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Mary McCray Apr 2019
(NaPoWriMo Challenge: April 3, 2019)

“Not all those who wander are lost.” -- J. R. R. Tolkien

I was an office temp for many years when I was young. All the companies: Kelly girls, Manpower, Adecco. I took innumerable tests in typing, word processing, spreadsheets.

The worst job was at a sales office for home siding. I logged complaints all day on the phone about faulty siding.

I worked at a construction site in Los Angeles, a new middle-class ghetto they were building on the Howard Hughes air strip. I worked in a trailer and had to wait until lunch break to walk a block to the bathroom in the new library.

There was one warehouse I worked in that had mice so employed a full-time cat to work alongside us. The cat left dead mice everywhere. I was always cold there.

A lot of places I was replacing someone on vacation, someone the office assumed was indispensable but there was never anything for me to do there but read. I wrote a lot of letters to pen pals and friends. Email hadn’t been invented yet. Sometimes I’d walk memos around the office. Nobody ever invited me to meetings. Be careful what you wish for. Sometimes it comes true and you end up sitting in endless meetings.

In one swanky office I prepared orders in triplicate on a typewriter. I kept messing up and having to start over. Eventually I started to enjoy this. It was a medical lab and was convinced they were doing animal testing so I left after a week.

One of my early jobs was as a receptionist in a war machine company. My contact there asked me to do “computer work” (as it was called then) but I didn’t know how to use a mac or a mouse. My contact called my agency to complain about sending out “girls without basic skills.” My agency told me not to worry about it, the war company was just trying to scam us all by paying for a receptionist to do “computer work.” So they stuck me at the switchboard up front where I found bomb-threat instructions taped under the desk.

I worked at a design store and learned a program called Word Perfect. I started typing and printing the letters to my friends. The St. Louis owner was trying to sell the company to a rich Los Angeles couple. Once, a young gay designer I admired called and referred to me as “the girl up front with the glasses.” I immediately went out and got contact lenses. Before I left, I bought a desk and a chair they were selling. Years later, I sold the desk to an Amish couple in Lititz, PA, but I still have the chair.

I once worked for a cheap couple running a plastic mold factory. The man was paranoid, cheap and houvering and I said I wouldn’t stay past two weeks. They asked me to train a new temp and I said okay. The new temp also found the owner to be paranoid, cheap and houvering and so declared to me she wouldn’t stay past the week either. She confided in me she had gotten drunk and slept with someone and was worried she was pregnant. She was freaking out because she was going through a divorce and already had two kids. I told her about the day-after-pill which she had never heard of. I don’t know if it worked because I never used it myself and I never saw her again after that to follow up.

At another office I did nothing at the front desk for three weeks, bored and reading all the Thomas Covenant novels. I would take my lunch break under a big tree to continue reading the Thomas Covenant novels.

I worked for months at a credit card company reading books and letting in visitors through the locked glass door. Week after week, the receptionist would call in sick. One young blonde woman would give me filing work. She was telling me all about her wedding she was planning which sounded pretty fun and it made me want to plan a wedding too. After a few weeks she asked me what my father did. I said he was a computer programmer. She replied that my dad sounded like somebody her dad would beat up. I was too shocked by the rudeness to say dismissively, “I seriously doubt that.” (For one, my dad wasn’t always a computer programmer.) When it became clear the woman I was replacing had abandoned her job, they asked me if I wanted to stay on. I said no, that I was moving to New York City. I wasn’t  (but I did eventually).

Some places “kept me on” like the mortgage underwriters in St. Louis. That office had permanent wood partitions between the desks, waist-high and a pretty, slight woman training to join the FBI. She fainted one day by the copier. It was there that I told my first successful joke ever. Our boss was a part-time Baptist minister and we loved him because he was able to inspire us during times of low morale. One day we saw a bug buzzing above us in a light fixture.  Before I even thought about it I said, “I guess you could say he finally saw the light.” Everybody laughed a lot and I turned bright red. I wrote my essay to Sarah Lawrence College there after hours at the one desk with a typewriter. My boss and I got laid off the same day. He helped me carry my things out to my car.

I worked at a large food company in White Plains, NY. I often came home with boxes of giveaway Capri Sun in damaged boxes. I helped a blind woman fill out her checks. She was really grouchy and I wasn’t allowed to pet her service dog. She had dusty junk all over her desk but she couldn’t see it to make it tidy. I realized then that she would never be able to use a stack of desk junk as a to-do list...because she couldn’t see it. You can’t to-do what you can’t see and how we all probably take this fact for granted with our piles of desk junk. Years later I had the same thought about to-do lists burned in phones or computer files.

They also “kept me on” at the Yonkers construction company. I was there for years. The British woman next to me was not my boss but she ordered me around a lot. She told me I looked like an old 1940s actress I had never heard of who always wore her hair in her face. I was annoyed by this compliment because when I looked the actress up on the Internet I could see it wasn’t true. At the time, everyone was just getting on the Internet and I was already addicted to eBay. I would leave meetings in the middle for three minute at a time to ****** items with my competitive late-second bids. It was my first job with email too, and I emailed many letters to all my friends all day long. One elderly man there thought it was funny to give me cigars (which I smoked socially at the time) and told me unsavory ****** facts to shock me. I thought he was harmless and funny and his attempts to unsettle me misguided because I had already grown up with two older brothers who were smelly and hellbent on unsettling me. Later the man started dating and seemed happier and I met his very nice older girlfriend at one of the laborious, day-long Christmas parties our Italian owners threw every year. Months later his girlfriend was murdered in her garage by her estranged husband. Most of the office left to go to her funeral and I felt very bad for him.

And they kept me on at the Indian arts school in Santa Fe. I loved every day I spent there, walking the halls looking at student art. I had never seen so many beautiful faces in one place. One teacher there confided in me about her troubles and I tried to be Oprah. She ended up having to take out a restraining order against a man she met online. At the trial, the man tried to attack the female judge and she awarded the teacher the longest restraining order ever awarded in Santa Fe: 100 years. He broke the restraining order one day on campus and we were all scared about where he was and if he had a gun. All around the school were rolling hills and yellow blooming chamisa and we found tarantulas in the parking lot. I was there almost a full school year until I moved away.

I was once a temp in a nursing temp office that had large oak desks and big leather chairs. The office was empty except for one other woman. The boss was on vacation and she spent all our time complaining about what an *** he was and how mistreated the nurses were. I remember feeling uncomfortable in the leather chair. The boss, who I never met, called me one day to tell me he had fired her and that I should know she was threatening to come back with a gun. When I called the agency they laughed it off. I told them I wouldn’t go back.

My favorite temp job was at a firefighting academy in rural Massachusetts. I edited training manuals along with two other temps. It was very interesting work. The academy was in the middle of the woods, down beautiful winding roads with old rock walls. Driving to work I would listen to TLC and Luther Vandross. And whenever I hear Vandross sing I still think of the Massachusetts woods. When I left, they let me have a t-shirt and I wore it for years. One of the trainers had a son who was a firefighter who asked me out on a date. I said I was moving to New York City (this time it was true) and not interested in a relationship. He insisted the date would be just as friends. He took me to Boston’s North End and we ate gnocchi while he told me how he didn’t believe it was right to hit women. This comment alarmed me. He then took me to a highrise, skyview bar downtown where he proceeded to **** my fingers. I thought about Gregg Allman and Cher’s first date where Gregg Allman ****** Cher’s fingers and how now Cher and I had something in common: the disappointment of having one’s fingers ******. My scary date didn’t want to take me home and I was living with my brother at the time, so I told him my brother was crazy and if I didn’t get back by ten o’clock my brother would freak out like a motherf&#$er. That part wasn’t true...but it worked. I made it home.

I used to be deathly afraid of talking to strangers on the phone. I used to be bored out of my mind watching the clock. I used to wish I were friends with many of the interesting people walking past my desk.

When I look back on all this and where I’ve been, it seems so random, meandering through offices in so many different cities. But it wasn’t entropy or arbitrary. I was always working on the same thing.

I was a writer.
Prompt:Write a meandering poem that takes its time to get to its point.
lmnsinner Jul 2018
“Sometimes I feel
Like I've been tied
To the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post
Good lord I feel like I'm dyin””
Allman Brothers
<•>

two words arrive unscheduled no comprehension no intention;
a great taunting for the guy who claims he plucks ‘em
from passing breezes and hazelnut trees

creation capture

meaning just a biting *******’ feeling,
Allman brothers Pandora in on it too,
playing to make sure
I’m in touch with my roustabout feelings

“Sometimes I feel
Like I've been tied
To the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post
Good lord I feel like I'm dyin'”


got it - the poems revolting
and they are...making it hard

the lesson i’m learning
the poems are the boss
you ain’t nothing but a whipping post boy
wright right what you’re given, no misgivings -
a treat you don’t deserve
you ain’t nothing but our
creature captured

forty years in the desert and maybe then
the promised land
let you know when you suffered enuf

meantime meet us and Leon in Atlantic City;
poetry ain’t nothing but rolling dice, playing craps

mostly you lose


Bastille Day 15:00
a country tune for a county boy
DC raw love Dec 2014
We lose so much talent to addiction
Some of you may not care, but I do
This is my tribute to them

Alan Wilson
Canned Heat

Jimi Hendrix
The Jimi Hendrix Experience

Janis Joplin

Jim Morrison
The Doors

Brian Cole
The Association

Billy Murcia
New York Dolls

Danny Whitten
Crazy Horse

Gram Parsons
The Stooges

Gary Thain
Uriah Heep

Elvis Presley

Gregory Herbert
Blood, Sweat & Tears

Keith Moon
The Who

Sid Vicious
*** Pistols

Lowell George
Little Feat

Jimmy McCulloch
Wings

John Bonham
Led Zeppelin

Darby Crash
Germs

James Honeyman-Scott
Pretenders

Pete Farndon
Pretenders

Paul Gardiner
Tubeway Army

Gary Holton
Heavy Metal Kids

Phil Lynott
Thin Lizzy

Andrew Wood
Mother Love Bone

Brent Mydland
Grateful Dead

Steve Clark
Def Leppard

Johnny Thunders
New York Dolls

David Ruffin
The Temptations

Kristen Pfaff
Hole

Shannon Hoon
Blind Melon

Bradley Nowell
Sublime

John Kahn
Jerry Garcia Band

Jonathan Melvoin
The Smashing Pumpkins

Billy Mackenzie
Associates

West Arkeen
The Outpatience

Nick Traina
Link 80

John Baker Saunders
Mad Season


Bobby Sheehan
Blues Traveler

Wes Berggren
Tripping Daisy

Allen Woody
The Allman Brothers Band

Carl Crack
Atari Teenage Riot

Layne Staley
Alice in Chains/Mad Seasons

Kurt Cobain
Nirvana

Dee Dee
Ramones

Robbin Crosby
Ratt

John Entwistle
The Who

Howie Epstein
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Jeremy Michael Ward
De Facto

Tim Hemensley
GOD

Dave Schulthise
The Dead Milkmen

Rick James

Kevin DuBrow
Quiet Riot

Ike Turner

Gidget Gein
Marilyn Manson

Jay Bennett
Wilco

Michael Jackson

The Rev
Avenged Sevenfold


Paul Gray
Slipknot

Mike Starr
Alice in Chains

Amy Winehouse


We are not bad people, we just have bad ways
Yet, not many understand
Have love in your heart for all
We are all one in the same
Jonny Angel Feb 2014
I remember ancient history,
back in the day,
we'd hit the ****
then sing an Allman song or two.

Sometimes we'd pile into the 'Cuda,
cruise down to see the drag review.
Them guys were beautiful
under the influence.

One of those nights,
Patrick picked up a chick
that was a dude with a ****.
It seemed like it took him a long time
to get over it, but maybe
we were wrong.

I heard he came out of
the closet years ago.
Maybe he was trying
to tell us something,
or maybe we were
just too drunk & naive
to understand such things.

Whatever the case,
those days were fun,
a time for self-discovery
& drag queen shows
viewed under the influence
of tasty ****.
LD Goodwin May 2013
Just mahogany and horsehide glue,
machine heads and a ***** or two.
Plywood top, solid sides and back,
bone and fake ivory, ebony, and shellac.

Steel and bronze wire, to make her ring.
A well placed sound hole to let her sing.
But for love or money I played here every week,
for 30 years she has earned my keep.

Four star restaurants, or beer soaked bars,
or serenading a lover under summer night stars.
A joyous birthday, sad funeral of a friend,
she's always been there, on one I can depend.

Drunken'- Dancin' New Years Eve bashes,
barbequed sun baked poolside splashes.
St. Valentine's Day love songs, wine and roses,
or a smoky old blues club that never closes.

A nursing home sing along on St. Patty's day,
a hurricane party till we all got blown away.
Christmas carols by soft candlelight,
I've played this guitar most every night.

From Florida to Canada, Vegas to NYC,
from Frank Sinatra, to Conway Twitty.
Zeppelin to Bach, JT to Pink Floyd,
anything to keep me from being employed.

One night in Nashville Greg Allman played on her,
And asked me to join him, oh what an honor.
We make people happy, we bring them together,
when I play on her I am as light as a feather.

Some fell in love, and got married from our tunes,
some nights we're alone on sugar beach dunes.
She's filled up my tip jar, and filled up my heart.
Because of this guitar my life got its start.

I've sat up with her all night, when she was sick,
changed strings a million times, broken many a pick.
Caressed her, strummed her, as she dashed my fears,
cussed her and ****** her, as she tasted my tears.

With her I wooed my lover, until she married me.
She has been my addiction, and she has set me free.
They applaud for me, but she's really the star.
I know it's just wood and wire, but she's my guitar.
###====(==O==== )###====(==O==== ) ###====(==O==== )

*For my Takamine "Lawsuit" I bought in Nashville in 1982.
Harrogate, TN  May 2013
Terry Jordan Oct 2015
We camped at the Wanee Festival                                        
                                 We came to hear Gregg Allman play
                                 We did some primitive camping
                                  But the stage was 3 miles away
                                                            ­
                                  Through the woods we walked in the darkness
                                  After Widespread Panic had played til midnight
                                   No shiny pebbles and no flashlight
                                   To help us back to our Primitive Campsite

                                    We were Hansel and Gretel just groping
                                    Night fell a long time ago
                                    We had no reference point, no direction
                                    Only darkness and fear could grow

                                    We walked all 1800 acres
                                    Of Live Oak's Suwannee Music Park
                                    Til we flagged down some park rangers
                                    Who gave us a ride home in their cart

                                    I'm just lost in the woods without you
                                    Though we started it all as a lark
                                    You left me stranded by the port-o-potties
                                     Paralyzed all alone in the dark
                                                          
                                     Forget about those cold showers
                                And no power to call or text
                                      Or the cold, and blow-up mattress blues
                                       Are we ready for 'Burning Man' next?
True story-great music but got so lost, slept very little in a leaking blow-up mattress; now he's planning to go to Burning Man!
Thomas W Case Jan 2021
If you're wondering why there's so many typos? I'm in the hospital,
Benzo'd out and on phenobarbital.
But I guess it's better than hammered drunk at home trying to give the cat a bath.
He doesn't like that band The Allman Brothers which I Blair at the side of the tub and he tends to scratch me
even with the Mr. bubble bath. Now I'll try to watch the Redskin buccaneer game, they'll always be the Redskins to me. But that could just be the benzos talking
wordvango May 2014
Poets in motion
Guitar Lord s Loud
Jimi at the Red House
riffin' proud

Sing Janis "Ball and chain"
John McLaughlin's twelve string
Edgar Johnny white as snow
broke all hearts on "Tobacco Road"

Can never forget Jimmy Page
"Highway to Heaven" is center stage
Eric "The God" "tears in heaven" played
as Santana "Abraxas" displayed
raw emotion skill complex
enough  to make one's soul reflect

And an Allman Brother, Dickie Betts
surely we shall not forget
Tom Petty learned to fly
and listening I thought
"Why can't I?"
ymmiJ Apr 2019
low hanging peaches
as the sun reaches
the windy beaches
eating juicy fruits
Ken Pepiton Mar 2023
Beans bloat the wit f'art's aches,
to ease acceptance of the winds we

make up, as crude ensamples,
of bubbles bursting to loose the essence

essential pressure to hold a bubble, apart,
as its content passes gurgling past pyloric valves,
posting notes to axions reflecting gut felt reasons

to try something, some new thing, not locked away
whole truth evident -ly holy tomes beneath the vates

old place of divination and meditation, temple ground.

Das Grund. Watch your step, settle in Jello-hello, y'ello,

who may I say is calling?

Those bubbles of being, measured with all the latest ware,
continue to pervade our manners of speaking, current terms
of endearing adjectives splattering the walls of our bubbles,

as our windows bump, and I catch you looking,
back looking to seem to wish to know, who looked first.

What does it take, to make up one's own mind,
after the riddling writers and wind fiddling poets, pass
as spirit forms from god's own duodenum, in effect.

Allman Brothers, I do believe, we smelt that smell.
But it may have been me stepping in your mud.

Pedantic note to knowing more or less,
In pagan Rome the vates resided
on the Vatican Hill, the Hill
of the Vates.

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vates>

We are currently doing as Vates did, don't you agree?
A little leaven, in the right forest, at the right season.
Fine day in my valley, Saturday. First weekend of Spring Break,
seen from a future I imagined, even then.
Man Nov 2022
you'll take advantage
till the creekbed dries
crushing roses in your hand
and they would've wilted away
anyway,  you think you're so much bigger
I've got news for you
you can barely measure up
to the men next to you
you cut a small figure
and every time you open that mouth
all respect for you just dives south
***** no-good stinker
Kurt Philip Behm May 2017
I was somewhere deep in Kansas,
  on a Triumph 69’

When your song came on the jukebox,
   and hit me from behind

I was headed for a bad place,
  and cared for nothing much

When I heard the song ‘Melissa,’
  my heart and soul were struck

Entranced, your lyrics captured me,
  like nothing had before

When you sang about ‘The Gypsy,’
  I headed for the door

But something made me turn around,
  and grab another dime

Ten more times in that diner’s booth,
  still lost within your rhyme

Now back inside the bus station,
  and sleeping on the bench

I scratch your words into the wood,
  last dollar gone and spent

My bike outside against the wall,
  the kickstand now long gone

And out of gas, my hopes have dashed,
  that unrelenting song

Waking up at ten unsettled,
  across the street I pushed

The sign said Triumph-BSA,
  the owner Mister Cush

He asked, “What’s with your motor,”
   I said “nothing—out of gas,

“But worse I’m out of money,
   can I sell the bike for cash

“Would you please just buy my Triumph,
  I know it’s old and worn

“It got me here through seven states,
   runs great both cold and warm”

“I’ll pay three hundred on the spot,
  on that can we agree?”

We walked back up inside his shop,
  three bills he handed me

I thought about a bus ride home,
  my thumb looked more in line

Facing East on old route #50,
  my heart in deep decline

The first big rig that came along,
  was bound for York Pa.

The driver said “If you like dogs,
  I’ll take you on your way”

In York I caught a fast ride out,
  two ‘dodgers’ going North

And got back home with hat in hand,
  your song to guide me forth

Two years then passed, I met my wife,
  four more and our first child

And we named her ‘Sweet Melissa,’
  her dad back from the wilds

Now forty years have come and gone,
  my beard and hair both gray

I owe you Gregg, and always will,
  your song, her name—that day

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
           For Gregg Allman
I Sent This To Gregg Last March,
It's on His Website. We Spent Two
Days Together In Richmond Va. In  A Blizzard In 1982
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2019
I was somewhere deep in Kansas,
on a Triumph 69’

When your song came on the jukebox,
and hit me from behind

I was headed for a bad place,
and cared for nothing much

When I heard the song ‘Melissa,’
my heart and soul were struck

Entranced, your lyrics captured me,
  like nothing had before

When you sang about ‘The Gypsy,’
I headed for the door

But something made me turn around,
and grab another dime

Ten more times in that diner’s booth,
still lost within your rhyme

Now back inside the bus station,
and sleeping on the bench

I scratch your words into the wood,
last dollar gone and spent

My bike outside against the wall,
the kickstand now long gone

And out of gas, my hopes have dashed,
that unrelenting song

Waking up at ten unsettled,
across the street I pushed

The sign said Triumph-BSA,
the owner Mister Cush

He asked, “What’s with your motor,”
I said “nothing—out of gas,

“But worse I’m out of money,
can I sell the bike for cash

“Would you please just buy my Triumph,
I know it’s old and worn

“It got me here through seven states,
runs great both cold and warm”

“I’ll pay three hundred on the spot,
on that can we agree?”

We walked back up inside his shop,
three bills he handed me

I thought about a bus ride home,
my thumb looked more in line

Facing East on old route #50,
my heart in deep decline

The first big rig that came along,
was bound for York Pa.

The driver said “If you like dogs,
I’ll take you on your way”

In York I caught a fast ride out,
two ‘dodgers’ going North

And got back home with hat in hand,
your song to guide me forth

Two years then passed, I met my wife,
four more and our first child

And we named her ‘Sweet Melissa,’
her dad back from the wilds

Now forty years have come and gone,
my beard and hair both gray

I owe you Gregg, and always will,
your song, her name—that day

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

For Gregg Allman
I Sent This To Gregg In March 2016, It's on His Website.
We Spent Two Days Together In Richmond Va. In A
Blizzard In 1982.
KV Srikanth Mar 2021
The Beatles
with their Staple
Abbey road and Apple
Took the world by storm
Listening to them became a norm

Allman brothers
With or without Duanne
Greatest guitarist of all time
Second In that line
Every chord and riff
Rock music bliss

Jethrotull farmers name
Century later adopted the same
Progressive rock band
From England
Worldwide name and fame

Grateful dead a lifestyle
Following them a matter of pride
Defenition of Counterculture
Ken Kesey and Acid trips
Different music  at different gigs
Live concerts filled the year
From the Vaults into the Hearts

Every fans first doorway
Plant and Page gifted
Song of the century
Rendered with no hurry
The Stairway to heaven
Rock music destination
Nine Albums of Led Zeppelin

Music band called
Themselves The Band
Cover of Time Magazine
Represented  of the Rock Scene
Last Waltz on Thanksgiving
Their Music still ringing

Santana name and Band
Guitar his magic wand
Black magic woman
The world fell for that one
Added the Mexican blend
Helped create A legend

John Mayall ear for music
Matched ear for talent
Godfather of future legends
In his line up at the same time

Walt Becker and Donald Fagen
Rock and Jazz band
Steely Dan
Used Sessions musicians
A  musical revolution
Antiheroes of the Seventies
Christened by the Rolling stone magazine
Two against nature
Album of the year
Grammy in Order

Slow hand and Eric Clapton
Names dont go hand in hand
Greatest guitarist of the generation
Clapton is God
Phrase invented
Headlined many a group
Blind Faith Cream to name a few

Traffic Quatret
Band dissolved
Music evolved
Break up in line up
No low in music flow
Winwood and Capaldi in tow

Emerson lake and Palmer
Formerly of The Nice King Crimson and Atomic Rooster
Isle of Wight
Showcased their might
Together for the decade
Their albums  the most bootlegged

No Record collection devoid
The Albums of Pink Floyd
Every Studio Albums sold
Multiple platinum to behold
Live Concerts and Lighting
Divine in music and vision
Most popular in Music history
Their position in the charts
Tells the story
Made their date with history
Berlin wall a sign of division
Their song the Anthem of Unification
Popularity and longevity
A very few can hope
Change of tastes in
Generations fewer can cope

Creedence clearwater revival
John Fogerty and his brother
Joined hands with two other
War in Vietnam
Protesting in Album form
Words mightier than Swords
Lyrics heightened Crisis
Washington's biggest
Musical nemesis

Crosby Stills Nash and Young
All star team of talents
That sung
Dallas Taylor on the Drums
Dream team of Music
Created Classics

Justin Hayward and his Flute
Together formed the Moody blues
Anyone in love and suffering
Found their feelings expressed in
Nights in white Satin
Played in every household
Across the Globe

Best Drummer seated
Difference between two beats
The fastest
Keith Moon and The Who
Loudest Band in history
Equipment destroyed after
A new legacy
Greatest singer in Daltery
Greatest Bassist in Entwhistle
Lost Moon lost their muscle

Rainbow theater Concert
Earned them the Guinness record
Globes loudest band
Psychedelic and Progressive
For decades active
100 million records worldwide
Gods of heavy metal
The pride for any record label
The music of Deep Purple

The power trio
Formed in Ontario
Rush the band
Complex and fantasy
Hand in hand
Every member A winner
Every poll on Every Book
Proficient with Instrument
Volume of their talent
Topped the charts
Captured hearts
Active for  years
Till tragedy stuck Peart

Jefferson Airplane
Before name change
Summer of love
Defined by
Surrealistic Pillow
Headlined Woodstock
And Montery pop
Every list by Rolling Stone magazine
Names carved for eternity

Uriah Heep
Fictional in Copperfield
Written by Dickens
Real in music
Formed in England
5 decades and 24 Albums
Strived for originality
Showcased their capability
Arena sized stadiums
Still filled to capacity
45 million records
Enduring popularity

Eagles from California
Critical and Commercial
Success in their formula
Top of the Charts and Grammy Awards
Back to back
Very few can hope for

Drummer and Bassist
Names combined
To name the band
Fleetwood Mac
Albums and Singles
Topped the Charts
Both sides of the Atlantic
Covers of their songs
Made many Superstars
Performed together on the occasion
Of the inauguration of
President Bill Clinton


Jim Morrison the lizard king
freedom for humanity his dream
Voice and rendition a class apart
Every song an anthem
Kindred spirit at the very core
With Ray Robbie and John formed The Doors
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2019
I didn’t know it at the time,
but my misspent youth was planned

          The training ground for what I’d write,
then hard to understand

The many schools, the teachers chides,
expulsions my reward

Postgraduate work for future truth,
all voices untoward

The risks were high, survival mined,
Shangi-La, a vagrant’s room

My pen disclaimed, all actions shamed,
flat broke one afternoon

From the diner’s window I heard the song
that turned my life around

As Gregg Allman sang ‘Melissa,’
my true destiny was found

And today I harbor no regrets,
there’s no one left to blame

As I write the words for me hard one
—my sinful past reclaimed

(Strafford Pennsylvania: July, 2019)
    ‘Thank You, Gregg—I Miss You’
Yes, believe me you,
I (also considered the best karaoke singer
for the go-go's)
putting Shabrina Leonita to shame
back in two thousand and twenty one
once flew high as the eagles
a grateful dead foo fighting,
earth wind and fire, beastie boy adult,

thus hopefully explaining why
I joined blue oyster cult
begetting the following rhyme I exult
while exuding angelic,
beatific, electric, fantastic,
idyllic, Judaic, kaleidoscopic
halo shimmering galt
garnering heavenly indault.

Without wearing a helm mitt on my head,
yet did suffer inxs
of welts the size of cranberries
amidst talking heads, whose traffic
mishap of cars unable to stp,
thus this passenger indistinguishable from
avast metallica skidrow populated
with heart shaped pearl jam wreckage
upon smashing pumpkins everywhere
with an evanescence shimmering
like spilt midnight oil, which dire straits

charged the super ***** ping
man-made debacle into kiss
from grateful dead village people whose
beatle brows scrunched tight
creating black crows imprimatur
resembling little feet easily mistaken
for hair line fractures,
which strongly appealed to the goo goo dolls,
who lived three doors down
purportedly within which

resided a queen latifah
(an iron maiden ruling america and europe)
plus when asked for bread, she point
in one direction, mere rolling stones away
the black eyed peas, whose ac/dc power
crowded house did feel as if 10,000 maniacs
did squeeze into a tiny black hole,
thus forsaking experiencing nirvana,
with near asphyxiation attributable
to lack of air supply so carpenters got called

to expand and golong
with a gilt emblazoned cupola –
just for kix, and to lure
a silly rabbit doing trix
any wonder full stevie adore,
which teamsters included
skilled one tradesman
roof WinWrite, these collective souls,
a veritable culture club unto themselves
off phish shill lee within the a similar
reo speedwagon as sly and the family stone
choosing king crimson to manage the influx

qua motley crue, which jane's addiction
kept ideal bad company for alice n chains,
the latter whose enslavement
akin to cinderella deprived such indigo girls
to jet set with their sought after
prince charming (even resigning themselves
to a Jethro tull type), or a chap
similar to the garden variety allman brothers,
who didst serve as Lumineers
doobie brothers morale booster

to an imaginary dragon (which beastie boy
foo fighting animals owned
by the legendary kings of leon),
whose mythic storied
BuzzFeed  incorporated their encounter
with blondie (who donned a golden earring),
which Dixie chick happened to be hail a van
driven by the everly brothers,
which latter escaped be combing caged
like monkeys in a zoo,

and carved out a niche
as beach boys blessedly banished,
where they fed on red hot chili peppers
dredged via bay city rollers
to sustain their being a survivor,
and welcomed by experiencing rebirth
viz genesis, whar
mambo kings proffered palliative
to smooth kinks concomitant with cast off
as a foreigner on maroon 5.

Zealousness yowled x wise,
venturesomely urged viz thighs
sensuousness roared qua prize of nascent
marvelous libidinal kisses jeweled iridescent
hides genital fulfillment
explodes delicious capacious brides’
atonement breathtakingly conceding conception
decides elopement fashions gustatory hoopla
insides jot kickstarter
latching mightily nourishing oxides
maids visited  unmet
testosterone satiation roared.

The brothers Gibb
lit roches ****** madness
jumpstarting, mustering puckering,
snickering at barenaked lady
male fraud betraying faithful missus,
(a veritable madonna)
meowed lamentably
analogous to cat stevens
kindling joyousness indeed.

Hotmail garnered fingerhut egghead
drew capitalone BuzzFeed amen.
I was somewhere deep in Kansas
on a Triumph 69’
When your song came on the jukebox
and hit me from behind
I was headed for a bad place
and cared for nothing much
When I heard the song ‘Melissa,’
my heart and soul were struck
Entranced, your lyrics captured me
  like nothing had before
When you sang about ‘The Gypsy,’
I headed for the door
But something made me turn around
and grab another dime
Ten more times in that diner’s booth,
still lost within your rhyme
Now back inside the bus station
and sleeping on the bench
I scratch your words into the wood,
last dollar gone and spent
My bike outside against the wall,
the kickstand was long gone
And out of gas, my hopes were dashed…
that unrelenting song
Waking up at ten unsettled,
across the street I pushed
The sign said Triumph-BSA,
the owner Mister Cush
He asked, “What’s with your motor,”
I said “Nothing—out of gas
“But worse I’m out of money,
can I sell the bike for cash?
“Would you please just buy my Triumph,
I know it’s old and worn
“It got me here through seven states,
runs great both cold and warm”
“I’ll pay three hundred on the spot,
on that can we agree?”
We walked back up inside his shop,
three bills he handed me
I thought about a bus ride home,
my thumb looked more in line
Facing East on old route 50,
my heart in deep decline
The first big rig that came along
was bound for York Pa.
The driver said “If you like dogs,
I’ll take you on your way”
In York I caught a fast ride out,
two ‘dodgers’ going North
And got back home with hat in hand,
your song to guide me forth
Two years then passed, I met my wife,
four more and our first child
We named her ‘Sweet Melissa,’
her dad back from the wilds
Now forty years have come and gone,
my beard and hair both gray
I owe you Gregg, and always will,
your song, her name—that day

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

For Gregg Allman
I sent this to Gregg in May, 2017.  It's on his website.
We spent two days together in Richmond Virginia in
a blizzard in 1982.
Kurt Philip Behm Nov 2023
I was somewhere deep in Kansas
on a Triumph 69’
When your song came on the jukebox
and hit me from behind
I was headed for a bad place
and cared for nothing much
When I heard the song ‘Melissa,’
my heart and soul were struck
Entranced, your lyrics captured me
  like nothing had before
When you sang about ‘The Gypsy,’
I headed for the door
But something made me turn around
and grab another dime
Ten more times in that diner’s booth,
still lost within your rhyme
Now back inside the bus station
and sleeping on the bench
I scratch your words into the wood,
last dollar gone and spent
My bike outside against the wall,
the kickstand was long gone
And out of gas, my hopes were dashed…
that unrelenting song
Waking up at ten unsettled,
across the street I pushed
The sign said Triumph-BSA,
the owner Mister Cush
He asked, “What’s with your motor,”
I said “Nothing—out of gas
“But worse I’m out of money,
can I sell the bike for cash?
“Would you please just buy my Triumph,
I know it’s old and worn
“It got me here through seven states,
runs great both cold and warm”
“I’ll pay three hundred on the spot,
on that can we agree?”
We walked back up inside his shop,
three bills he handed me
I thought about a bus ride home,
my thumb looked more in line
Facing East on old route 50,
my heart in deep decline
The first big rig that came along
was bound for York Pa.
The driver said “If you like dogs,
I’ll take you on your way”
In York I caught a fast ride out,
two ‘dodgers’ going North
And got back home with hat in hand,
your song to guide me forth
Two years then passed, I met my wife,
four more and our first child
We named her ‘Sweet Melissa,’
her dad back from the wilds
Now forty years have come and gone,
my beard and hair both gray
I owe you Gregg, and always will,
your song, her name—that day

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

For Gregg Allman
I sent this to Gregg in May, 2017.  It's on his website.
We spent two days together in Richmond Virginia in
a blizzard in 1982.
of scorpion stinging poison us marriage,
whereby the missus and I
experienced genesis as
mama and papa respectively.

(jest kibitizing)

thus explaining why I
(a sixty five year young adult,
albeit beatle browed)
joined blue oyster cult
to live out my dream as
a Norwegian bachelor farmer
yours truly doth exult.

Without wearing a helm mitt on my head,
yet did suffer inxs
of welts the size of cranberries
amidst talking heads, whose traffic
mishap of cars unable to stp,
thus this passenger indistinguishable from
avast metallica skidrow populated
with heart shaped pearl jam wreckage
upon smashing pumpkins everywhere
with an evanescence shimmering
like spilt midnight oil, which dire straits

charged the super ***** ping
man-made debacle into kiss
from grateful dead village people whose
beatle brows scrunched tight
creating black crows imprimatur
resembling little feet easily mistaken
for hairline fractures,
which strongly appealed
to the goo goo dolls,
who lived three doors down
purportedly within which

resided a queen latifah
(an iron maiden ruling america)
plus when asked for bread, she point
in one direction, mere rolling stones away
the black eyed peas, whose ac/dc power
crowded house did feel
as if 10,000 maniacs
did squeeze into a tine hole,
thus forsaking experiencing nirvana,
with near asphyxiation attributable
to lack of air supply
so carpenters got called

to expand and golong
with a gilt emblazoned cupola –
just for kix, and to lure
any wonder full steve adore,
which teamsters included
skilled one tradesman
roof WinWrite, these collective souls,
a veritable culture club unto themselves
off phish shill lee within the a similar
reo speedwagon as sly and the family stone
choosing king crimson
to manage the influx

qua motley crue, which jane's addiction
kept ideal bad company for alice n chains,
the latter whose enslavement
akin to cinderella deprived such indigo girls
to jet set with their sought after
prince charming (even resigning themselves
to a Jethro tull type), or a chap
similar to the garden variety allman brothers,
who didst serve to Lumineers
doobie brothers morale booster

to an imaginary dragon
(which beastie boy
foo fighting animals owned
by the legendary kings of leon),
whose mythic storied
BuzzFeed  incorporated their encounter
with blondie (who donned a golden earring),
which Dixie chick happened to be hail a van
driven by the everly brothers,
which latter escaped be combing caged
like monkeys in a zoo,

and carved out a niche
as beach boys blessedly banished,
where they fed on red hot chili peppers
dredged via bay city rollers
to sustain their being a survivor,
and welcomed by experiencing rebirth
viz genesis, whar
mambo kings proffered palliative
to smooth kinks concomitant with cast off
as a foreigner on maroon 5.

Zealousness yowled x wise,
venturesomely urged viz thighs
sensuousness roared qua prize of nascent
marvelous libidinal kisses jeweled iridescent
hides genital fulfillment
explodes delicious capacious brides’
atonement breathtakingly conceding conception
decides elopement fashions gustatory hoopla
insides jot kickstarter
latching mightily nourishing oxides
maids visited  unmet
testosterone satiation roared.

Queefer madness puckering of naked missus
(a veritable madonna)
meowed lamentably kindling joyousness indeed.

Hotmail garnered fingerhut egghead
drew capitalone BuzzFeed amen.

— The End —