Aug 2016
a Saturday afternoon love song*
<>
finally the breezes have sheared the humidity,
away, away, out, out sluggish, do nothing thoughted spots,
so peculiar to a Saturday August afternoon,
passing like a last exhaling breath,
quiet like, no receipt, no return, no raising of the turgid, languid lungs
one more time
alone with quiet contemplation for sole companionship,
observe a regatta of sailing board boats, silenced passerby's,
orderly and regal, the wind keeping them tidily single filed
their empowering wind makes me prone to
thoughts of singing,
Leon Russell's A Song For You,
up next on the playlist,
but the squirrels beg off,
the rabbits hide away 'neath the deck,
the craven ravens retreat to the highest branches,
alone, laughing at their impolite, unsubtle slipping away of the
dearly departed
earbud a semi-solo performance, a duet,
me backed up by
Leon and the river-baying waves,
a city boy singin$ rockily,
in a place where a city boy has no earthly business to be, ^
especially singing,
chanting to everyone, no one in particular,
listening real careful like to the words of two oaky, growly voices,
leftovers from the Sixties, sing a song to the ones they love
"I love you in a place where there's no space or time,
I love you for my life, You're a friend of mine
And when my life is over, Remember when we were together,
We were alone and I was singing this song to you"
sometimes it just doesn't get any better,
under the wings of the sky and its multi-shaded blue blessings,
don't need counting, enumerating, all kind of blending going on
the old alone days been on the mind,
those laser clouded future gazing hazing days,
when you listened to music non-stop, but never sung along,
strange though, I wept then, and weeping now,
can't quite make the connection...
guess my singing is still
just that bad*
<>
August 13, 2016
05:50pm
S.I.
<>
finally the breezes have sheared the humidity,
away, away, out, out sluggish, do nothing thoughted spots,
so peculiar to a Saturday August afternoon,
passing like a last exhaling breath,
quiet like, no receipt, no return, no raising of the turgid, languid lungs
one more time
alone with quiet contemplation for sole companionship,
observe a regatta of sailing board boats, silenced passerby's,
orderly and regal, the wind keeping them tidily single filed
their empowering wind makes me prone to
thoughts of singing,
Leon Russell's A Song For You,
up next on the playlist,
but the squirrels beg off,
the rabbits hide away 'neath the deck,
the craven ravens retreat to the highest branches,
alone, laughing at their impolite, unsubtle slipping away of the
dearly departed
earbud a semi-solo performance, a duet,
me backed up by
Leon and the river-baying waves,
a city boy singin$ rockily,
in a place where a city boy has no earthly business to be, ^
especially singing,
chanting to everyone, no one in particular,
listening real careful like to the words of two oaky, growly voices,
leftovers from the Sixties, sing a song to the ones they love
"I love you in a place where there's no space or time,
I love you for my life, You're a friend of mine
And when my life is over, Remember when we were together,
We were alone and I was singing this song to you"
sometimes it just doesn't get any better,
under the wings of the sky and its multi-shaded blue blessings,
don't need counting, enumerating, all kind of blending going on
the old alone days been on the mind,
those laser clouded future gazing hazing days,
when you listened to music non-stop, but never sung along,
strange though, I wept then, and weeping now,
can't quite make the connection...
guess my singing is still
just that bad*
<>
August 13, 2016
05:50pm
S.I.
https://www.google.com/search?q=leon+russell+singing+this+song+for+you&rlz;=1C9BKJA_enUS668US701&oq;=leon+russel+sing+&aq;;=chrome.2.69i57j0l3.8534j0j9&hl;=en-US&sourceid;=chrome-mobile&ie;=UTF-8
^a line borrowed fromThe Shawshank Redemption
"At the base of that wall, you'll find a rock that has no earthly business in a Maine hayfield. Piece of black, volcanic glass."
^a line borrowed fromThe Shawshank Redemption
"At the base of that wall, you'll find a rock that has no earthly business in a Maine hayfield. Piece of black, volcanic glass."
