Like water, like flowing rivulets,
notes fly from fingers fast on frets.
Slippery sinuous shimmering tones
(complemented by brash bluesy Bones).
Like storm’s thunder and lightning a chord
brings the sky to us on earth—
or is it that we fly , then die until the rebirth
in gentle reverb of a note two octaves higher?
Strange how rain coexists with fire.
Drench us in the cascade born from your desire.

It's a quiet little love,
Doesn't have a lot to say,
But it works its quiet magic
Without penance, everyday.
It listens without judgment,
It shares both joy and pain,
It never hides itself away
When sunshine turns to rain.

The movements are so subtle
That she oft forgets it's there;
still it moves to lift her spirits
Any time and anywhere.
It's not what she's been looking for
But when push comes to shove,
She'll find a certain comfort in
That quiet little love.

I dreamed about you just last night.
Woke up, and the world's just not right.
My head hurts from the blast of daylight
My heart hurts but I play I'm alright.
I pick up as the day rolls on,
Chin up although my face is long
Fresh reminder you're really gone
I feel weak from acting this strong.

I'm doing well enough, you'd be proud.
I've learned to walk against the crowd.
I don't play my music as loud.
Feet on the ground, head in the clouds.
I remember all that you told me.
Each praise, each time you'd scold me.
Trying to live to be an old me.
Trying not to become a cold me.

The hardest part of life is that it ends,
That we say goodbye to kin and friends,
That's why I work on making amends,
Instead of keeping up with the trends.
Though you taught me to be a man,
I feel like a child now and then.
I face life with a will and a plan, but
I'd trade it all just to hear you again.

I move on, man, I'm strong enough.
I've been doing this long enough.
I've sung my old sad song enough;
Now I shut up when the road is rough.
But if it's weakness that I cry at night,
It's not a point that I'll try to fight.
I feel weak, and my chest feels tight,
I need to hear you say I'll be alright.

To eat or not to eat, that is the question.
A doughnut, ******, airy I’ll consume--
adjust my diet later to make room--
or falsely reject pastries’ sweet delight
while bingeing pasta deep into the night?
Doughnut, thou art satisfying, sweetly
filling morsel, savored now discreetly—
perhaps a little midday’s sugar craving
is better solaced, hunger I’ll be staving
off, resisting better night time craves.
‘Tis better, easier to have the faves;
by portions small on calories I’ll save,
and skip on other dishes that don’t taste
as sweet and crispy, but go straight to waist.

Amber was an atheist,
she thought the world was dumb as hell.
Britney was a botanist,
who had a fertilizer smell.
Candice was a coroner,
a scary passion for the stiffs.
Diana was a drummer chick,
that knew a few guitar riffs.

Evelyn was evil, man,
all leather suits and chains and whips.
Farrah was a therapist,
got in my brain with swinging hips.
Greta was a gunslinger,
she'd give most anything a shot.
Hannah was a homebody-
shy as hell, but twice as hot.

Iris was an Ivy Leaguer,
thought I was a total fool.
Janice was a juggler,
who liked to play with power tools.
Kimmy taught karate,
who dated me just for the kicks.
Louise was a lyricist,
who wrote about how guys were *****.

Marilyn was mostly mean,
she liked to fight and then make up.
Nancy was so negative,
I had no choice but to break up.
Opal was an occultist,
who liked to gossip with the dead.
Paula was a *******,
that made me pay to come to bed.

Queenie was inquisitive,
the questions were too much to bear.
Rosie was a recluse
who never shaved or brushed her hair.
Sidney was a sinful sort,
with toys and gadgets 'neath the bed.
Tina was a twisted chick,
with thirteen voices in her head.

Ursula was uber-cool,
always on the latest trends.
Vicky was on Vicodin,
and we all know how that one ends.
Wanda was a wanderer,
that left to join a circus troupe.
Xena the exhibitionist
liked to do it on the stoop.

Yolanda was young and fine,
and nearly cost me everything.
Zoey was a Zombie fan,
she got hot when he would sing.
I'd like to say I've settled down,
but since the alphabet is done,
I'm gonna met an Ann or Anita,
and give it all another run.