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 May 2014
Roger Turner - Poet
Sing me songs
about Nascar Nation
I don't care about
your beach vacation
I want to hear
about trucks and whisky
Not when Taylor
Swift got frisky

Give me songs
that make me cry
not songs about
a cheating guy
Let me hear
about girls and guns
about going fishing
about having fun

sing me songs of old...
sing me solid gold
songs where tales were told
just sing me songs...my heart can hold.....

Give me songs
about redneck weddings
about lonely highways
and where I'm heading
I don't care
about sand and sunshine
I just need to hear
'bout the life that is  mine

Sing me songs about
Trucks and racing
I don't care about
who's book facing
Let me hear
some Charlie Daniels
going hunting
with Springer spaniels

Sing me songs
that touch my heart
songs I'll sing
when we're apart
I don't care
about fields of flowers
or about your
secret powers

sing me songs of old...
sing me solid gold
songs where tales were told
just sing me songs...my heart can hold.....

Sing me songs
like those long ago
about broken hearts
and tales of woe
Sing me songs
that i'll remember
way past december

sing me songs of old...
sing me solid gold
songs where tales were told
just sing me songs...my heart can hold.....
 May 2014
Roger Turner - Poet
When things get settled
I start moving
It's the time to hit the trail
I take the chance to move along
by truck or car or rail

No ties to where I'm leaving
Where I'm headed
I don't know
But, when things start feeling settled
I know it's time for me to go

Friends, not many
Family...nope
Relationships...they don't exist
I only live on hope
I'm not around one place too long
i know the time to go
I've said goodbye so many times
I forgot how to say hello

Images of long ago
A father was not there
He'd leave when we were not around
Off to who knows where

I've seen so many broken hearts
I stopped counting at fourteen
I don't even try to know
The broken hearts I've seen

Friends, not many
Family...nope
Relationships...they don't exist
I only live on hope
I'm not around one place too long
i know the time to go
I've said goodbye so many times
I forgot how to say hello

I'm lonely, but I'm not alone
I'm by myself inside my head
I've memories of loves I've lost
got too close, so then I fled

I don't want to be a number
Just added to the list
I don't care to even try to count
The lips I've never kissed

Friends, not many
Family...nope
Relationships...they don't exist
I only live on hope
I'm not around one place too long
i know the time to go
I've said goodbye so many times
I forgot how to say hello
I've said goodbye so many times
I forgot how to say hello
 May 2014
Roger Turner - Poet
I went to the river
once there, I wandered in
I went to the river
and washed away my sin
i came back from the river
I found my truck up on the road
i came back from the river
ready to re-load

I'm not sure if this is how to say it
drinking with the devil takes it's toll
you have to walk away instead of staying
for if you stay the devil gets your soul

you can live a life of excess if you want to
an endless circle pushed to the extremes
the party seems like it is never ending
but when it does, you're left with broken dreams

you can reload if you want but just be cautious
the devil knows your weakness after all
he knows you wash your sins out in the river
but, he also knows, one day you'll hear his call

I went to the river
once there, I wandered in
I went to the river
and washed away my sin
i came back from the river
I found my truck up on the road
i came back from the river
ready to re-load

you have a choice when you go to the river
do you follow it, and just avoid the road
get on a boat and see where it is leading
or just have a splash, and meet at the cross road

life is full of twists and turns and effort
the river is just a stop along the way
but, the devil knows you never really mean it
once you wash your sins, you head on back to play

in the end you'll end up on the roadway
the river bed is dry and is long dead
the sins you washed away there are just dust now
because there was no truth in what you said

I went to the river
once there, I wandered in
I went to the river
and washed away my sin
i came back from the river
I found my truck up on the road
i came back from the river
ready to re-load

I went to the river
once there, I wandered in
I went to the river
and washed away my sin
i came back from the river
I found my truck up on the road
i came back from the river
ready to re-load
 May 2014
Roger Turner - Poet
Smiling face
and laughing eyes
I can't believe
I fell for all those lies
I think it's best
we share goodbyes
You're just an actor in lifes play

Standing there
upon the stage
reciting speeches
from the page
while i sit fuming
full of rage
You're just an actor in life's play

To me you're just an empty shell
Who I will meet again in hell
With others words, such tales you tell
And I believed them.....I believed

I thought that
what you said was true
That you loved me
like I loved you
Then I found out
That's what you do
You're an actor on life's stage

The real you
is a mystery
You've got a
blackened history
I can't believe
you did this to me
You're an actor on life's stage

Another play
Another role
Crawl on back
into your hole
You're an empty vessel
With a blackened soul
You're an actor on life's stage

The real you
you will find no more
it's just a role
you played before
so many lives
that you've lost score
you're an actor on life's stage

Silence falls
as you will find
No actor's mask
to hide behind
The play will end
Time is not kind
You're an actor with no stage

To me you're just an empty shell
Who I will meet again in hell
With others words, such tales you tell
And I believed them.....I believed
 May 2014
Roger Turner - Poet
I play ***** tonks
and run down bars
I play mandolin
And two guitars
I play where you
can smoke cigars
I'm the best that's ever been

Name a song
I'll play it loud
I'll sing louder
than the crowd
My name is
Billy Joe Mc Cloud
I'm the best that's ever been

I'm the best **** four stringed six string
and eight stringed twelve string
or Three stringed mandolin player
That you will ever hear
And if you don't believe me
Listen up, and have a beer
You may think I'm crazy
But deep down you know it's true
I play a four stringed six string
eight stringed twelve string
three string mandolin
A hell of a lot better than you

I grew up
with little hands
Couldn't make it
In real bands
So, I cut some strings
You understand
And I'm the best that's ever been

So I miss some
minor notes
It still hits home
and the music floats
It's not the same
as what was wrote
But, I'm the best that's ever been

You'll love me
yes, I know you will
Just listen once
To get that thrill
One song in ,
your doubt I'll ****
I'm the best that's ever been

Little hands
and short of strings
But when i play
The guitar sings
Just have a beer
And some hot wings
I'm the best that's ever been
Yes, I'm the best that's ever been

I'm the best **** four stringed six string
eight stringed twelve string
Three stringed mandolin player
That you will ever hear
And if you don't believe me
Listen up, and have a beer
You may think I'm crazy
But deep down you know it's true
I play a four stringed six string
and an eight stringed twelve string
or athree string mandolin
A hell of a lot better than you
 May 2014
Roger Turner - Poet
what doesn't **** you makes you stronger
you'll never know unless you try
face your demons and live longer
if you don't you'll surely die

Susie wilkins had some problems
tried to keep them all at bay
kept her secrets deep inside
but sometimes they would want to play

If you've toasted with the devil
he'll get your soul with just one glass
drink with him, he'll find your weakness
he'll get your soul, with just one glass

Susie thought she'd beat the needle
many years, the scars were healed
but, just one lonely drink with our dear devil
and all her demons were revealed

Susie, went back to her trailer
Another drink and then she'd try
One more needle couldn't hurt her
Her secrets out, and so she'll die

Otis Watson was a coward
Hit his wife for him to please
No one ever really wondered
Why she always wore long sleeves

He got his fill from all the torment
But, in the end  he needed more
A simple punch would not appease him
To him, she was a cheating *****

If you've toasted with the devil
he'll get your soul with just one glass
drink with him, he'll find your weakness
he'll get your soul, with just one glass


A little man with many demons
A simple drink with you know who
His inner issues had now surfaced
The devil now would get his due

He came home drunk his wife was waiting
She knew the beating that what would come
He came in hard his fists were flailing
As he met her brand new gun

There'll always be another bottle
And there will be another name
Just sell your soul and tell your demons
Just drink with him, it's all a game

Life is not a game of simple
It doesn't take a lot to lose
But if you're drinking with the devil
To him your demons are old news

If you've toasted with the devil
he'll get your soul with just one glass
drink with him, he'll find your weakness
he'll get your soul, with just one glass
 May 2014
Roger Turner - Poet
Woke up late
Day's shot to hell
But, hey it's Friday
So, I guess it's just as well

Called in,
booked the day off
I figured what the hell
Had a coffee and ten cigarettes
But, it's Friday...can't you tell

It never fails to come around
The Friday morning curse
There's nothing you can say or do
That will fix or make it worse
By six a.m the day is shot
And it hasn't started yet
Breakfast is a coffee...cold
And at least ten cigarettes

Figured since
I'm staying home
I'll watch some tv shows
Cable bill got missed this month
I guess that's how it goes

It's Friday
so, I'm going
To head down to the bar
But, I find out in my driveway
That someone stole my car

It never fails to come around
The Friday morning curse
There's nothing you can say or do
That will fix or make it worse
By six a.m the day is shot
And it hasn't started yet
Breakfast is a coffee...cold
And at least ten cigarettes

I think
I'll call a taxi
That'll get me to the bar
Then I think
You *****
You left your wallet in the car

The day
is going nowhere
And it seems, I am too
But, hey
At least it's Friday
And to me...it's nothing new

It never fails to come around
The Friday morning curse
There's nothing you can say or do
That will fix or make it worse
By six a.m the day is shot
And it hasn't started yet
Breakfast is a coffee...cold
And at least ten cigarettes


No wife
No car, a day off too
No tv shows to see
There's nothing
more can happen
That can make this worse for me

Breakfast, it's
cold coffee and
at least ten cigarettes
But, hell
It's frickin' Friday
And the day ain't started yet...

It never fails to come around
The Friday morning curse
There's nothing you can say or do
That will fix or make it worse
By six a.m the day is shot
And it hasn't started yet
Breakfast is a coffee...cold
And at least ten cigarettes
 May 2014
Roger Turner - Poet
She worked in the market
She sold flowers and jewellery
but, nobody there knew her name

With fifty young vendors
Of flowers and jewellery
Each teenaged young girl looked the same

No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
The child like lilt to her voice
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
Or the way that she blushed for the boys
No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
They all could be one and the same
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
or her hair, or her smile or her name

She was hitch hiking home
From the market one night
A car pulled on up for a ride

He told her he'd take her
If she needed a lift
It was cold,  so the girl  got inside

No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
The child like lilt to her voice
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
Or the way that she blushed for the boys
No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
They all could be one and the same
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
or her hair, or her smile or her name


No one has seen her
She's been gone for three days
She never arrived at her home

Nobody saw him
All cars look the same
And besides he was travelling alone

No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
The child like lilt to her voice
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
Or the way that she blushed for the boys
No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
They all could be one and the same
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
or her hair, or her smile or her name


The market still bustles
With sellers of flowers
Where everyone looks, shops or buys

But, something is missing
A young girl is gone
The girl with the smiling blue eyes

No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
The child like lilt to her voice
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
Or the way that she blushed for the boys
No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
They all could be one and the same
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
or her hair, or her smile or her name
 May 2014
Roger Turner - Poet
The albatross once filled the skies
Cormorants watched silent, from the shore
These are echoes of times long ago
There's nothing here for them any more

The coastline littered with sunken ships
Villages full of ghosts
Empty buildings and empty lives
Where just the sea gulls act as hosts

Oceans away lads, Oceans away
Out past the breakers and out to the sea
Oceans away lads, Oceans away
Out on the Ocean, where my soul is set free

The cod stocks have dwindled
There was no need to stay
There's no catch of the day, son
From here to Gaspe'

The canneries shuttered
The landscape has changed
I may be a sailor
But, my life's rearranged

Oceans away lads, Oceans away
Out past the breakers and out to the sea
Oceans away lads, Oceans away
Out on the Ocean, where my soul is set free




The Grand Banks are empty
Our boats are in hock
There's nothing that grows here
Except depression and rock

While others moved onward
I'll stay 'till I'm dead
Now, I feed off the tourists
I work the casinos instead

Oceans away lads, Oceans away
Out past the breakers and out to the sea
Oceans away lads, Oceans away
Out on the Ocean, where my soul is set free

The salt air still calls me
The wind in my sails
The sound of the rigging
Heading off to Kinsale

The coastline is empty
Where Ghost towns now stand
It used to be vibrant
But now just sea grass and sand

Oceans Away Lads, Oceans Away
On out past the breakers, and out to the see
Oceans away lads, Oceans Away
I still am a sailor, and I always will be
 Apr 2014
Roger Turner - Poet
I saw her at the diner
She caught my eye right from the start
It wasn't too long after
That this woman caught my heart

She didn't fit in with the people
Drinking coffee , eating up
She was drinking with her pinkie out
As she held her coffee cup

She's was high class in a low class world
That was plain as plain could be
I wanted to be in her world
And I wanted her with me
She was queen of somewhere
I don't know, and I wanted to be king
She was high class in a low class world
And I wanted to be king

She had her napkin tucked
Just so, you know
Not all scrunched up in a ***
And she only dabbed the corners
Like an Angel sent from God

She was crisp and pressed and perfect
Not a hair was out of place
And the light just made her eyes shine
She had such a lovely face

She's was high class in a low class world
That was plain as plain could be
I wanted to be in her world
And I wanted her with me
She was queen of somewhere
I don't know, and I wanted to be king
She was high class in a low class world
And I wanted to be king

She was sitting in our diner
although she belonged far uptown
Most folks here all wore ball caps
while she deserved a crown

When she spoke, my heart just trembled
Her voice was breathy, like a wisp
And she spoke like she was Royal
So cool and cut and crisp

She's was high class in a low class world
That was plain as plain could be
I wanted to be in her world
And I wanted her with me
She was queen of somewhere
I don't know, and I wanted to be king
She was high class in a low class world
And I wanted to be king

She was someone from a movie
Full of mystery, intrigue
And I knew from looking at her
She was way out of my league


I wouldn't know just where to start
She was gold and I was tin
She was High class in my low class world
And I surely wanted in

I stood there in the kitchen
Washing dishes in the sink
And I knew I'd go home lonely
What else was there for to think?

She's was high class in a low class world
That was plain as plain could be
I wanted to be in her world
And I wanted her with me
She was queen of somewhere
I don't know, and I wanted to be king
She was high class in a low class world
And I wanted to be king
 Apr 2014
Roger Turner - Poet
When people ask me "when you write, where do you get ideas"
I say sometimes they arrive at night, and other times from beers
I put words in an order that people seem to like
To me it is real easy, like riding on a bike
You can do it too I say, the words are all the same
Just write about the things you like, and make it like a game
Take things that go on naturally and give a little twist
Some will like what you just wrote and others will be ******
Now, take it one step further and give this one a try
Try to keep them twisted, but try to make them cry
Now some words fit together and they go together well
While others change in meaning, they shoot your writing all to hell
Certain words just do not work and to them I give a pass
It never made much sense to me when one says "plastic glass"
Jumbo shrimp is another phrase that I find quite confusing
But to George Carlin, these two words were really quite amusing
One word right now I'd like to use, and I don't want to be a hero
Is the one you know, that means nothing and that word now is ZERO
A zero is what's left when you take all things away
It can also be a person, like an actor in a play
It isn't easy to write this word alone and make it fun
And even when you pair it up, your work just isn't done
It changes things, negates, subtracts it's not an easy word
And in fact outside of math class, it's very rarely heard.
It doesn't come off positive and it doesn't make one laugh
To even use it properly, your work you have to craft
Other words and phrases can complicate things too,
For instead of just one meaning, there's some that might have two!
***** is one example of a word that goes both ways
And if you look down deep enough, there's humour in that phrase
I try to pair words up in ways I hope will not offend
I try to take some topics, twist them up and then I blend
Them all together to make it something new
Of all the poems I seem to write you may only see a few.
Now, back to words that don't make sense, and this to you I'll show,
The next word will be tolerate, you know...accepting, letting go,
Tolerance is something most accept, you know just let things  slide
But pair it up with other words and the doors just open wide
Just pair it up with zero and it means that's not allowed
Not now, and no not ever, not alone or in a crowd
But funny, how this phrase gets used and used and used again
It's like saying "Now...I've told you once...and I'll tell you yet again"
To me it means "your'e finished, you've broken all our trust"
"you've taken our **** rule book, and you've made it into dust"
To me it means final, the end, no more, you've ended up like Nero
I need to know, how many times there are that add to Zero!
Now, many words can hurt and sting and just aren't nice at all
These, I avoid and in a pinch, I work on back to "ball"
I'm glad that you have taken time to read my poems and verses
It's because of you that I stay sane, and stay away from Nurses
and Doctors who say, you're just mad, your mind it isn't right
So, I listen to their words, twist them up and say good night
Now, do yourself a favour, try and write something that's fun
You can show it off to others or you can be the only one,
That reads what you have written, you know it really could be good
But, you'll never know exactly...till you show it like you should.
 Apr 2014
Roger Turner - Poet
Better days were in the past
For the bar and all inside
Windows broke and lights burned out
The bar had long since died

Carpets gone and floors all worn
Scorch marks on the wall
Smells of stale beer in the air
the bar had it's last call

Welcome to the Stagger Inn
Good Food and Cold Beer Too
Live bands every single night
And it's air conditioned too
Welcome to the Stagger Inn
A bar befits it's name
We'll take you the way you are
And we're mighty glad you came

The stage was now an eyesore
As was most of what was here
Way back in the corner
Sat a woman with her beer

Hair was streaked with boot black
From a time, who knows when
The bar was dead or dying
As were most in this old den

A few nights folks would still come here
To see the towns old jewel
What once was gold and glistened
Now was just no longer cool

The lady way back in the corner
Hadn't danced since eighty three
Ten times a night she'd go and
Play the jukebox tune  5B

A song about the devil
calling him silver tongued was  her pick
She'd hit the worn out buttons
While giving her  chapped lips a lick

Sitting in the back and nursing
A beer as dead as the bar
On a steady diet of Winstons
That had made her voice as thick as  tar

Welcome to the Stagger Inn
Good Food and Cold Beer Too
Live bands every single night
And it's air conditioned too
Welcome to the Stagger Inn
A bar befits it's name
We'll take you the way you are
And we're mighty glad you came


Maybe fifteen people came here
When the other places were full
You could see the worn out tiles
Where there once was a mechanical bull

Trends were never big here
Though they tried a few to survive
The bar was dead and dying
Housing folks who now were barely alive

The last band that they had here
Was a cover group from down in NC
They didn't last the evening
Getting out done by  old 5B

The woman in the corner
With the boot black streak of wild
closed her eyes and listened
To the memories she had compiled

If you ever choose to come here
I don't think you'll stay long
But, I know you'll hear a singer
Talk of the devil in that 5B song

The door is always open
At the dead and dying Stagger Inn
A place that still lives through the ages
And the folks remembering what might have been

Welcome to the Stagger Inn
Good Food and Cold Beer Too
Live bands every single night
And it's air conditioned too
Welcome to the Stagger Inn
A bar befits it's name
We'll take you the way you are
And we're mighty glad you came
 Apr 2014
Roger Turner - Poet
There is a story of the beach that's been told
Of shipwrecks and pirates and their ***** of gold
Of devils and angels and souls that were sold
For the location that's hiding the treasure so old

During the day, the beach is quite full
Of tourists and locals and such
But, when the sun's going down
The locals don't go there so much

Most nights in movies there's groups at the beach
Singing songs round a large burning fire
But, this beach is different, no one goes there
Cross my heart, you can call me a liar

Out at the end of the breakers and rocks
Is a graveyard of old pirate ship hulls
Divers have checked them and nothing was found
Now they're home to just crayfish and gulls

The story is told of the pirate....Muldoon
And the treasure buried round in these parts
It's protected by witchcraft and devilish lore
And is covered by ten pirates hearts

They say that Muldoon took down ships by the score
From Jamaica on up to Gaspe
But whatever he took, no one knows where he left
his treasure from then to this day

His ghost it is said, roams the dunes in the night
His wailing is heard near the sea
Folks don't stick around when the day is done
There's nary a soul there to see

Muldoon was a man with a penchant for gold
He made deals with the devil as well
Witches have said that the last deal he made
Let him take all his ***** to hell

Pirates and Ghosts and Witches and ships
These are tales that will play on your mind
But for all that he took, and through all the years past
Not one single dubloon will ye find

From cradle to grave the folks in these parts
Know the story of the Pirate Muldoon
The tree where he died still stands by the shore
Glowing bright when there is a blood moon

The word is that he, was hung from the tree
And Muldoon cursed the beach as he dropped
He said that his gold would never be found
Though the searching never has stopped

Fires go out, and the wind whips his cry
Is it Muldoon or just tricks of the air
It doesn't much matter, for no one will know
Because at night, there is nobody there

Muldoon walks the beach with his leg made of wood
Guarding treasure, of jewellery and gold
He will stay there forever, for it will not be found
This I say, being ever so bold

If you should find yourself down at the beach
And the sun starts to set in the west
You'd best make a move and get home where it's safe
Or meet Muldoon who is guarding his chest.
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