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#jukebox
Hearing the words but they don’t come out my mouth. I can’t work up the nerve To ask her to dance and maybe buy her a drink, I think I might throw up. Another song, hope I’m not wrong, I’m leaning on the jukebox. Standing in place like nobody is there, I can’t believe myself. A million reasons I should go over there But I hide in my cup. Another song, hope I’m not wrong, I’m leaning on the jukebox. I’m pleading with the jukebox.
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Mar 19, 2020
Mar 19, 2020 at 4:15 AM UTC
Jukebox Hero
We lock eyes across the bar Hit pool ***** with sticks Clink glasses filled with drinks And dance badly to songs on the jukebox We buy shots with our friends Gossip on the stairs Hug when the night ends The student soundtrack to our love story
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Mar 10, 2020
Mar 10, 2020 at 5:01 PM UTC
Strangers
remember when music was pure & uncut, when we were all users trying to survive? addicted to the crack-le of the needle as it hit the 45? back when the natural high of heart & soul was enough to suffice? we’re just some junkies looking to score excuse me mister, could you spare a dime?
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May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 6:10 PM UTC
Jukebox Junkies
there are times when all you can feel is nothing no rhyme or reason no rhythm no melody not a single note in sight no colour to be heard no breeze to savour although the aftertaste is bittersweet so you try them on feeling after feeling discarded on the floor in a pile of ***** laundry the broken records and then they spin out of control there's no order and no queue the tapes won't rewind the sink is still broken your words still sting the jukebox remains silent empty.
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May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 8:42 PM UTC
the jukebox
a moon on dusk flattery would sprinkle Saturday to swing in the auto tunes and flash the songs heard with ear and capture her rhythm with the exposé surreptitious in a wager of synergy
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Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 8:55 AM UTC
bach house
The pile is ever ready whatever type of music we dig...a ditty, old songs, contemporary...all in a jiffy, instruments will be playing words, vocalizing all feelings maybe, a song of calm coming before, or after the storm... ..... Notes hover above the piled 45s look closely...find your desired jive, let's find our favorite tunes and take turns in dropping coins, record is pulled out...shortly, our song will play hold disruptive elements at bay because..you and i, we're gonna sway as a full moon....rises from the bay ..... allow our feelings to speak while we're cheek to cheek, as much as we want, we may croon, after we dance, maybe we'll swoon the world is ours...we'll be alright "there'll be...no more lonely nights!" ..... Sally © Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan September 4, 2017
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Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 4:08 AM UTC
No More Lonely Nights
Something in us shivers Slides up our throat Slick Tasting like metal, crushed rain-bugs we can almost smell Cascading along our nerves They are so dreadfully taut They feel like a stranger's body In the dark pub, in the corner with few couples dancing to a jukebox.
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Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 3:48 PM UTC
Jukebox
A boy he was Long, long ago As he glided into the chromed and teal druggist shop 1950s it was Vintage years Women in pert dresses Men in sharp taupe suits Filled the shop with a smoky manner On that summer Sunday afternoon Fan bladed just a-turnin' Right through time itself He saw this box before Jeweled, valuable big music box Been here not too long Breathing in a flavored breath He saw another it The black round of pure bliss "Blue Suede Shoes" by Elvis Presley The white letterin' said Letter G Number 4 Hands ***** cold metal from warm pockets Slipping them into the maiden's shelter Fingers to buttons, Arm to record Music to shop "Well, it's one for the money, Two for the show, Three to get ready, Now go, cat, go." Floated in mass commodity Away the ears and mind blew in the wind Far from his hometown Far from his school And far from everything he already knew... Daydream ended too soon for his comfort The boy stared at the flashy box And spoke a quiet goodbye Tile guided him out the ringing door Concrete guided him home Where now the older him Lives crooked, but happy With a dear old woman who loves him more than anything else And a jukebox With many records in it But one is still on top "Blue Suede Shoes" by Elvis Presley In chipped, faded lettering
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Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
Old Jukebox