My life is full
Of hollow wood
And 4 strings

My ukelele
Is a better cure for depression
Than any drug

You've taught me to sing
You've taught me to laugh
You've taught me to be alone
And not to be lonely

You hear all of my bad thoughts
And hide them away from me
Where they stay
Forever trapped as I play

Every scratch
Every dent
Every broken string
Every note off key
Has changed me
And fixed me
And restrung me
And painted me

Until I'm like new

So, I'm bad with a ukelele:
clinkcliinkcliink-- it doesn't agree with me
clinkPAKclink-- still no good
PAKPAKclink-- I need food
PAKPAKPAAAAK-- gone.

So, I found you:
My eyes seemed to deceive me;
I counted the strings, like onetwothreefour
Cliiink-- "lalalala~"
Didn't know there was a fifth.
Lalalala~
I love you.

Like a character hoarding advises like jewelry
from a story like Fantastic Beasts, what do you think
what are the best life advises you have hoarded so far?

Sharing some of mine before they get stuck
in another schedule in the slaughterhouse inventory:
"Wisest is he that knows he does not know"
"Just live your life"
"Sing in Full Voice, Until Then"
"What are you doing here?"
"What is your plan?"
"Eat first"

Do not worry we have better villains
and heroes now than long time ago, I told my brother.
In turn, he made a song on a ukelele
after his little one cried and hid away the broken
CD collection of her brother. They called it together, the
"Last Supper Constellations".
His child said, "If there was a Creator. I would like to think He or She, like you or mama, would be kind. Would not that be swell?"

My brother shared with us one advise from his favorite collection,
"My friend had a family filled with orphans. Even when they could no longer afford to adopt, they continued to adopt children. I did not understand before, but I also did not forget his story." #

R. T. Rybak (third) Verse:

/
Y'all still follow Rybak, right?/
Isn't it wicked cool/
When he puts those verses out on Facebook to give all of us the scoop!
I still subscribe today/
Always stuff I like to know/
I can't remember them word for word but could probably emulate his flow:

"No parking on that side tonight/
Or surely you'll be towed/
If you're driving on The Southide then I think you oughta know /
On Hennepin south of Lake Street/
You shouldn't park for any time/
From 9 o'clock this morning 'til after six o'clock tonight.
And for this inconvenience/
My friends, you'll never know/
How sorry that I am to say, it's time that I must go"


I hit @Slug, @Prince, and even Master @Yoda himself in the verses! They have their own choruses too but you gotta wait to hear them! I'm recording what I got so far in about an hour or so, so I should have a demo for you this week!

This was the original freestyle  in #Uptown on Sunday morning:
http://youtu.be/S1DMSLzji1s

#Minneapolis

You try to play me like a fool...

But, I'm not as dumb as you.

You're too pretentious..

Too hipster.

Stop pretending that you are perfect

You can..

     act
              sing

**But, I was getting so sick of that ******* ukelele.

A little slice of the pie
I try to consume but I
throw it up every time.

Bulimic the scenic
route I take.
No mistake I meant to regurgitate.
Choking down lies, smiling like it taste great.
Get another helping of the American pie plate.

Washed down
with whiskey, strong and brown
like the strong and brown brothers
that scalped heads and used skins for covers.

Good morning, America!
Ignore the hysteria.
Pay attention to the sensations
on the surface area

Cap'n crunch
is more important Captains getting crunched
in a 13 year war we started off a hunch.

If you pay attention to the news
notice they ignore the trues

like the flammable water coming from your hose
or the fact you can't afford your children's clothes

We're buying apps and devices for $1200,maybe,
instead of $20 to buy a real ukelele

You see, we pay companies
to do things
because we're conditioned to be
to lazy when DIY was the real American dream.

It seems as if
I have no time
for time.
I do not make enough time
to read all the books I have bought or
learn something genuinely new on guitar.
my short efforts on learning the ukelele
violin and piano have failed.
Not enough time to study and understand
philosophy, or read
over history
Not enough time to dedicate to both school and art,
Not enough ardency for my job.
I have fallen into mediocrity
I resent it. I resent it so.
My album that I am recording is not good enough.
My reading habits are almost nonexistent
My photos are starting to look the same
I used to be above the rest but
they have caught up and are now excelling pass me.
Where am I then?
Am I just the typical hipster philosopher musician
Who’s greatest work will only be seen through
the narrow window of a tumblr poem?
And oh look, another aggravated, angsty poem
on tumblr, how special.
Frankly, I do not know how to balance it all.
And deep down I know even if I found a way,
I might cease to care.
And however many years from now, even if
my album is on the top charts
I have read dozens of books
And learned and experienced so much
I think I will always believe
That I do not know, or do
enough.

All the policemen, saloonkeepers and efficiency experts in Toledo
  knew Bern Dailey; secretary ten years when Whitlock was mayor.
Pickpockets, yeggs, three card men, he knew them all and how they flit
  from zone to zone, birds of wind and weather, singers, fighters,
  scavengers.

The Washington monument pointed to a new moon for us
  and a gang from over the river sang ragtime to a ukelele.
The river mist marched up and down the Potomac, we hunted
  the fog-swept Lincoln Memorial, white as a blond woman's arm.
We circled the city of Washington and came back home four o'clock in the morning,
  passing a sign: House Where Abraham Lincoln Died, Admission Cents.

I got a letter from him in Sweden and I sent him a postcard from Norway ..
  every newspaper from America ran news of "the flu."

The path of a night fog swept up the river to the Lincoln Memorial
  when I saw it again and alone at a winter's end, the marble in the mist
  white as a blond woman's arm.

From the carpet floor of the living room,
I peer down the low-lit hall:
a ukelele and flaming lips song.
On my elbow, I seesaw,
waiting to hear that tiny voice
from the other end of the call.

Father sings to daughter
about the darkness of the world
and Yoshimi, the warrior
who has to be the strongest girl.
She must stand between
paper doll and machine,
to make a better world.

Little girl, you cannot know
all the dangers up ahead--
the mountain with the steepest climb
is your path to tread,
a Kracken under your boat at sea
is your ghost to slay in the end--
so don't look up and don't look down
and make Time a dear, old friend.

Set out when winds catch your sail,
let the land beneath you go.
Cast nets wide, take on the gale,
and when it gets bad, just row.
Row until you can't,
then look to shore
for the lighthouse that you know.
He's been waiting there on the sand;
he never let you go.

Set anchor there and stay a while.
You were fearful or forgot the smile
he saves for you.
But no matter how far you've gotten,
no matter the wrong or right you do,
a father's love is hard and sure--
an anchor to steady, a calm to settle
the storm that chases you.

And when you feel uncertain,
don’t make yourself a ghost.
He is imperfect, and may forget
you’re at the other end of the rope,
and the one that he needs most.
I'll tell you how I know:
if he ever lost his little girl
his heart could never be whole.
She is a part of who he has become,
even when it doesn’t show.

A tiny voice comes through the wire,
singing, chirping, silently mouthing,
like the changing glimmer of fire.
It's not yet quite what it will be
but it is hers and will inspire
with a lightness that comes steadily.
From the carpet floor, elbow-propped,
it could be any other day,
father and daughter making their way.


So I wrote this down just to say:
daughters are stronger than they know;
their hearts break quick in the undertow.
Without preamble or self-defeat,
when it’s your turn to make salt sweet,
the other end of the rope will show,
for a daughter’s love is nestled deep
in the strength she learns from you.
And nothing can strengthen that bond more
than what you’ve both been through.