
The liquor's in charge now, me thinks
You try to control it
You try not to listen
You want to pack up and go home
But, the liquor inside you
Says, ****...keep on drinking
I'm in charge now,
And you're not alone.
It happens so quickly
The old you gets buried
The new you comes out
Between rounds
It's funny, it happens
When the liquor takes over
And it does it
without making a sound
Some people surface
when the liquor is talking
The new person is
much more fun
But, tomorrow...you'll know
that the liquor was talking
When your head hurts
at the sound of the sun
Drinking ain't evil
It's just a product of living life large
But, watch out you people
for when the liquor starts talking
you know you're no longer in charge
So, when does it happen ?
When the liquor takes over
Is it three shots or possibly more?
You'll know, yes I'm certain
when the liquor is talking
That is when they will show you
the door.
 Mar 2015
David
Dear reader, always remember that it takes far more effort to live peaceably and happily with those whom we live closely with than to achieve some "perfect" relationship with those with whom we do not live. The reason is quite simple and should be easily remedied if we apply ourselves to the task. Those whom we think we know but live not with seem perfect to us since we are unable to detect their flaws. If we should live near them or in the same dwelling with them for a brief time, how swiftly would those foibles be manifested to us and likewise ours to them.
David   copyright  March 2, 2015
 Feb 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
Twenty two years had passed  by

She blinked, and a lifetime had passed

She started this job as a lark

She never thought it would last

Two husbands and rehab were part of this bar

The husbands...her clients all knew

But the rehab, was hers...and hers all alone

Only one in her family knew

She'd been tending bar here for 3 presidents plus

Two popes, two husbands....one queen

There were things in this bar that were secreted away

There were things just not meant to be seen

Say, 4 fights a week for 22 years

That's four thousand six hundred fights

That's more violent acts than one person should see

That's  a lot of just mind numbing sights

As a tender of bar, she was part doctor as well

Serving drinks, and giving advice

She was hit on as well, and most she turned down

But some, they succeeded....some twice

They would come with their problems

spill their guts to this girl

Who they'd probably just met that night

They would tell her their problems and drink a few ales

When they  left, they would be feeling all right

But, Mary...poor Mary would harbour their pain

She'd help them, but could not let things go

They'd cheer up with her talking and 1 or 2 beers

But she hurt, and would leave feeling low

There was always a someone on the tales other end

Who was home, maybe beaten or mad

But, Mary....she talked to the one who'd come out

And she always left feeling quite sad

The stories they told her, she never asked them to tell

But they came and they opened on up

And she as their hostess just listened and served

Whle they sat there, getting full in their cups

She married two men that she met in the bar

Both left wives, and poor Mary was blind

They both charmed this girl, till she was way too far gone

And she learned that love..yes, was blind

She had a young niece, that her sister had left

She was going to school here in town

If there was one person alive who could bring Mary up

Her niece Amber was the proverbial clown

After marrying twice and divorcing just once

Mary vowed not to do it again

But, she was hit on each night

in this bar Down the lane,

by a considerable number of men

Her first husband...a lout, for better want of a term

Was a drunkard, and jealous most days

But she fell for him hard, for his sad tale of woe

And her marriage lasted 91 days

He would come in each night after finishing work

And would berate her for flirting for tips

After leaving the bar, he would beat her at home

Hitting low, just above Mary's hips

Her boss saw her marks whens she was filling the fridge

He kept quiet, but he told her to call

A friend that he had, who would help Mary out

He knew her marks were not from a fall

Before Mary phoned she had incredible news

Her husband had been in a crash

Her problems were over and her bruises would heal

And it all happened ...****...in a flash

During this time her sister ran off

Leaving Amber for Mary to raise

Though she hated her sister for leaving

Dear Amber she loved, and she helped Mary get through the days

But eight years along, with no outlet in sight

Hearing tales and of other folks pain

Mary reached out and she found comfort in

A needle and a rock of *******

for three years she spiked, shooting up every day

spending money she stole from the till

And during this time, she got married again

He seduced her when she had no self will

He knew of her problem and joined in all the same

Just a leech come along for the ride

He would help keep her secret, never telling her boss

Never letting them know she was fried.

Poor Amber found out, she walked in one June day

there was Mary with her coke and her spoon

When she looked at young Amber, she knew she must quit

And she knew that she must do it soon

Pure heartbreak she saw in that little girls eyes

She could see how she thought she would lose

Her Aunt like her mother, gone from her life

Mary knew she would now have to choose

Rehab was chosen, and her husband he left

He found out that this train had now stopped

his free ride was over, his meal ticket gone

You could say that his bubble had popped

Two years clean celebrated, at the bar with the kid

Mary got some good news from her boss

He was retiring to Texas and was selling the bar

And he would sell it to her at a loss

She was now the proud owner of a bar all her own

Three doors down from Giannis on Hope

She would run it precisely, the way she'd been taught

She would run the bar clean, free from dope

She would meet some great people,

Some nights in for a drink

And others that she wished would just leave

She would listen to stories, some good some not quite so much

And others just to  hard to believe

She would make friends with some people  And others she'd ban,

making sure that they left with a start

She'd befriend Harry Cooper, the World War two vet

Who would imprint his soul on her heart

And Amber...yes Amber would come down to spend time

She was fine and was going to school

She was a classical ****** in the dark of her room

And I tell you this girl was just cool

Mary brought Amber up with morals and faith

She would come when her Aunt made the call

She would rather hang out at the bar every night

Than to go with her friends to the mall

Mary made peace with the demons she had

She could leave the folks tales and go home

But, now she had Amber and a reason to live

And she would not have to do it alone

the bar's past Giannias, three doors  down to the right

It's not large but she makes  it make do

There's some music out back from a bluesman as well

Come on down and be one of the few

Be a regular there, join up with the crowd

It's not big but the beer's always cold

You don't have to stay long, but you'll come back again

For it's special....or so I've been told

Tell Mary I sent you, you'll get a free drink

And a free ear to hear of your tale

But, leave your ciggies outside for you can't smoke in here

You can do it outside by the pail.
 Feb 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
The mist hung heavy in the air
Touching lightly on marsh grasses
It was almost like a London fog
And as thick as cold molasses

Beneath the mist in hiding
Decomposing in the night
Were the results of one more battle
Awaiting dawns early light

The Union and The Rebels
Fighting for what they believe
And soon, these victims kin folk
Will learn their fate and will then grieve

Cannon, gun and bayonet
Were the weapons for the ****
You couldn't see the bodies
Through the mist from on the hill

Amongst the dead one soldier
Died from a shot that came behind
His head was gaping open
He was shot by his own kind

The armies both died facing
The direction of attack
Except for this one soldier
Who was taken from the back

A coward's lot is hellfire
And so it will be for Will May
He was shot by his own brother
As he turned and ran away

The mist hung heavy in the air
Touching lightly on marsh grasses
It was almost like a London fog
And as thick as cold molasses
 Jan 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
Amulets and Talismans
Hide your daughters, arm your sons
Something wicked this way comes
There's evil o'er the land

Coats of grey and coats of blue
Pick a side, which one are you?
The dead are many, survivors few
Freedom is at hand

The fields are littered with the dead
What once was gold, now bleeds red
Corpses now grow here instead
What cost does freedom bring?

Crimson now does paint the earth
The blood of boys scant years from birth
They gave their lives, for what it's worth
Hear the bells of freedom ring

Two hundred years and more since then
The tides of war begin again
An endless circle with no end
Arm your daughters, arm your sons

Talismans and Amulets
Don't protect from fighter jets
It's sad how soon the world forgets
Something wicked this way comes....
 Oct 2014
Roger Turner - Poet
A month ago I sat in class
in a New England School for boys
Now, I'm in a bomber group
Adjusting to the noise

I made plans for Harvard
A doctor, I would be
Then my life would turn
In a way I didn't see

The war was on in Europe
We saw in the press
But, 18 days before Christmas
we were pulled into the mess

Future plans were put aside
Our country we'd support
We'd forget all of our future thoughts
We'd join, though not for sport

We signed up down in Boston
Young men flyers, soldiers all
Preparing for a battle
Many would not live till fall

We thought not of our future
Our present, all we had
Many dead by Christmas next
The thought is truly sad

You do not what you want to
But, what needs to be done
You go from boy to man so fast
You've barely walked...now run

Think back on those who made it
Remember who did not
Young men they are forever
They deserve a longer thought

The air is pure and holy
It is scattered with young souls
Boys, now men who went to war
And put aside their goals
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