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Randy Vera Dec 2013
"Here Made of Gone" for  Isabella Stewart Gardner
Lyrics By Randy Vera
Music By: Randy Vera and Anthony J. Resta  
http://bopnique.com/anthony-j-resta-and-randall-vera-finalists-john-lennon

LYRICS :
Vermeer, Rembrandt, Manet, Degas, from my three thousand year old Chinese KU, I toast you. 

Mrs. Jack, I am your Bronze Eagle. I cut the painting at the frame – thieves by any other name.

Mrs. Jack with handcuffs and *****, I overcame your walls. Your collection’s complete.
Titian's Europa still hangs. The mirror to my:

Piece de la resistance. I’m your creme de la creme. I’m the John with the Procures on the wall in Vermeer’s concert.
Here, made of gone. 

Mrs Jack, I’m your new William James. Through your kindness, you support me, in Dutch Room empty frames.
Like John Singer Sargent, I toil between your walls. I am Vermeer’s "corn flower blue," indescribable. 
The metaphysical: Known unknown!

St Patrick’s Day 1990, I’m in Boston in the Fenway. For my penance, I’ll go to Saint John’s, drop to my knees, and like you, scrub the tiles clean.

Titian's Europa still hangs, the mirror to my: piece de La resistance. I’m your creme de la creme. I’m the John with the Procures on the wall in Vermeer’s concert. Here made of gone. 

Where language fails that where art triumphs. The interloper between camps of reason and dreams. I’m an event not cognition. Like any event stored in canvas, paper, pen ,or ink.

Oh Mrs Jack I so love your "Head Band." I’m also a Redsox fan. I loved the Champagne and donuts, and thank you for the paintings.
Artwork from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston is still missing. Mrs Jack was one of a kind, an American original in every way. Her house, "Fenway Court" is today the Museum which still holds one of the most valuable collections in North America. Titian's "The **** Of Europa" hangs in a room across from the pilfered Dutch room. A Michelangelo is a few steps away in the hall behind it next to Napoleon's battle flag. In the hall below are some of Dante's original manuscripts. Too many magnificent works to list. Botticelli, Matisse, Degas and John Singer Sargent's masterpiece "The Ruckus" are still there. The bad guys took the only seascape attributed to the Dutch master Rembrandt: "The Storm On The Sea Of Galilee" (I saw it at a HS field trip in 1988, almost a year to the day before it went missin) A list of rest of the missing Art is in this fine report from Boston's NPR station: http://onpoint.wbur.org/2010/02/24/stolen-art
The FBI questioned me while I was researching "Mrs. Jack" and the heist.  They thought I was a little crazy.  I told them I'm just a poet doing research for a song. I was a teen on March 17 1990, the night of the heist. I have no info beyond this song)

Mrs. Jack built Fenway Court to her specs. The art she hand picked. The glass roof? Ya, her idea. She wanted the forces of life and hope to flow out.
The old Boston Arena is in Fenway Court's  back yard. Any event in Boston was held there at the time. Fenway Park is less than a mile away.  
Mrs. Jack inspiered 4 novels that we can be certain of. The tabloids loved her.
Randy Vera Dec 2013
"Dust And Bones" lyrics by Randy Vera 2011 (BMI) 

English Translation for Italian lines in italics 
                       (A Tango in D-minor)
Recorded at Studio Bopnique, Jan 2012, produced by Anthony J. Resta

When I am dust/
Quando io Sono Ossa/ (When I am bones)
Un Sonno Piu Tranquillo (I will sleep most peaceful) 
In the city's catacombs/
For I knew life eternal/
When once she ooooi suresse a me /
(Smiled at me)
Non temo la mia Morte./
(I no longer fear my death)
for that moment, I was king/ 
The dank and cold under stone roads/
shall be my mansion by the sea/
For I knew her kindness/ 
In estate il balcone/
*(on summer's balcony) 
Now, I am not a huge man

I'm not large by any means

In fact it is surprising

I still wear normal jeans

My pants don't have elastics

I still use normal towels

But, my BMI stats tell me

I'm a word that has three vowels.

It started just this morning

When I got upon the scale

After getting back my numbers

I felt like a beached whale

Our scale is something special

Uplifitng messages it did send

Today when I stood on it

It said, is it you and your fat friend?

I thought this can't be right

I saw the numbers there

I've gained ten pounds since Christmas

But, I'm ****** if I know where

I thought that the old batteries

Just needed to be changed

But, the numbers were the same again

That **** scale is deranged

Most times I eat real healthy

No fried foods and lots of greens

But I keep on getting fatter

And I don't know what this means

I entered all my numbers

My height, and weight increase

And when my BMI was figured

It said "Son, you're obese"

Now, I do not ride a scooter

I wear an xl shirt

But seeing that word on the chart

Well, man....that really hurt

I watch shows on my tv

of people in bad shape

They weigh in at 600 pounds

And to them I am a grape.

My knees may hurt, my back is sore

But that's not from my weight

They hurt from my arthitis

Not from my  rotund state

Obese, to me is something

That I swore I'd never be

It's a tag that is real hurtful

And it is one I have to see

Each time I get upon the scale

And then go to the chart

It comes up as obese each time

It really breaks my heart

Now, exercise and I are friends

We met once in the past

But we always seem have a fight

And our friendship does not last

I've tried diets that do wonders

They make the pounds fall off

But after twenty pounds of loss or so

My body starts to scoff

It says "you know you're fooling no one"

"A skinny you's just fake"

"So, come on down off the treadmill"

"And let's go get some cake"

So exercise is not for me

There must be other ways

To lose the weight that I've put on

One I can do in days!

I'm looking for a short cut

To break me from my obese rut

So, I chose Liposuction

Where they stick a tube inside my gut

They said "you are a candidtate"

Like, there was choice that had been made

I knew I had to get the weight off

If I wanted to get laid

They took me in a little room

And had me lie down on the bed

Then they put a tag on my big toe

I said "...in case I wake up dead?"

They said it was to tell them what to do

I said I way 300 pounds,

So if I know, why don't you?

They drew some lines upon my gut

and down on to my thighs

I said don't touch nothing down there

It's exactly the right size

They told me that the lines were just

To show them where to ****

Again, I thought below my waist

And I thought "just my luck"

They said a hose would **** the fat

That my body had in store

I thought, that's only so

I can fill it up with more

They said that it would hurt some

And I'd be sore and bruised

Then they showed me a few pictures

Those people looked abused

I siad, no thanks, I'm outa here

I'm gonna lose it right

I didn't put it on that quick

And I won't lose it overnight

I'll change the food I'm eating

And I'll go and walk a bit

I'll use the stairs a little more

And this time I won't quit

But, as I thought of liposuction

And that really neat machine

To own something that ***** like that

Would be so ****** keen!

Now, I'm working on my weight loss

And folks, here is the scoop

I' dropped two pound this afternoon

I just had a good ****!

Just exercise some caution

If your scale says you're obese

For I'm in this fight beside you

And our weights will both decrease!
Randy Vera Nov 2013
"BUG"

I saw a Bug Battle,
in the cracks of the street Blood and Struggle
Their plastic screams and cellophane curses were almost like yours and mine.
Until a brave one crawled to my ear,
and he told me of his trial in the street crack theater,
I grinned as if I cared, he smiled like he had the time
He said "in whose camp does your banner fly, and can I have you on my side?"
He loaded a Pistol while I replied:
I said: I'm anti-pro no shout catechist, so keep your pamphlets political activist,
You take your cause for lack of a purpose in life,
pursuit of happiness, "eudemonia"  good spiritedness
you're living proof that ignorance aint bliss
Pray "Libira nos a malo!" and Free Tibet!
But you never prayed for the souls with affixed Bayonets;
so I wave like the man being shot from the cannon;
born on this chunk of warm rock hurling through nothing;
who only on the front of spirit can fight;
Storm the Bastille of desperate life;
and dance in the street every night till the day I die.
The Bug Replied:
Know All, Know all, in the dialog to win,
two grants are a Franklyn one Lincoln's just a fin?
Posit value for this bug since you're so well balanced,
gaining perspective from the outermost valence;
you never killed what you eat and confuse "labor with action,"
  but you think you're to evolved to fight for my faction;
We're currency baby as we live and breed,
BASTILLE for you ATTICA for me!
better get in the frae my anti anti teacher
before it ***** you along with every other fighting creature;
I'm going back to me cell where I breathe a little freer;
but let me give a final though like I'm Jerry Springer:
If happiness is purpose than you can call my purpose love,
to survive I fight the Battle and to me you're the bug.
Thunderstruck, I sat on the curb,
realizing I could be a "social surd;"
then I saw my small confessor get killed in a raid;
I would have stomped out his assassin if I wasn't so afraid;
instead I rose to my feet, and walked straight home,
locked myself in, and wrote out this song,
I think of the bug while I'm dancing in the street,
every time my neighbor throughs a sneaker at me;
I feel his wrestles spirit longing to fight,
while I'm drinking and singing in the middle of the night,
than it hits me:
The bug was right
Verse 1

First time I saw you under that summer moon
Your eyes blazed me promised tomorrows in June
Baby that smile melted this man's frozen heart
We drowned willingly in love never drifting apart

Verse 2

Those lips of yours beckoned so sweetly to me
Golden hair flowed so gently in a soothing breeze
Alabaster arms reached out pulling me to your face
My injured spirit invited within that loving embrace

Chorus:

Yeah there you stood girl
Dancin' without dancin'
Floating into my eyes
There you stood girl

Verse 3

Ya know darling, you spoke a thousand words
All the while only a moment passing I heard
My wonderful angel you flew to me that very day
Your voice ringing over vast oceans asking to stay

Chorus: Repeat Twice

Yeah there you stood girl
Dancin' without dancin'
Floating into my eyes
There you stood girl

Tag: Final Fading

Yeah, there you stood girl
There you stood girl

Copyright © 2016 Robert William Gruhn - BMI - All Rights Resserved
Racquel Tio Jun 2016
"You're so thin, what's your secret?"
It isn't cutting out carbs,
My secret isn't a diet in a magazine,
My secret is hidden under baggy sweaters,
My secret is the scale hidden under clothes in my closet,
My secret is exercising until I pass out,
My secret comes from feeling fat every second even when I'm being begged to gain weight by doctors,
My secret is placing my entire self worth on a number and the belief that others judge me by the same numbers,
My secret is a voice that is always yelling at me, telling me I take up too much space and need to be sick to be acceptable,
My secret is looking in the mirror at all the weight I think I've gained since the last time I looked, an hour before,
My secret is the desire to slice my fat right off,
My secret is the hidden food in my dresser that I told my mom I was taking for lunch,
My secret is hidden at the bottom of toilet bowls,
It's an empty laxative package,
It's fainting every time I stand up too fast,
It's numbers. It's all numbers. Calories. Pounds. Kilograms. Clothing sizes. Calories. Inches. BMI. Calories. It's counting, recounting, then deciding I don't desire it anyway.
It's striving for the lowest number, to have the lowest number, to be the lowest number,
My secret is comparing myself to everyone I see and always thinking I'm worse,
My secret is turned down coffee dates, parties, and sleepovers because there will be food there,
My secret is the word "fat" carved into my inner thigh with a blade from a pencil sharpener,
My secret hides behind every "no thanks I'm allergic" "I'm vegan" "I can't have gluten" and "I already ate",
It's being told curves are beautiful and nobody wants to date a skeleton but still not being able to believe it,
My secret is paranoia that everyone is trying to make me fat,
My secret is having nightmares of eating an almond then waking up with a racing heart and panicking,
You want to know my secret?
My secret is in the tenth grade my bmi was lower than my age,
My secret was tears shed in hospital beds,
My secret is being begged by everyone I love to just have a bite,
My secret is being afraid of eating fruits or drinking water because I think it'll make me fat,
My secret is getting on scales then off of them then on them then back off and still not trusting it,
My secret is a constant demand to be thinner with no point that will ever be enough,
My secret is that the only curves I want are the curves my ribs would make poking through my skin,
My secret is squeezing my fat until my nails pierce my skin,
My secret is feeling like I'm being suffocated by my own body,
My secret is dizzy days and cold skin,
My secret is that even through years of therapy I can't get the same amount of satisfaction from any person or accomplishment as I can from losing weight,
My secret comes from every hit from my mom, from every nasty word spoken by the girls who thought I wasn't good enough, from every guy's touch I didn't ask for,
I didn't get thin due to having willpower,
I got thin from becoming powerless
to a mirror that will never tell me I'm good enough until I'm dead.
David W Clare Nov 2014
The chao phraya river song
by: David Wayne Clare

Down by the River (echo-ee, a Capella) Down by the River (echo-ee, a Capella)

Down By the River, don't dive in, them sharks are real-****-mean but, that's where you'll find me... along with buzzards, ******* and kumoi dope fiends...

Chorus
we love that ***** water ... oh oh oh Bangkok, Thailand; you're my home !

now...
oriental Asian Ladies, Thailand's **** Siam queens
I dig them slant-eyed ******,
them sticky cat-faced chicks on Soi 13!

(Miami Hotel)

cause they love that ***** water ...
oh oh oh Bangkok, Thailand; you're my home !

(Harmonica Solo)

You'll find me trashed one morning (smashed!)
Iced-down in China Town; all crying alone...

One day I'll never leave here (Lord!) Unless an Esan Girl might claim me for her own...
'cause I love that ***** water ... oh oh oh Bangkok, Thailand; you're my home !

Refrain

Chao Phraya River, Chao Phraya River... Chao Phraya River, Chao Phraya River...
Buddha!
Chao Phraya River, Chao Phraya River... Chao Phraya River, Chao Phraya River...

Oh, Bangkok, Thailand... you're my home!

(Sharp jumps from river with snied smile... big splash sound...)

(c) in perpetuity, David John Clare Clairvoyant Music BMI

Thailand...
Written in Bangkok by...
YouTube demos
David John Clare
2010

by david john clare of The chao phraya river song 
by david john clare of bangkok Thailand...
Mystic Ink Plus Feb 2018
BMI
Shadow has put some weight on me
BMI>30

#Tag, if you're also in it.
Genre: Clinical
Note: BMI= Body Mass Index
Shadows are the attachment which  make us heavier than we actually are.
David W Clare Feb 2015
The chao phraya river song
by david john clare

Down by the River (echo-ee, a Capella) Down by the River (echo-ee, a Capella)

1 Down By the River, don't dive in, them sharks are real-****-mean but, that's where you'll find me...

along with buzzards, ******* and kumoi dope fiends...

chorus 'cause we love that ***** water ... oh oh oh Bangkok, Thailand; you're our home !

2 now...Oriental Asian Ladies, Thailand's **** Siam queens

I dig them slant-eyed ******... Them
Sticky cat-faced chicks on Soi 13! 'cause they love that ***** water ...

oh oh oh Bangkok, Thailand; you're my home !

(Harmonica Solo)

3 You'll find me trashed one morning (smashed!)

Iced-down in China Town; all crying alone...

One day I'll never leave here (Lord!) Unless an Esan Girl might claim me for her own...

'cause I love that ***** water ... oh oh oh Bangkok, Thailand; you're our home !

Refrain

Chao Phraya River, Chao Phraya River... Chao Phraya River, Chao Phraya River...

Buddha!

Chao Phraya River, Chao Phraya River... Chao Phrya River, Chao Phraya River...

Oh, Bangkok you're my home!

(Big smiling shark jumps from river with switchblade knife in between teeth...)

fin

(c) in perpetuity, David John Clare Clairvoyant Music BMI

Thailand...
Siam song 21st century
David W Clare Dec 2014
(truck-drivers, bar-boozers, loser-bar yokles, blue-collar rednecks will all love this smash hit song!!!)

Rockin country genre

"Big Mouth Surgery"    
  (by david John Clare)

(rockin' country drunk hick juke-box mix)

Wow!  She sure does talk a lot... could almost cause a riot

But we don't get... just what she's trying to say

We could hear her fine before... when she used to be quiet

Guess all them new school-words get in the way

We took her to see... a gypsy-psychic-magician

But he wanted more... than we could pay

So we took her down to see... our local town physician

And here's what old doc... had to say

Boys...

"She needs Big Mouth Surgery"

Her tongue is on the blink

She just talks, sqwacks and talks some more

'Cause she don't know how to think

So please don't be stallin'

Her brain is now corrupt

Can't you see that she has fallen'

And she just can't ''shut-up!"


Big Mouth Surgery

Cause no pills seem to work

Hurry please now doctor

Before she drives us all berserk


Big Mouth Surgery

But will it work without a doubt?

Better make it a lobotomy

Before she starts to shout!


(solo)


Our reputations are expensive

While her talk is **** cheap

You just can't tell her nothin'

'Cause a secret she can't keep

No one seems to know

What the fuss is all about

We're just waitin' for her brain

To catch up with her mouth


She needs Big Mouth Surgery

Her mind is on the blink

She always talks, talks and talks all day

Why can't she just please stop & think?

So please don't be stallin'

Her head is all corrupt

Can't you see that she has fallen'

Her fat-mouth can't shut-up!

Big Mouth Surgery

We need to find her a shrink

Hurry please there doctor

Before she drives us all to drink

Big Mouth Surgery

She's heard north, east, west & south

Who gave her brain a laxative?

Got diarrhea of the mouth!


Big Mouth Surgery

No pill can take effect

Hurry please now doctor

She is a mental wreck

Our minds: she made us loose

Her words: just seem to ooze

It's so hard: to take a snooze

We just drown all-day in *****

Beer, Whisky, Wine & ***** . . .

To wash away our ear-ache blues!


Yip Yip Zip Lip!  ...Yee Haw!

(c) 2009    David Wayne Clare

CLAIRVOYANT MUSIC / BMI

all rights reserved

in perpetuity
Rockin country by...
David John Clare
written in Jakarta Indonesia
clairvoyant music bmi
David W Clare Jan 2015
Better stop and think, you should watch your step
be careful what you say, don't want to get me upset

just button your lip, no need to leave a tip
time to dummy up, go away now and get yourself hip

better pack it up, go live with your mom
the life i choose is a bit too strong

take on a wild girl like me, the kind they say many just hate us

a **** i couldn't give, hey boy i'm not your waitress

"I'm not your waitress"
hey, get your eyes off me
"I'm not your mommy"
don't touch me. cause i don't work for free
"I'm no not some **** waitress"
no oh whoa ...
"I'm not your inflatable dolly or sweet lovely waitress"


i'm sick and tired of your simple mind

can't you tell by now, you're a waste of time

dont push me around, the envelope you've stretched it


my name's not Natalie Step and Fetch-it

this kinda of scene is ill for mental health

you want something? then go get it yourself

take on a power girl like me, the type they say many only hate us

a crap i couldn't give, hey boy i'm not your waitress

"I'm not your waitress"
hey, get your eyes off me
"I'm not your mommy"
don't touch me. cause i don't work for free
"I'm no not some **** waitress"
no oh whoa ...
"I'm not your waitress"

i'm sick and tired of your idiot mind

cant you tell by now, to me you're a waste of time

dont push me around, the envelope you've stretched it


please dont grab at me or slap my hot **** ***

im not interested in you, an old poor white stupid trash

too bad, you look confused and so hungry fool

i wouldn't serve you well: it takes more than any money can do

listen up!

"I'm not your waitress"
hey, get your eyes off me
"I'm not your mommy"
don't touch me. cause no no no ... i don't work for free
"I'm no not some cheap waitress"
no oh whoa ...
"I'm not your missy prissy kiss kiss kissy  wa wa wa waitress"

fa fa fa fug-off jocko ****!

"I'm not your waitress"
hey, get your eyes off me
"I'm not your mommy"
don't touch me. cause i don't work for free
"I'm no not some **** doh doh waitress"
 no no oh oh whoa ...
...I'm not your waitress!

© 2009 david clare  clairvoyant music / BMI    all rights reserved
My sassy Thai ex girlfriend in Thailand said this title to me...
David W Clare Jan 2015
The Sukhumvit Rap
 
by David John Clare


Boom boom bah smoke yaba bah bah bah boom!

Boom boom bah smoke yaba bah bah bah boom!
 
Well, she come in to Na Na town on dah midnight sky train, anonymous esan girl she a mysterious Bangkok dame

Out of the nite shadows she will walk and magically appear, I'm telling you fresh forang you got some awful things to fear right here

She can slave your mind in a minute without talk so lyrical, she's a modern Thai freak, a ****** miracle

First She opiates his mind then double you'll see
will loose all sense of time and then the trouble will be

She knows what she is doing, her instincts are cold Forang men they surrender and just do what they are told

Beyond the like of a dibbie girl as you are a sucker for her date

she will leave your mind and body in a wicked deadly state

A jealous girlfriend could now completes the scene as you walk back to your short time room near Pat Pong
soi cowboy libertine...
 
If you get near her you hear the voice of a Thai Siren
Don't you look at her don't you touch you'll start cryin'
If you dare embrace her fool you will think you found a rare Silom Road Jem or Jewel?

She can tear your heart out and she will do it with your own **** tool !
 
Tell The brothers not to look the wink of her eye, tell all of the brothers not to watch her WINK!
 
You can tell by her moves and the slit under her dress she is a one trick thai pony ahead of you by her breast

She got a photographic smile Greta garbo movie hair

She can tear any man down with that Siamese cat like looking stare...

Don't look into her eyes she'll control you blind

you want to wine and dine her? ha, it is your mind she will sixty nine

Shell try her best to allure you so now don't concede cuz if you touch her now boy your heart will bleed

It is a hell of way to take a Thailand vacation but remember this; there is no way of ever stopping this ****** man killer creation.
 
Tell The brothers not to watch the wink of her eye, tell all of the brothers not to watch her WINK!

Boom boom bah smoke yaba bah bah bah boom!

Boom boom bah smoke yaba bah bah bah boom!

WINK!
 
(c) 2010 Clairvoyant Music / BMI Los Angeles CA USA  all rights in perpetuity by the author
Written on the late night streets of Bangkok Thailand... Nana soi 11
Ronin Jul 2020
You tell me
I’m not that skinny
My BMI tells me
I’m way too skinny
You tell me
My waist isn’t that small
The internet tells me
My waist is small enough for modeling
You tell me
Everyone has size 2
Research tells me
The average size is size 12
You tell me
I’m not enough
Yet too much

I tell myself
I’m not enough
Yet too much.
David W Clare Nov 2014
intro . . .
Have you ever noticed how many wild-guys out there through-out the world-over who have a wild-streak that are named Jim or James or Jimmy?
I mean take a look at the personalities of the many famous and not so famous men who are just a bit left-of-center and rebellious in nature.
For instance Jimmi Hoffa or take wild guitar man Jimmy Page or the great actor James Cagney or James Mason. Now consider Jimmi Stewart or James Garner.
What about everyones favorite spy James Bond. The wild genius of Jim Carrey. The old time character vaudvillian master Jimmy Durante. What about the historical
Jimmy-The-Greek. The rebellious outlaw Jesse James. What about the many musical legends like James Taylor or Jimmy Buffet. Who isn't amazed by the one and only
James Brown? What about Jim Morrison of The Doors or one-of-a-kind Jimi Hendrix. Then there's the wonder of James Dean himself - the ultimate hellion.
Well I wrote a song for them all... it's an original number called...  

Jimmy Rebel

by:  David Wayne Clare   aka David John clare

Hard Rockin' Country  (Rebellion Theme)

You've been upset for so long, at your dad, and at your sister
We heard your mom, she run and gone, well you're not sure to where but you know you'll miss her

Fed up with all the lies, never found true family ties
Not much, to leave behind, got some friends, but theyre not your kind


Well... Jimmy Rebel, meaner than the devil
His world is so hard to understand
Whoa... Jimmy Rebel, you got a score you got to settle
Youve taken all you can, stupid kid . . . brilliant man

You dont get pushed around, though people put you down,
Yeah, some would even throw rocks at you
You were born to speak out loud, without making any sound
Known by some ***** looks, a collection of scars, lifes true tattoos
You've lived the black and blues

Whoa... Jimmy Rebel, badder than the devil
This world's so hard to understand
Jimmy Rebel, you got a score you got to settle
Come on you know the plan, ugly boy... **** man

Feels like everybody hates you, yet you never run and hide
You're from a broken mobile home; yet your heart is double -wide
No matter how strange youre made to feel, you wont get pushed aside
Standing tall in a cruel crowd, not many a man could out survive
Out survive...

Jimi Rebel, stronger than the devil
some say...
Hes got the master plan
Jimmi Rebel
Gotta score you gotta settle
Now he knows they cant understand just what it is...
Yet I can...  yet I can... yes I can understand

Jimi Rebel

Stranger in a strange land
Viscous one deserves a medal
He knows they cant understand, just what it is...

Yet I can, Yes I  can, yes I can
YES... I  Can . . . .

D. CLARE   (c) In Perpetuity  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
JET-SET  21ST  CENTURY  PRODUCTIONS
Clairvoyant Music / BMI
Jimmy rebel theme
David W Clare Nov 2014
Written in Bangkok, Thailand SE Asia, Siam

a.k.a. "Skype Love"  a.k.a.  "Skype Life"  a.k.a.  "Skype Fun"

The Skype Theme Song      "The Skype Song"

written by: David John Clare    

     

(Sci-Fi Techno Music)

Verse 1

Feel the shock, hear the buzz,   Turn-on your screen, so you can see what it does

Tells you who's there, finds you a date,   Friendly webcam faces: how they radiate

Never be bored, Skype gives us something to do,   Her electric eyes to watch me in my view

Lightning filled hands, good tingling sensations,   Skype runs the world: on a single cosmic vibration

Chorus 1

Skype Love: an on-line chat with a new friend I know, Skype Life, You sound so good, feels so good to me

Skype Fun, It's me Oh Yeah!, always on the go, Skype Me Now! ... makes it so easy like: 1-2-3

Verse 2

How it works so well: nobody knows,  It's more than simply just 1's & O's

Skype don't lie, no it's not science fiction,  A very clean high, our one and only addiction

Brand new friends, new loved ones too, In every country a cool rendezvous

 

A lovely Chat? Well it gets better than that!  If you don't Skype, then you don't know where it's at!

Chorus 2

Skype Love, It's my computer on video, Skype Life, You sound so good, look so nice to me

Skype Fun, It's us Oh Yeah!, always on the go, Skype Someone now! ... it all so easy as 1-2-3

Bridge

Go feel the magic on-line,  Someone now: is as close as your hand

Now finally every thing's fine

The World is now: at your command, command, command ...  (**** Pow!)

Chorus 3

Skype Love: an on-line chat with a true-friend I know, Skype Life, It's great, always there for me

Skype Fun, You sound so good, it's so cool to go

Skype !  Sign Up Now! ('cuz), It's for free, for free,  for free,  for free,  for free... (echo-fade)

© In Perpetuity written by:  David w. Clare  Clairvoyant Music / BMI

all rights reserved by the author


Skype: xendavid

email: LetsCreateSuccess@gmail.com
Chiang mai Thailand 2008
David W Clare Nov 2014
''We Still Want You Bad (Michael)''
by: david wayne clare


Didn't think that this could do it, do it, do it
Didn't think that it would ever do it, do it, do it
Didn't think that life could do it, do it, do it
Yeah, we want you, we want you back bad

We remember the times and the hits our ears would taste
You let your love-sound shine; now time has let it go to waste
It's seems no matter when, life can fool you

His skin-deep charm we hadn't relished like oh so before
Not really thinking we just jumped up and walked out your door
The pain we just cant bear, we have no one else to tell
It drives us mad to think we feigned and now were compelled

Convinced ourselves of no second-chance and we thought it was through

Dont you think were insincere; the world has changed its point of view
We know we were to too coy, all acted so demure
Now this: the price we pay for being so unsure

Cause!

We still want, still want you, we want you, want you bad!
We still want, we still want you bad-boy, for you were our fave thrill!

We still want, still want you, we want you, want you bad!
We still want, we still want you bad, for you were our fun thrill, thrill, thriller

Oh, we are so, so all alone

When you left from our caress we said our sadness grew
We never before confessed, we guess you really never knew
We thought the times we had, was really ours to keep
Emotion twists and turn; the pain of it: always will run deep

Where are his love tunes that will never make it in the book?
If they can fill the empty ages, well its worth a second look
We thirst the touch of love that hides in Michaels fantasy
The kiss of his goodbye was never meant to be

Cause!

We still want, still want you, we want you, want you bad!
We still want, we still want you bad, for you were our big thriller!

We still want, still want you, we want you, want you bad!
We still want, we still want you bad, for you were our best thrill, thriller, thrill

We always will remember the times and your ever-changing lovely face
You let your love light shine; youve gone and let it go to waste

Don't want to be branded, seems no matter how, life can fool you
We all feel a so very stranded, It's as if you've always known

It's a question of what we want: we want you bad!

Cause!

We still want, still want you, we want you, want you bad!
We still want, we still want you boy bad, for you were our favorite thriller!

We still want, still want you, we want you, want you bad!
We still want, we still want you bad, for you were our fun thrill, thriller, thrilla


(c) 2010 David Wayne Clare Clairvoyant Music / BMI ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Listen to this song I wrote at...
www.mynoisyplanet.com/davidjohnclare
Marty S Dalton May 2013
Take a deep breath inventory
Of yourself
Do not count your hands or feet
Not your wandering legs or
Wavering arms
Do not take inventory of your clothes
Not of your favorite shoes or
Your special hat—not even your
Coat that you save for those cold,
Cold nights
Ignore your car—payments or paid off
Your home—apartment, trailer, mansion
Your work uniform—whatever that may be

Make emergency stops only
You are still several miles from
The intersection of contentment and identity
And you have not been there
In far too long
Do not take inventory of how you look
In a summer dress or a tuxedo and bowtie
Don’t count your history with
Drugs and alcohol
Don’t count your computer, your television
Or that collection of movies
Or albums
Or books that you’ve been working on
Don’t take account of your ability to curl
Dead weight
It’s just curling dead weight
Don’t count the number of visible abs
You have
Or your BMI

You are so much more than a body
You are so much more than possessions
Your body and belongings have not
Done you well to feel like you belong

Instead take inventory of your joy
You have some joy don’t you?

Count your friends
Count your love letters
Count the moments when it rains
And you have an umbrella
Count the last time you had strawberries
Count the start of every kiss
Count the paid off credit cards
Actually, count those twice
Because freedom counts for twice as much
Account for all of your freedoms
Take inventory of playing catch with your dad
Your last home-cooked meal
Account for the last time you rode a bike
When you didn’t think about exercise, you just felt the wind
Count the times you wrapped birthday presents
Count the smell of the last bouquet of flowers you were given
Count the last time you went to the zoo
And you swore, nobody ever fell in love with the
Animals quite like you did
Cause you have an eye for beauty
And you’re seeing it everywhere
Take a deep breath inventory of the beauty you have seen

And when you can’t seem to find anything that matters
To take inventory of
Count those dark moments where you still
Have the hope to rack your brain
To try to find a memory where you had joy
If you still have hope to try to find it
That is joyful
All on its own
Because I know they can be hard to find sometimes
Those things worth taking inventory of
But I have found the greatest of these things is love
Not the way I love Pulp Fiction and Casablanca
But the way I love my wife
And my father and my mother
And a good rescue
Cause that is what I’ve had—a good rescue
And life is sweet like honey
Not because it’s easy
And certainly not because I feel good all the time
But because I have found joy in a rescued life that I can hope in
When I take a deep breath inventory
I have to realize all I have is love
The rest will go away someday
But not my hope and joy and love
David W Clare Oct 2016
By: David John Clare

The bad ones are good 
The good ones are bad 
I've been had by Philippines girls 

So easy to be with 
So hard just to leave 
Feels right to love them 
But the *** ain't for free

She knows my desire tempestuously
Her slave I became for her sick hungry greed.

She's love starved tonight 
For money she'll cry
I'm flying in clouds to that blue Asian sky...

Up for the taste of a Philippines girl
And for the love of a tropical whirl...

The bad ones are good 
The good ones are bad 
I've been had by Philippines girls

So easy to be with 
So hard to leave 
So wrong to love them
Her charms aren't for free 

She's hungry tonight 
For her love I will cry
I'm hungry right now for some sweet cherry pie...

She's all I desire tempestuously
Her slave I became for her sick hungry greed. 

She was love starved that night 
I was hungry for pie
I flew away from the clouds of that dark Asian sky...

Just for the taste of a Philippines girl
And for the love of a tropical world...

D. Clare

(c) 2016 in perpetuity all rights reserved by the author 

(p) FilmNoirWorks publishing BMI
Las Vegas, USA
After several sojourns to SE Asia this hip diatribe emerges rather appropriately...DaVe
David W Clare Dec 2014
Bank,
took away my tract-home-house, got divorced from my last cheatin’ spouse

Laid-of from my company job, all I get to eat is corn-on-the-cob

Get evicted cant pay no rent
Rains too **** much to pitch me a tent

Kinfolk don’t  like the mess I’m in, so I became a bohemian . . .

Trailer Home Romeo, I’m a trailer **-home romeo

Kinfolk don’t  like the shape Im in, so I drink with trailer park beer drinkin men !

Pay Taxes that I owe?  Hell No !  I’m a bohemian on the go a trailer **-home romeo!

Bought me an old F-150 Ford, at least I ain’t got no **** landlord

I cash in cans I find on the ground, easy work get paid by the pound
Can’t buy me no tonic and Gin like the rich Good-Sam suburbians

I fix my own truck rent-a-wreck, told I don’t qualify for no welfare check
Afriad to go outside in the day for a jog, got bit last week by the neighbors dog

Can’t track me down, I’m always on the go, move down south if it starts to snow!
Move when I want don’t have to hesitate, hitch-up my truck and relocate

My left tire just fell-apart so I propped it up with a K-mart shopping cart

Got me a bottle of Jim Beam to pamper, might get drunk but I’m a happy Camper !

Kinfolk don’t  like the mess I’m in, so I became a bohemian . . .
Trailer Home Romeo, I’m a trailer **-home romeo

Kinfolk don’t  like the shape I’m in, so I drink with trailer park beer drinkin men !

Pay Taxes that I owe? 

... Hell No !  

I’m a bohemian on the go a trailer **-home romeo!


© David Wayne Clare   In Perpetuity - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Clairvoyant Music / BMI
Rockin country
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
symphony arrangement for poetry - personae distinctions of hidden violins and woodwinds, somewhere along the way brass - leaving Cabaret Voltaire (Zurich), moving to the Beat Hotel (9 Rue Gît-le-Cœur, Paris), ending up on the Cowgate (Edinburgh).

when you read newspapers you realise that dinosaurs roam
the land, the fortress of printing press, unlike the printing press
(which was taken seriously from the word go!)
the internet has been largely squandered; you read these
things in newspapers, the evolutionary reaction - ensuring that
among these dinosaurs are also opinion pieces, dinosaurs write accounts of what's happening, batrachotoxin amphibians write
opinions: i.e. what isn't happening: opinions go forward unchecked
and undisputed, added that there are many potions in the cauldron
it's hard to pick one out and dig deeper until both parties are in no position to hold such and such opinion, given the missing
muscle of implementing change or the skeleton to keep
the status quo - but this is a slight deviation from what i
was intending to convey - the old guard of printing is worried
sick that it might be usurped in the long run - it prints damaging
reports about the existence of the internet, looking at it as not
a niche environment, which it technically is - but cats, ****, cats,
****, apparently we all log on to meow and moan -
as a tool of entertainment it's the least thrilling source of
the desired "entertainment", the unscripted nature of this niche environment is what's actually good about it, in that a single
person can become both writer, editor and publisher -
but indeed, the internet has been squandered,
although it improved from what used to be a wholly anonymous
environment peppered with dangers of random encounters -
the infamous chat rooms changed even more to infamous
phone-books: you heard it, stories of cyber bullying - the internet
has been squandered, by all means, trying to save it is a bit like
trying to save the world, or as one Tao principle suggested to me
early on forged in me: the best way you can aid the world
is to forget the world, and let the world forget you.
a film director would say, well, i'm stuck in the house,
i'm thinking of shooting a biopic of Lawrence of Arabia...
i see a desert, a man riding a camel through it...
but you have to then start muling over the facts: you'll have to get funding, get the casting right,  but no one likes shooting in
the desert, you have to get  the catering sorted, you start shooting,
but the camera track ruins the desert, so you have to move
to another part of the desert that's pristine with wind parallel
ridges in the sand, then the studio calls you and says you're
spending too much money, then peter o'toole stumbles
out from the trailer hungover almost everyday; sure, you need inspiration and ideas, but that's only 1% or the whole,
99% is working with people - as a director you're not actually
playing god, you're helping other people, De Niro preferred
mumbling something prior to a scene, but Seymour Hoffman
went into a scene like a crocodile quickly snapping
to the shout of cut! and the clapperboard.
i suppose poetry could be like that too,
99% being the audience and the necessary oration,
that would work - unless of course you'd do the same with
painting - but whereas with painting you're invited to critical
thinking, see an artist next to his painting elaborating on
the themes and use of colours? i don't want to assert common sense
wisdom from one profession and apply the same wisdom
                                      to another with a trans-occupational
relativism: that red           is relative to               crimson -
              but we'll have to do away with lighting,
              darkening and what not, so yes,
red is relative to crimson insofar as we forget lighting
and Edward Hopper. anyone can appreciate the
lazy approach, but i took to some mammoths without the help
of audio books, a reasoning man, not a mob gob emotive conjurer worth a tonne of heckles and haggles - but i guess the dream
through this gamble would be the monetary reward...
you know... after so many years writing for peanuts i have lost
all appetite for spending money beyond what i consider
to be a workable cure for insomnia - i don't have to buy music
any more since i can stream it, i have more privacy without
a mobile phone, all i have is this little brick wall that's stationary
in this virtual jungle on which i scribble - with the radius from
this point being anything ranging from 1 to 6 sensible miles,
beyond 6 and we're talking blisters on feet; can you imagine what
our predecessors could endure in terms of walking? they had hoofs
instead of feet, while we have skin as smooth as a baby's buttock
cheeks on the soles of our feet. the strangeness of modernity:
1. a man drives a car with with a bicycle on the roof, just so he can    
    peddle down a scenic route...
2. the volume of skimmed milk bottle is the same as full fat milk,
    but if you bought full fat milk and added water to it the volume
    would triple (via semi, so yes, triple)...
3. healthy diets - 350% increase in vegan population
   in Britain over the past 10 years - the protein problem
   (once it was the fat problem, low fat yoghurt came about,
    turned everything into a sugar problem), i.e. women aged
    between 19 & 24 requiring to hit the 58 gram daily
    recommendation of protein would have to eat:

everyday foods
chicken breast (251g = 276Kcal)
eggs x4 (460g = 658Kcal)
salmon fillet (291g = 533Kcal)                                 v.

clean-eating foods
quinoa (1,318g = 1,582Kcal)
chia seeds (371g = 1,818Kcal)
                              goji berries (405g = 1,504Kcal)
                              kimchi (3,222g = 863Kcal)
                              tofu (707g = 70Kcal)
                              ******* (384g = 632Kcal)
                              coconut yoghurt (3,422g = 6,844Kcal)
almond milk (14,500ml = 3,625Kcal)
avocado (2,900g = 4,843Kcal)

  as healthy as stuffing turkeys for Thanksgiving, can you imagine
  drinking fourteen, fourteen litres of almond milk?! i don't even
  have to imagine drinking 700ml of whiskey to get the point
  and reach the threshold of the effectiveness of sleeping pills...
  no alcohol, no sleeping pills, better sit it out than take so near  
  ineffective buggers; although as a warning: you might end up
  sleeping for *12 hours
- variations on the BMI and previous habits
  of drinking - socially? not so much, medically? primarily -
  not in favour of the anti-alcohol lobby being part of the "safety"  
  guidelines given to the public...
4. charities' costs eat up 78% of donations,
    another 21st century anomaly, effectively dismissed
    by the church's alms giving history depicted in Sistine opulence,
    so no wonder whether in cardinal robes or suited and booted for
    the near-invisible secular religiosity, such poverty of symbolism
    compared with the predecessors, at least back then you'd
    know who to send to the guillotine - and this is how Louis XIV
    treated his courtesans, he made a certain type of clothing
    mandatory, a Versailles school uniform as it were,
    most the the courtesans went bankrupt having to buy the
    clothes, some pieces would be equivalent of a sports car,
    they went bankrupt to remain in the club,
    so they borrowed monkey from Louis, and so Louis kept
    them in his pocket: poor rich people, or necessary
    leeches (as once used in medicine, Louis' absolutism
    being the sole malady, abuse of power necessitates
    paranoia); or to quote Lisolette about the royal *******
    'mouse droppings in pepper.' Philippe (Duc d'Orléans)
    was the transvestite who charged into battle
    and conquered the Dutch, much to his brother's
    shame at having only made conquests in the bed - well
money here, money there, shoving a piano into a concert hall accompanied by an orchestra, something Chopin would never
do not wishing to leave the comforts of salons - although
Metallica dared to.
                                                             ­           welcome to
the age of silica and chameleons (cha cha cha champ a camcorder anyone? well, imagine what scrutiny Narcissus would pay a photograph, imagine giving a photograph to Narcissus and
wonder would he change his behaviour), get fooled by
the adverts once, second time you'll eventually see needing to feed
a charity's bureaucracy rather than an African, hence the migrant
                                                                                                    crisis...
sometimes there are no surprises as to where certain things
originate, Marxism and England, zenith of the empire,
or as historians claim, the decadence of the Romans was their fascination with food prior to the end: ready-meals and
microwaves among cooking shows, currently the daily program
of channels, esp. that of 4 is culinary and horse racing,
all the interesting programs are broadcast when everyone
is about to fall asleep... Saville bankrupted the B.B.C.
posthumously: a game show, "jackpot" of one grand.
- advertisement didn't expect live T.V., the mute button,
the pause button and the fast forward button...
but in a 100 years time if not more they'll look back at us as
having finally exhausted Groundhog Day (starring Bill Murray) -
sure, the technological breakthroughs were great, magical,
but the content? 20th century most probably,
the ideal time of fluid and at ease plagiarism - obviously
exceptions were made, but this walking nightmare
of the exhausted second half of the 20th century caught up
in the 21st century - dialogue replaced by visuals,
clash of the titans (1981) v. clash of the titans (2010) -
the only good bit of the latter is the inclusion of Hades -
it's beautiful, i'm nostalgic to a history i was born in and
belonged to, i'm not a nostalgic Nietzsche or Hölderlin
bumming about singing praises of the Ancient Greeks -
you see, it's close-at-heart nostalgia because i belonged to it,
the infant of it - a peculiar circumstance to be in; or coming
to terms with the first signs of decay: cartoon network's
cow & chicken with i r baboon - have you seen the horrors
of modern cartoons compared with computer graphics?
readies them to  pick up gaming soon after,
given gaming graphics. in summary - some say sitting behind
a computer screen is a sign of a lack of self-assurance,
or confidence, self- anything you want to suffix with, well,
that could be true, but you have a photograph included,
and the days of the typewriter are over - but i could also say
the same about certain brands or shops, are they too lacking
self-confidence to stop their existence on  the high street?
the royal mail delivers junk, you might get 100 junk envelopes
and a christmas  card... o.k. make that 1000 to 10,000 envelopes
of junk and one letter directly addressing you that hasn't been
written using an analogue like

dear mr. / mrs. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

we would like to inform you that your insurance
claim has expired.            etc.

the infancy of this century is what's deceptive, the greatest
deception i can think of - the great health scares and subsequent
over-usage of antibiotics breeding super-bugs in hospitals
anything and everything under the sun - including
that damnable idea that the planet Mars employs people whom
it's attracting into its orbit - earthly geologists must be bewildered
that the only subject of learning from all of man's
capacity to send into space is geology: and on the return flight
home we realised that we'd only be bringing back some arenite
(sandstone); that quote about about painting being 50 years
ahead of writing, the same is true with science fiction and
actual science.
went to see my doctor
and he told me to lose weight
I said " you must be joking"
"I'm feeling really great!"
He reached down to my shoes
And he then untied my laces
"Now, Mr. Turner, tie them up"
"And don't make funny faces"
"I want to hear your breathing"
"As you try to tie them up"
"It'll will be quite exhausting"
"And you'll feel like throwing uP"
I said "Doc, you must be joking"
"of your test I have no fear"
But as I bent on over
My feet both disappeared
I said "What is that thing there?"
"It's blocking out my view"
He said "that large obstruction"
"is your tummy, that thing's you!"
I stood on up and there it was
My god, that thing was large
I'd bet if I went swimming
I'd be mistaken for a barge!
"Can you do your belt up?'"
"Get it to the second hole?"
I told the doc "No Problem"
"That's a realistic goal"
I undid my belt and gave a tug
I then pulled and I fiddled
But in the end I just liooked like
A balloon squeezed in the middle
He said "This isn't safe for you"
"It's not good for your heart"
"So I would say a diet and some exercise"
" is what you need to start"
"It's not  a quick solution"
"You must change the way you live"
"For you won't get any better"
"If you are aftaid to give"
He measured me and took my weight
And he did my BMI
He said "You need to make this change"
"or else, you're gonna die!"
There it was in black and white
He didn't sugar coat a thing
I either did what I was told
Or I'd hear the Angels sing.
I said, "OK, you 've got me"
"I'll commit to what you ask"
"You've scared me lots, now tell me when"
"We get started on this task"
"I can give you tools to help get fit"
"But it all is up to you"
"Just eat right and go slowly"
"And soon you'll see your shoes!"
He said there's many plans out
that can help you lose it fast
But, you didn't put in on real  quick
So, the results  will not last
I went home and I researched"
Atkins, Raw Food, Jenny Craig
I knew I could lose 50 pounds
If I just cut off one leg.
I could hobble around on crutches
Until I got a new one made
I'd be right in that fit zone
I would not be afraid,
But a voice way back inside me
Said, 'you pillock...do what's right"
"You didn't put it on quick"
"And you won't lose it overnight"
So, I changed what I was eating
No more fried foods and no bread
For I didn't want to wake up
And find out I was dead
I've exercised a little
I even went out for a jog
And I thought I moved quite swiftly
Till, I was past by an obese dog
I thought "you need some help boy"
I sympathize with you
I bet you can't see four feet
While I just can't see two!
I did weights  inside the basement
Watched dvds on my big screen
I've tried yoga and pilates
I've even danced a bit to Queen
So far there not much difference
But my energy is good
I keep on eating chocolate
I'm not trying like I could
I went back to the doctor
To follow up with him
And I knew that my achievement
was going to be dim
He said "good news, you're down a pound"
Just keep sticking to the plan
I said that it was difficult
But I'd do what I can
He said it may be just a pound
And I bet that didn't hurt
I didn't tell him I looked thinner
Because I'd worn a bigger shirt
So, here I am still trying
Of weight loss, there's no news
But if I look in the hall closet
At least I see my shoes!
ern kingham Feb 2015
I'm trying to look at the mirror without judging what I see in my reflection.

I try to tell myself that despite the fact that my face is littered in acne and the scars from old breakouts, that my flaws only make me human.

I try to tell myself that despite the fact my hair strays in every direction that it really is a crown.

I try to tell myself that despite the fact I weigh more than I would like that Sierra DeMulder was right when she said "my body is the house I grew up in, how dare I try to burn it to the ground."

I wake up every morning look in the mirror and I try to tell myself that despite the fact that I hate what I see, mirrors are just glass and I am more than that.

I try to tell myself that despite the fact I am a mere one size away from being plus sized, the fact that my BMI says I'm overweight, the fact that the numbers on the scale are my worst enemy, that there are no numbers in the dictionary definition of worth.

I keep telling myself that I can change, that I will change despite the fact it seems like nothing will ever be different.

I try telling myself that tomorrow will be better despite the fact it almost never is. But I keep trying because eventually one of these tomorrows has to be better.
I'm trying I promise, but it's so freaking hard
AJ Dec 2013
I'm so angry.
I really am.
You are college students.
You think you could tastefully
Complete a project on eating disorders.
I very well know that
Demi Lavato is a beautiful woman.
Is that honestly all you can say?
How could you possibly romanticize this issue.

My throat burns because of the acid.
My teeth are ****.
I brush them three to five times a day.
I lock myself in the guest bathroom in the building
So that I can ***** in private.
I can eat a whole loaf of bread in three minutes.
When I was in high school
My mother tried to force me to eat breakfast.
So I filled multiple gallon bags
Of cereal and rotting bagels and toast.
I don't eat meals with people.
I bring a take out container to my dorm
Once a day
Stuffed to the limit with food.
And I eat it in ten minutes.
And then I *****.
And sometimes I cut
And sometimes I sleep
But I don't even cry over it.
I itch my legs at family meals
Because taking another bite seems unbearable.
It's not something I care to discus.

To tell me that men can't have eating disorders
And that women are the only important ones.
I am a woman
But that makes me feel even sicker than my ED.
Ana and Mia are pansexual.
They don't care who you are
And they don't care if you hate them.
They will become your best friend
And they will stalk you
And destroy you
And they don't give two *****
If you're asian, white, male, or 300 pounds.
It's still a big deal.
I don't care if you have a BMI of 0 or 100.
It's still important.
It's still a big deal.
And you're offensive.
David W Clare Dec 2014
I GAVE YOU ALL I HAD TO GIVE, STILL YOU WANTED MORE
  YOU STOLE THE VERY HEART RIGHT OUT OF ME.
  I LIVED AND BREATHED AND DRESSED FOR YOU, AND EVEN UNDRESSED                
  FOR YOU. NOW, THERE'S JUST ONE THING YOU MUST DO

  IT'S SO HARD TO ADMIT TO THIS MISTAKE
  TRUE CONFESSIONS OF A ROYAL RAKE
  AT TIMES YOU WERE SO VERY ODD
  A VALENTINO, A MARQUIS DE SADE
  I GOT CUT UP IN YOUR ONE-WAY GAME
  I'VE GOT NO ONE ELSE BUT MYSELF TO BLAME
  I'LL GET BACK AT YOU, SOMEDAY YOU'LL PAY
  BUT FOR NOW I CAN ONLY PRAY THAT YOU'LL

  PUT IT BACK WHERE YOU FOUND IT, THE LOVE YOU TOOK FROM ME
  PUT IT BACK WHERE YOU FOUND IT, MY HEART'S IN MISERY
  PUT IT BACK WHERE YOU FOUND IT, THE LIFE YOU TOOK FROM ME
  IT'S SO HARD FOR ME TO LIVE WITHOUT, WHAT YOU TOOK SO EASILY

  YOURS IS THE KIND TO TAKE CONTROL
  A THIEF OF LOVE WITHOUT A SOUL
  RETURN MY HEART AND TAKE THESE BLUES
  THERE'S NO USE KEEPING WHAT YOU CAN'T USE
  I'VE KNOWN LOTS OF GUYS BUT YOU'RE UNIQUE
  THE WAY YOU HYPNOTIZE AND YOUR MYSTIQUE
  I FELL FOR YOUR SCENT, AN APHRODISIAC
  BUT YOUR JUST A CLEVER KLEPTOMANIAC SO...

  PUT IT BACK WHERE YOU FOUND IT, THE LOVE YOU TOOK FROM ME
  PUT IT BACK WHERE YOU FOUND IT, MY HEART'S IN MISERY

  PUT IT BACK WHERE YOU FOUND IT, THE LIFE YOU TOOK FROM ME
  IT'S SO HARD FOR ME TO LIVE WITHOUT, WHAT YOU TOOK SO EASILY

  THE BEST THING IN MY LIFE THAT I COULD EVER DO WOULD BE TO
  SIMPLY STAY AWAY FROM YOU, BUT I CAN'T AS LONG    
  AS YOU HAVE THAT DIVINE PART OF WHAT WAS ONCE MINE
  SO I'M ASKING YOU PLEASE, JUST PUT IT BACK!

David John Clare  ©In Perpetuity   ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Clairvoyant Music / BMI

http://www.mynoisyplanet.com/davidjohnclare
One of my best songs
Em Glass Jan 2014
There is a fine line
between wanting to
be healthy & happy
and wanting to take
up less space.
Wanting to be less.
Matter is neither
created nor destroyed
in the universe—
wanting to take
as little as possible
from the world,
wanting not to leave
a mark.

A fine line between the
BMI of activity & health
and being told that the
gaps in me are the
best parts.
The spaces I don’t fill.
The matter I don’t use.

I draw this line in the
sand, thin—with just the
very tip of a nail—
but the world screams
in protest at me until
my head aches, and it is
more relaxing just to
let the sea
reclaim the small
mark and wash it
back into
the universe.

So as a reminder to
myself I keep
drawing fine lines
on my mind and
on my skin, where
the world and time
can wash away
at it but I’ll still
have the mark
all to myself.

Maybe not the
world, but this
being is mine
and I am
welcome
in it.
Jinsen Jeanne May 2015
Naw motha fkka I
Ain't hot ****
Ain't pompous
Knock nitty gritty
With ****** up kids
I got uh
E mergency
Kit put together
With pipe and tape
From the basement
You need gum
Paperclips
Got a leak
Motha fkkn leaking
Unstable, collect
N assemble new
You wit half ya
Bodyweight in staples
BMI justified
With baggage n
Fix its
It's only a problem
When ya round
Motha fkka I
Ain't hot ****
But I'm one
Of the most torn
Up turned up
******* in the pound
Bombastic sensations
Comin from all sides
A ******
No hater
Trouble you
Trouble me
What's it gonna be?
Depends on your visage
****, I could turn it off
N I do do on occasion
If ya kickin without
The free body vibes
I visit, permission
Can't be a thing
I do wut I want when
I do cause I trust me
You r basic n
Chastened n rope
N chains to the brain
Stuck on level
Seth ***** said
In time you lay stone
Work hurt sometimes
You must crumble
Breakin down
The mortar with
Nightshade in
Spray as pesticide
For the vines tangling
Strangling your
Home, it's unknown
If I gonna grow in
The right way but
I trust me so if
I'm so grown I outgrow
Then I gotta go
No hate
Olivia Kent May 2016
Cold creature.
Dislocated jaws.
Rippling musculature.
Urging in.
BMI increased.
Mega girth.
Crusher fed.
First time ever.
Watched the serpent feed.
Fascinating.
Sleeping now.
(c)LIVVI
I have 3 snakes and 4 lizards in my house. I have never watched the snakes feed before..
Amazing experience.
David W Clare Dec 2014
"With a Wink of Her Eye"  by DAVID JOHN CLARE

Tell your lovers not to look at the wink of her eye
Tell all of your lovers not to watch her
Tell your lovers not to fall for the wink of her eye
�cause then she gottcha
B.g.
Oh ** oh oo whoa oo with just a wink of her eye
Oh ** oh oo whoa oo she�ll steal your lover away
Oh ** oh oo whoa oo with just a look in her eye
Oh ** oh oo whoa oo she gonna take him away

V 1
She came  in  to town on a midnight train,  anonymous caller she, a mysterious  dame
Out of the shadows she walks, to magically appear
I�m tellin� ya fresh my sisters, got some awful things to fear here
She can slave your man in a minute with talk so lyrical
Unique feminine freak, a ****** miracle
First she opiates his mind then double he�ll see
Loose all sense of time, deep in trouble he will be
She knows what she�s doing, her instincts are cold
Men they surrender, just do what there told
She�ll put his mind in motion, charge the fool fare
I�m tellin� you fresh my sisters, ya got to beware

Beyond the likes of a cool call girl, a sucker for her date
She�ll leave his soul and body in a crazy hazy state
A jealous woman could now complete this scene
To set the up course for the likes of lady libertine

Chorus
Tell your lovers not to look at the wink of her eye
Tell all of your lovers not to watch her
Tell your lovers not to fall for the wink of her eye
�cause then she gottcha

Bridge
If you get near her, you hear the voice of a
Siren
Don�t you look at her, don�t you touch, you�ll start cryin�
And if you dare embrace her fool, you think you found a rare jewel
But she can tear your heart out, and do it with your own tool !

V 2
Her life�s a paper-back book with clever words on her lips
She�s got a face could launch a thousand ships
Showing her how the sorry ladies man
Never care who she took, just catch as catch can
You can tell by her moves and that slit up under her dress
She�s a one trick pony ahead by her breast
She�s got a photographical smile, Greta Garbo movie hair
She can tear any man down with that cat like deadly stare
Don�t look into her eyes, she�ll control you blind,
You�ll want to wine and dine her, but your mind she�ll sixty-nine
A cursed sight she�ll allure, now don�t you concede
�cause if you touch her now boy, you surely will bleed
Ladies save your man from this terrible *** corruption
Future fate of your doom, is driven by her
Compulsion
Gently kiss his eyes away from her animal lure sensation

There�s no way of banning this **** man-killer creation !

Chorus
Tell all of your lovers not to look at the wink of her eye
Tell your lovers not to watch her
Tell your lovers not to fall for the wink of her eye
�cause then she gottcha

Bridge
If you get near her, you hear the voice of a
Siren
Don�t you look at her, don�t you touch you�ll start crying
And if you dare embrace her fool, you think you�ve found a rare jewel
But she can tear your heart out, and do it with your own tool !  


D. CLARE   copyright In perpetuity ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
JET-SET  21ST  CENTURY  PRODUCTIONS
Clairvoyant Music TM BMI
Lydeen Dec 2019
Curves melting away
Numbers dropping
An obsessive measurement of worth

One food at a time
Or
Consider mixing it all together

Counting bites
Counting grains, kernels, seeds
Counting times chewed

26 waist
32 hip
5 wrist

11 neck
7 forearm
30 ribcage

17.8 bmi
16.3 body fat
98 lbs

Obsessively memorizing
Remeasuring
Plugging in numbers

Worrying if you look sick
Collar bones too defined
Hip bones jutting out just too much

Getting scared
Binging
Purging

Feeling deliciously empty
Thinking clearly
Everything fuzzy at the edge

It ain't a ******* joke
Sam Temple Oct 2015
how on earth
could steaming squash and Brussel sprouts
be as good as Doritos and a soft serve swirl…
sure, I desire to be a healthy old man
but my taste buds wish me dead at 45
they long for sweet wheat and extra large
portions of meat
indiscrete feedings at fried food buffets
all the while maintaining the look of a fella
only slightly over-weight
…..still, I feel poorly
headaches and joint pain
racing brain and an inability to refrain
from the foods that are doing this to me
I never thought after conquering
8 years of ****** addiction
and 15 years a tobacco ******
that candy bars would be my greatest foe
forget candy bars
let’s talk bread….
loaves of sourdough golden roasted
rye to die for
and cinnamon…rolls,
banana or zucchini
sprinkled on toast with a touch of sugar …
it is no wonder I am larger than need be
the BMI calculator says I am 84 pounds
from defeating obesity
so much for my professional lineman physique –
Vivian Jan 2013
As I plant myself in front of the mirror
I lift my shirt
And see what I've seen
For about as long as I can remember.
It's a stomach
Always has been.

But these tiny rolls
and squishy bits
have fluctuated
for many years
and I poke a ****
with a loving hand
a caress more than a stab

Yet you insist that I should hate my body

I love my mid section
I love the stretch marks on my thighs
I love the way my stomach
folds and plies
I love it all so much
And all of it is me
So why are you treating me like a sub-human being?

You say that you'd much rather
me having a drinking problem
than be fat
that's what you said
and you think I have a problem?

I'm 5' 1", at about 125.
You think it's "healthy" to have a low BMI.

Your method isn't working
I'm not dieting
No way
No weight watcher's for me
not ever
not today

If you think I should hate myself, Mom
I think you should just leave
Because I love my every fiber
I'm an exceptional human being
And you've overlooked so many facets of a life
And that beauty comes from within
And a couple pounds isn't going to change that
I don't need to be thin.
jordyn Dec 2015
a balloon floats over a child’s birthday party that the fat girl wasn’t invited to.
the balloon is the art of maintenance.
let some air out, blow some in, until it’s just right, and then tie it off.

when i was born, i weighed ever so slightly more than six pounds.
that was the last time i’d be slight.
i grew big and grew bigger
years of eating, years of blowing hot air into a balloon hard and fast
with thick, humid inside filling and filling
no longer clear but cloudy and clotted and sick and bigger, and bigger, skin ripping, breaths uncaring, breaths unwavering—

my mother was terrified i’d pop.

i came close in high school, weighing in at two hundred and eight pounds
at the doctor, when i accidentally saw the chart that i was so afraid to see
that i hadn’t seen it in years
and now, here, i saw the weight that i was so afraid, all of this time, to know that i carried.

but i felt it qualitatively
not in the knees, where they tell you you’ll feel it
not in the tightening and narrowing of my overstuffed clothes and arteries
plaque lining them, hardening into tunnels that the blood
can’t find a way through in more than needle thin streams
little brooks in a body born with rivers

not in the heart pumping hard to keep up
not in the swollen, alien stomach that i am sure does not belong to Kate Moss
but i am unsure truly belongs to me.
it looks nothing like the plus size model’s tanned, toned, macro version of a micro Moss
flawless and shiny and glazed with the flecks of photoshopped light
i am a photographer myself, i know the tricks
i felt it in the way the world treated me.

and i know that woman, my designated sister in size who couldn’t fit in my pants and whose shirt I’d drown in, the predetermined champion of my cause,
my implied, targeted marketing role model gimmick and plea to the outraged girls with thick thighs to settle
for someone shopped, just like everyone else.
edited, audited for body parts like stretch marks and pale skin and lines of hair
called happy trails but are sad
that scream desperately for air and an ending when someone,
someone they call brave, runs his tongue along the clearing where they ripped out our flowers and called them weeds, a sad reminder
that i call him brave, too, because they told me he was.

they told me he was brave for adventuring my hills and valleys.
he is no explorer, most of the time.
he is simply a tourist.

they tell me to settle for a woman who still doesn’t look like me.
and they set me a new standard to aspire to—
“FINE, BE BIG, BE PLUS, BE CURVY! YOU CAN BE THEM, BUT YOU CANNOT BE FAT. YOU CANNOT BE FAT. HER FAT IS IN HER *******, IN HER HIPS, IN HER THIGHS… BUT YOUR FAT? YOUR FAT? YOU’RE JUST FAT!”

so i looked in the mirror, ****** it in, twisted, manipulated, tried on this bra and these underwear
and yes, my waist looked slim and yes, my hips had breadth and yes, my ******* were massive and yes, I looked like her.

but then, my mother screamed.

“you are going to die! this is so unhealthy! we have to do something!”
because my high school sent a letter home telling my mother that i was abominable based on three letters and three digits:
BMI- 37.1
WEI
GHT
203
i took off my control top *******.
i undid the latch on my push up, padded bra.
i deflated my stomach.
i deflated my pride.
i looked in the mirror in shock and horror like viewing an old time slasher flick in the back of a drive in in the middle of the night in the days where maybe there’d be a hook on the handle when he came to open my door.
i did not look like her.

i let out the air in slow and painful pinches.
and sometimes it swam, doing pirouettes in the bowl like a little dancer
a teaser of the kind of thin lean woman i am not unless these dinners keep spinning
clockwise down the toilet before i feel them weigh in my stomach
and i am wise to the clock – wait just 30 minutes and you take up half the calories.
do it now, now, now, you have to, you have to – and you’ll take up half the space.
Ana told me to and she is only looking out for me.
the numbers decline to 199 and i think 189 could be mine if i put in the time
and i’m wise to the clock so i start the countdown from 199 to 189 to 177 and i quit

because i let the air out, and for once in my life, when i left my house in two months’ time for the first time,
for once in my life, i wanted to let it in.

some days it leaks out of me.
one more laxative won’t hurt and i don’t care if the weight is fat, water, or ****, it still counts
155, 159, 163…161, 159, 155
and sometimes i still think
Ana is my friend.

but when i’m weak and jealous and out of my head
and angry at the explorer i’ve met who tells me he has so enjoyed his visit
that he’s decided to move in forever, enchanted with the landscape and the history and culture in the area, in the country i’ve built through disorder and plants and bread and loss and skin bunching and ribs you can feel and an *** you can grab so hard sometimes it hurts
sometimes i still think Ana is my friend.

but when i am deflated and counting and wearing out my plastic, and I think one way or another, I’m going to die
I’ll **** myself, with razor blades or Ativan or cancer from these ******* laxatives or these appetite suppressant menthol 100 cigarettes or maybe I’ll just jump like I wanted to
But any day, if I keep going, I’m going to pop—
I realize something about my friend Ana.
when i’m sickly and tired and ******* my brains out
and wishing i hadn’t hurt and built walls to keep out the man that filled the vacancy in my hotel heart who i promised to marry to keep in my country, the one built from feminist strength, brick and bone and stars and skin and roses and muscle and fat and beauty,

baby, take your visa back and let’s knock down these walls and we can tie me off.
Ana is not my friend.
She’s holding the pin.
David W Clare Feb 2015
Trying all day to find the right merge, planning every way just how to quench this here urge
Now walking my way, I may come on to her, dare I not scare her, should I loose this cool...

All I want is just to take-a-peek, as she grabs my... attention: is she too shy to speak?

Until this fine girl I met; she hadn't found me yet - Well, there ain’t no crime in tryin', so don’t get so upset

It’s just my curiosity!  It’s got the better, the better of me
(ay ay ay ay) I can’t help if I like what I see

The chance comes once, only once in-a-while
We might just flip it upside-down tonight, so's I can teach her how to smile!

(Drums: Boom Ba Boom Ba Boom Ba Boom Boom Bap!)

Hidin' my face that isn't what I do best - I just want to know ifin' I can pass her test

You see it makes no difference if I embarrass myself
Hell, that's the only way I know sometimes to find me somebody else

I’m a thrill hunter, not some geek, Better hurry up y'all,  like there’s no time to be meek

Some say it’s the thing that really killed the cat - Well, I got nine lives: an' I ain’t turning back

It's just...My curiosity!  That's got the better, the better of me
(ay ay ay ay) I can’t help if I like what I see

Them pretty things come once, only once in-a-while

I'm gonna smash her bedroom wall, make her flower stand tall!

Say pretty lady, now maybe be sad, but I ain't no stalker or Moon howlin' mad
Say like when you give me the time of day, you might just spend a minute, not just walk away...

And satisfy, satisfy... My Curiosity!
Why, ay, ay satisfy, satisfy this: hungry guy you see!

Well satisfy, satisfy all of my curiosities

(Why ay ay) satisfy, satisfy the lonely night come see

Just make Love to Me!


Written in Bangkok, Thailand
David Wayne Clare  (c) In Perpetuity - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Clairvoyant Music / BMI

www.mynoisyplanet.com/davidjohnclare
Rockin country lyrics by D. Clare
Rockin country genre
(C) in perpetuity
David W Clare Jan 2015
"My Curiosity"

(Whats her name? Now why won't she stop and talk to me?)

Trying all day to find the right merge, planning every way just how to quench this here urge
Now walking my way, I may come on to her, dare I not scare her, should I loose this cool...

All I want is just to take-a-peek, as she grabs my... attention: is she too shy to speak?

Until this fine girl I met; she hadn't found me yet - Well, there ain’t no crime in tryin', so don’t get so upset

It’s just my curiosity!  It’s got the better, the better of me
(ay ay ay ay) I can’t help if I like what I see

The chance comes once, only once in-a-while
We might just flip it upside-down tonight, so's I can teach her how to smile!

(Drums: Boom Ba Boom Ba Boom Ba Boom Boom Bap!)

Now hidin' my face isn't what I do best - I just want to know ifin' I can pass her test
You see it makes no difference if I embarrass myself
Hell, that's the only way I know to find me somebody else

I’m a thrill hunter, not some geek, Better hurry up, like there’s no time to be meek

Some say it’s the thing that really killed the cat - Well, I got nine lives: an' I ain’t turning back

It's just...My curiosity!  That's got the better, the better of me
(ay ay ay ay) I can’t help if I like what I see

Them pretty things come once, only once in-a-while
I'm gonna smash her bedroom wall, make her flower stand tall!

Say pretty lady, now maybe be sad, but I ain't no stalker or Moon howlin' mad
Say like when you give me the time of day, you might just spend a minute, not just walk away...

And satisfy, satisfy... My Curiosity!
Why, ay, ay satisfy, satisfy this: hungry guy you see!
Well satisfy, satisfy all of my curiosities
(Why ay ay) satisfy, satisfy this lonely night come see
Just make Love to Me!

David Wayne Clare  (c) In Perpetuity - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Clairvoyant Music / BMI

www.mynoisyplanet.com/davidjohnclare

Rockin country lyrics
Non plagiarized

crude a cappella demo on YouTube

Link here

My Curiosity  a cappella demo: http://youtu.be/tBk0n8xC2TI

Thank you!
Rockin country genre
Stephen Paige Jun 2014
I have an extreme hatred towards my body, and even losing weight I still despise it so much. I had this idea in my mind that once I lose the weight I want to I will love my body and love myself but I seem to hate myself and my body more as time goes on and the more weight I lose. I still can't compare to all of the attractive men in the world. There are so many men without ANY sagging skin or any stretchmarks or any love handles and I will never, ever be one of those people no matter how much weight I lose and it depresses me so much to the point where I now avoid as many social situations as I can so I don't have to look at the beautiful women in this world and want to cry because I'll never be one of them. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. Even though I'm at a healthy weight now and I have a really good BMI, I feel like I'll never be happy.  I disgust myself

Sorry.
me Dec 2019
fingers ice cold
identity pinned on arbitrary digits
spilling the rotten flowers from her insides
counting pumps of panic juice
one, two, three. not enough.
she scrubs until her hands are red and raw.
four, five, six. they're not clean enough just yet.
waking up freezing and covered in sweat,
voice filling up volumes,
feeling every person who has ever
touched her skin.
sitting and shaking in spanish class,
quietly looking up the number of sleeping pills she needs
to get into her wretched body
in order to disappear forever.
craving the feeling of the cold blade on her hot skin
the red ribbons erupting onto her sheets
blinding anger, sadness, grief turns to
physical pain
staring at "severely underweight bmi" girls
scribbling on her injured wrist what she needs
to get to that point. she's almost there.
**** yourself. **** yourself. **** yourself, she writes.
**** yourself. **** yourself. **** yourself. **** yourself.
one day, she breaks,
dying a thousand deaths as sirens wail
peeling the tape off the IV they attached to her vein
hearing her mother cry
liver damage. severe blood loss. hallucinations. stitches necessary. psych ward? she's convulsing. must be in shock.
finding herself surrounded by broken girls and boys
in a white-walled facility
made for lunatics, just like her.
smiling through session after session until they say,
she's ready.
scraping through as she plans
how to keep the dead flowers just for herself.
months later, finding herself
in another home for lunatics
tiny quiet shaking girls just like her
being fed sugar water through her nose
on her eighth day, saying
a single first word to her therapist.
okay.
sharing a room with a wrinkly zucchini of a girl
turning pink and crying when
the soft soul walks in the room,
finally giving her a beautiful flower to hold.
all her hidden blossoms spilling out of her chest
ugly, shameful plants finally revealed
for the first time in many moons,
she's no longer ashamed of them.
falling in love with the girl two doors over,
erupting into giggles
sneaking around the milieu wearing
rose coloured-glasses,
fingers intertwined.
sitting in a circle of winter girls,
our flowers resting on our laps,
our fingers warmed by
the touch of one another.
i wrote this during residential treatment for my eating disorder

— The End —