The other night I snuck into the Grammys
It really wasn't that hard you see
I was dressed as the Daft Punk dude on the left
My own mother wouldn't have recognize me

I was on the elevator at the Ritz-Carlton
When one of those robots stepped in by himself
So I knocked him out then tied him up
And left him bundled up in the stair well

I put on the suit and the helmet
It's not hard to fake a french accent in those
The only problem I encountered that evening
Was the strong desire to scratch my nose

You know I was the life of the party
Mingling with all of the stars
For awhile I sat in the row with Shawn and Yoko
Still don't know which ones from Venus and which ones from Mars

I'm sure in the circles that those two hang with
They are as normal as all of the rest
Of course most of the rockers I met that night
Put normality to the test

I was a little nervous about preforming
But I just put my boogie shoes on
The only one there who would notice my radical rhythm
Was Stevie and he couldn't see what was going on

When we went up to accept our award
I waved and mumbled under my breath
I must of made it sound mighty profound
As the crowd all clapped and nodded their heads

I really had the best of times that night
Partying like it was 1999
Prince wasn't there but who really cares
When your behind Beyonce in the Mambo line

after earning their first grammy, Eddie
Vedder stood with the other guys
in
Pearl Jam and said "I don't know what
this means or what I'm doing here."

how
do we put a grade on art? do we find
our
favorite poem and give it a smiley
face
sticker with an accolade like "good
goin!"?
do we single out a Mattisse sculpture,
give
it a round of applause and an Applebee's
gift card?

I don't have a grade for the
things
I love. that takes the fun out of loving
them.

I'll listen to your song. I'll play it
again.
I won't give it any stars but I'll give
it
all my attention.

The Grammys Celebrate Workers

“A forklift carrying barricades held up a crowd of commuters…”

-Los Angeles Times

With frosted breath, hands gloved against the cold
A working man forklifts the barricades
Into the streets, that he may block himself
From musical celebrations of work

Inside the temporary Palace of Culture
Musicians are being told what to wear
What they are for, and what they are against
Their speeches scrolled on discreet telescreens

The workers barred from work shiver and wait
For artists great, who never pay the freight

That is all.

oh how we worship the pretty people
despite them being the source of so much evil
and lust to be just like them
we find so much ******* believable and think each of them a gem

the glamorous, the beautiful, the ****
"did you see the new tweet? after the show I hope they text me!"

we follow them through the movies into their church steeples
hollywood and all it's heights of it's anointed peoples
the magazines are their bibles and we hold none of them liable
for the lies they've told or the lives they ruin being unreliable
with every story they're spinning
they want us to believe they're "winning"

marriage, divorce, wife number three
new baby carriage, move to the golf course, life under palm trees
remain calm and know things are always ok if you can sing and be pretty
I pity the soulless with hot faces, no social graces but lots of *** in the city

and we love their scandals we can't get enough
every news stand proving america has more than a crush
on the movie stars, on the models, on their cars, on the rush
of thinking we could be them if we just got a new nose and a tuck

who put Brangelina's kids' new brother on every magazine cover
but never the military heroes who live to protect you while they duck for cover?

**** the sheep who keep the weakness in our families
who want the news filled with the new runways fashion and grammys
instead of the problems that need solutions and what real life should mean
we need action and my reaction is to lift the small faction of thinkers up to be seen
we need a cause to cut loose the famous like weights and hate their *******
ignore the models, shun the actors, pay the teachers, appreciate the surgeons

being pretty is a gift not a skill
being hot isn't exactly curing cancer or healing the ill
but we still want what we can't have, much worse than reality
another prada handbag under the disposable christmas tree

them or us, I don't know what's a worse diversion
I guess I'm just not pretty enough to be a "real" person

With each poem,
I get closer in becoming a lovable Golem.

So what's hot in the streets
I’m mean
I beat women,
OG
I’ve seen prison
I even eat kittens
We winning
Mr. Kelly met me
he let me *** with him.

I’m so deep with words it could sound like an eternity
one day they will close read my rhymes in every university
I only make vinyls
and I serve emcees that burn CDs,
I’m so undergrounds even my fans haven’t even heard of me,
nah,
I got money son,
all my watches are custom done
by the time
I set the time
my butler comes with another one
I’m gutter son,
the razors in my mouth are just to cut my gums,
My facebook is set to private son
you don’t know where the **** I’m from

Imma poet,
roses are red
Moses ovaries bled
Supernova explodes,
when my pen exposes it led.
I once mounted a soul, when its body was chemically dead,
If you don’t know my poetries dope, its because its going over your head,
nah,

I’m so Hip Hop I crip walk in flip flops,
Imma mix of Rick ross, and lil kris kross,
Imma gang banger
nah,
scratch that, imma backpacker,
rap is just a stepping stone in becoming a bad actor,
imma crack rapper,
actually sponsor by arm and hammer
I **** with some proper grammar
make government propaganda
What ever it takes to get my face in front a hundred cameras
**** rap!
I’ll tell everyone in the stands to throw their hands up,

What I am
should be obvious.

Imma positive rapper I swear my mom is a pastor
I got a pocket quran
I almost read all of the chapters,
and Imma get a couple grammys,
yep and an emmy,
I'm family friendly,
even your old freakin granny gets me.

Back in the day when life gave us lemons
we made lemonade
never straight
never made a track that was second grade
In seventh grade
it was never about getting paid
thats why we spend more money than we ever made,
I used to love it but **** it,
I’m giving up
imma puppet,
I’m anything,
I’m everything, if you got money in your pocket
Congratulations to sponsors on creating a monster
All you haters are just making me stronger

And now all my fans hate me,
They say “I liked you before you were mainstream”
******* so did I somebody should of paid me
Imma Iconic,
byproduct,
And no ones tryna buy product,
Ironic,
want my chronic
but won’t put five on it,
but I promise,
give me an idea and i’ll build it,
I make your eyes pop out of your eye sockets,
so y’all can go ahead and be some hip hop heads,
pressing free download’,
until hip hops dead,
Please,
just keep on spitting
just keep on spitting
make sure you keep on spitting
just keep on spitting
make sure you keep on spitting
just keep on spitting
just keep on spitting
Please!!!

Another starlit Hemetucky night,
Finds me listening to one of my many,
Many Bonnie Raitt CDs.
Metaphorically speaking,
We must lick her ****.
Give her the recognition
She indubitably deserves.
10 GRAMMYs?
Listed as number 50 in
Rolling Stone Magazine's
100 Greatest Singers of All Time;
Number 89 on their list of the
100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time!
Lists? We humans love lists.
The HUAC loved lists also.
And while we’re on the subject of lists,
What list has your name been added to?
A statistical anomaly worthy of further
Investigation by our Big Brother in Bluff, UT,
Those guys tracking anyone goo-goo,
Googling my name, my poetry,
The poetry of Giuseppi Martino Buonaiuto,
My UNpublished poetry, i.e.,
By definition, nothing in print,
Nothing between book covers,
Nothing you can get your hands on.
Merely cyber-effervescence,
An Off World ether,
An ether although vaporous,
A digital fingerprint, nonetheless:
Quickly identifiable,
Easily reducible,
An entirely redacted,
Boiled down, cooked down roux.
A roux you’ll rue? Perhaps.
Not to mention the kanga roo,
ROO as in secret, offshore
Kangaroo courtrooms.

So know, know you’re on a list.
One of numerous Watch Lists
Watched by the Watchers who
Watch people like us.
So, if you’re reading this online,
Don’t say I didn’t frickin warn you.

BONNIE RAITT:
Of particular interest is her brilliant cover of –
Her complete musical reupholstering of--
Del Shannon’s neonatal 60s-era classic:
“Runaway.”
That twang slide-bass intro.
That harmonica squeal hovering above;
Those long, pulsing instrumentals
Punctuating her grit.  Her heart.
Her dark & lonely childhood
That drew her to true roots music.
Like me, born in 1949--
Unlike me: in Burbank, California.
Daughter of Broadway Musical Star
John Raitt: a true Roadie,
If ever there was one
Bonnie sent to private Quaker schools,
Banished to pricey summer camps.
Routine experience for any child of
Successful entertainers on the road,
Again. (Sing it, Willie!)
Bonnie: denied nothing but
Parental time invested.
Consumed by a drive to
Get the man’s attention,
Daddy’s little girl,
Addicted to ******. Fade out:
“I wah-wah-wah-wah wonder.
If you will stay, my run, run, run
My little runaway,
Come back baby,
My runaway.”

I dreamed I won three Oscars,
Four Emmys, and a Tony too.
My fireplace mantel was sagging
From the honors I accrued.

I picked up two Golden Globes,
Five Grammys plus a Pulitzer Prize.
The awards just poured in that night.
I couldn't believe my eyes.

They gave me the Nobel Peace Prize
And my very own Stanley Cup,
Then I earned a People's Choice Award
Seconds before I woke up!

Here I am pen in hand
about to write another stupid love poem
still unsure if i have ever been in love
See I used to fake love to get handsy under the bleachers
now I'm so practiced at faking love that I could probably get Grammys
My words have always been adequate enough to put smiles on girls faces
But my words have never been concrete enough to find a place with anyone in particular
Maybe that why I find it easier to bounce around from girl to girl making declarations of love to you and then again to her
I've even gotten so good at faking love that I have fooled myself into believing I'm someone worth loving
So good in fact that there are days when I wish my hands were made of sandpaper because I've been stroking my ego so much that I've started devoloping carpal tunnel in my smile
But then again I've always had pain behind my grin

My sister’s a mister. She cares for her plants,
Her orchids from Cuba, Tahiti, or France.
She grows lovely children entirely from scratch
In homemade production runs, two to the batch.
She teaches the women of her little town
To belly, to yoga, to boogie on down.
She’s always found living alone such a bore;
A harvest of husbands – she’s on number four.
She drives a Miata with careless aplomb,
The very ideal of a hot soccer mom.

But me, I was thinking of how to invent
A Booker prize novel to cover my rent,
Or lysergic rhapsodies for the guitar
Or finally learning to drive in a car.
The hours spurted onward in skips and in bounds,
Years twirling away down a hole in the ground;
How gently appalling my ultimate fate,
To grow wispy white whiskers, and sit on a gate.

She spins on the dance floor like wind on the wing,
To Western and Latin and Manhattan Swing;
Her elegant limbs grace the South Jersey beaches,
And people go mad for her raspberry quiches.
Her daughter (my niece) with her blue eyes so dear
Sets the upper crust of Baltimore on its ear,
While her brother my nephew is cutting a swath, (um)
Through the au courant circles of fashionable Gotham.
That’s my sister, triumphing wherever she goes,
And she never had anything done to her nose.

But me, I was dreaming up world-shifting rubrics,
Or imagining screenplays to shame all the Kubricks;
My ****** could make you explode in your jammies,
And my song lyrics won theoretical Grammys.
Of invisible kingdoms I was the past master,
I walked with Elijah, I lunched Zoroaster.
Yet somehow I find myself at this late date
With my brain in the clouds, and my *** on a gate.

So I take it reading this your day *****
and you want to go from a F to an A+
sit back in that chair
don't you move from right there
and I'll give you my secret to get the spirits up.

Now you'd may come off as hammy,
but imagine you're at the Oscars or Grammys
You've just won for best whatever
now you're on the stage, be clever!
so your hands and face don't get clammy

So while you're on stage with your speech
think about your past friends for a second each
now that you have them in play
here's what to say
I'd like to thank all the little people I had to step on, I wrote their names down, I'll read them off one each

There you have it, that's my secret to bring cool
and though you may think I sound like an insufferable tool
when I walk across the stage
I hope you won't be enraged
when I come by with millions at out reunion for school

you absolutely melted me
in blackberry fields wild
Barefoot dancing in hayfields
Rolled up ...

Warmth inside rising
igniting a fire
for southern Baptist tithing ...

Melons ripe
chasing lightening bugs
laughter delights...

Mosquitoes bite
dinner bell rings
Harvest veggies bring
drooling sights...

As full tummies
return under quilts
from past Grammys

       ... end with sounds

           ..... of goodnight rounds

❤️❤️❤️

Ennio Morricone
Collaboration with Sergio Leone
Whips And Whistles
New sound to background
Sphagetti Westerns backbone
Never left Rome
Music his home
400 plus films scored
Distinct sound endured
Many Auteurs frequently collaborated
Fan favorite for decades
Won Oscar for The Hateful Eight
One of two to
To get the honor
Lifetime Oscar
For Composer extraordinaire
All roads lead to Rome
All notes lead to Morricone

Lalo Schifrin
Argentinian Pianist
Cult following with memorable Scores
Jazz themed band and Grammys Galore
Television Series & Movie themes
Added value with his Name
Superstars  first choice
Studios rejoice
A list Star to Act
Lalo to compose the Soundtrack
Fans across the world
Saw movies for his score

Henri Mancini won 4 Oscar's
Immortal theme for Pink Panther
Baby Elephant Walk
For Howard Hawks
Romeo and juliet love theme
Number one on the Billboard scheme
Partnership with Directors
  Everlasting music created
Deserving Hall of Famer
Years later for many
Still the favorite composer

Elmer Bernstein
Creme de la creme
Only composer
Nominated for oscar
Every decade since the 1950s
Won for Thorough Modern Millie
Versatility the key
Budget did not  affect
Genre did neither
The Magnificent seven & The Great Escape
Tunes stand testimony
For creativity and longevity

Dave Grusin patnership with
Sydney Pollack cruising
Director Composer  combination
Last of the Finest
Grammy s lost count
Oscar made the count
Composed the music for
Columbia TRISTAR logo
Outstanding musical score
Grusin music totally pure

Roy Budd Composer
Who learnt by ear
Could play by Three
At birth a Prodigy
Soldier Blue with Candice Bergen
Gave him the due recognition
Best Pianist Award
5 years consecutive
Soundtrack for films
Each one Superlative
Score for Get Carter
In our memories forever
Brain hemorrhage
Took him away  at an early age

Jerry Goldsmith debuted
in live television
Rambo and Star Trek
Franchise to name a few
His compositions always new
Composers like him
A very few
The Omen finally
got him his due
Paramount & Universal pictures
The music accompanying
The logos of the Studios
Jerry doing his wizardry
With the audio
Grammy and Oscar nominations
To be counted
Four more pairs of hands
Need to be included

Marvin Hamlisch winner
Of three Oscars
All in the same year
The Sting and The Way We were
Nobody does it better
Only one after Richard Rogers
To win The Grammy Tony Emmy Oscar and the Pulitzer

Bill Conti score for Rocky
One of the most Remembered in movie history
Replaced John Barry
In For your eyes only
Scored for the Oscar
Ceremony
19 times a record
envy of many
Won Oscar and Emmy
No Dynasty or Cagney & Lacey
without Conti

John Barry score for Sean Connery as James Bond
The super spy
A permanent legacy
Created by the supremacy
Of his musical ability
5 time oscar winner
From North Yorkshire
Illness threatened career Came back better then ever
Sold out concerts
Arena sized halls
Glory again after a fall
Oscar for The Lion in Winter
His personal favorite Goldfinger

Maurice Jarre  Composer and Conductor
Won 3 Oscars
All collaborations
with David Lean
Big Budget Films
His speciality
The Themes popularity
Showcased his versatility
His music told the story
Close your eyes and
You will know the reality
Appealing to every taste
Was Jarre's forte

David Shire
Winner of the Oscar
For Norma Rae
Composer & Songwriter
Streisands Pianist
Scored for Television & Movies
Conversation and Pelham
Musical confirmation
That his compositions
Will bear the
Test of time

Michel Legrand
son of a Composer
Winner of 3 Oscars
Conductor for many of
The French New Wave directors
Founder of the French Musical
Windmills of your mind
Forever etched in our minds
Over 200 films in a career
Prolific in nature
Select from his repertoire
Of music
Fill the air with Legrand magic

Michael Small son of an actor
Became a composer
Parallax View & Night Moves
Provides you with the mood
Alan Pakula & Arthur Penn
Directors for whom notes he penned
Sidney Lumet Bob Rafelson & John Schleisinger
Legends in their own right
Small' talent shined bright
Prostate cancer
Took away this Great Music Director

Charles Bernstein used Music & Sound effects
To maximum effect
Oscar Winning Documentary
Which had no oral commentary
To tell the story
Scored for horror genre
A cult in the sub culture
Burt Reynolds in White Lightning first chance to
Score for a feature
Charles Bronson in Mr Majestyk
Made these films click

John Williams pianist for
Goldsmith Bernstein & Mancini
Second only to Walt Disney
In Oscar Nominations
52 and counting
Winner greatest Soundtrack
Of all time
Star Wars earned him that name &  fame
Widely regarded as most successful  Musician
Positivity is the key
Particular theme  for different characters
Greatest ever

Everyday I see her or think of her I think of all the horrible things she’s done in our lives
But the one that sticks out always is my mom
Screaming ****** ****** at him and throwing a fork into the door
As he closed it trying to run away
Every morning waking up and seeing the fork still there
And my brother still gone
For a while not knowing where he was
Till I found out he was safe at my Grammys
One day the fork was gone and my brother eventually came back
He always came back to make sure I was okay
But the dent in the door even on good days I’d still look at it and not be able to move on from that day
I had seen my mom hit him
I seen her call him a *******
Yell at him
But never feel so angry
At the child she chose to have
That she willing to hurt him
In a way that would affect more than a few days
Her bruises are easy to hide
“I easily bruise”
“I get random bruises from running into things”
We could make up so many excuses
Stay there as her shinny trophies
On the stage next to her
Ready to preform in all her shows
Everyone remembers us as the best kids but he was always the one brushed off
He reached his age limit
I was still young enough to be the trophy to walk around with
The perfect kid
Who listened and stayed at attention always
Ready for your every command
Even at that age it felt wrong but I couldn’t  understand why
As I got older people grew up around few got glimpses at who she was trying to hide
The demon that she’s let take control
Most ignored some slowly distance
Now there people I can’t remember the names of
My mom would be proud of me for that
Some stuck around picked up on details and painted a picture showing exactly what that demon is
They were left behind
Never aloud to contact us again
Now her veil is gone the few staying close
Are the ones I fear
She thinks she can bring back the old friends but she forgets she now has someone pulling puppet strings
Or maybe this is truly who she’s always been
I just like to think I had it better before the day the fork hit that door

Right at midnight
All I saw was red and blue.
all I felt was nothing but the metal on my wrists and the hard plastic seat.
They parked the car outside a large building.
They laid me down and strapped me on the bed. As time goes by I forgot how long I’ve been in this room they put me in.
Not allowing me to roam.
I believe two or three nights.
For I believe the third day they moved me to a new room. I called it the musical chairs.
We all were stuck on our on islands screaming and laughing all we could.
They gave us pills as some called them candies to keep us happy.
For two nights we stayed seated in these chairs not a single toe touching the floor. For who did touch the floor were dancers who performed without music.
the music stopped and that meant for me to find another seat.
I was given a scrub to wear.
And a room with two beds.  
I stayed alone with a stranger.
Not speaking to each other not even a single word.
only screams were heard coming out of both of us.
They’d wake us up and force us to make our bed, to take a shower.
To eat breakfast and drown us In chocolate.
I Saw a man get dragged and injected with a needle. For he acted violently towards the security. Just cause he didn’t want to drink his milk.
On scheduled days I would talk to a doctor on how i was feeling. If I was feeling anything.
I forgot how long I have been in this building. I forgot the sounds of the outside world. I felt like I was in a routine. I loved it. the feeling of living the same day. Not expecting anything different the next day. My mind ran like a robot.  I was running on a program in my head not having to force anything like emotions.
but in this place you find someone who finds the hidden emotion like love.
She wasn’t meant for the building. Not even for the outside world. She had her own world made for her. Her mind ran faster and her movements as well. let’s just call her Loons.
Loons had hair like gold and eyes like the ocean.
Her skin was pale like a ghost. But her lips were pink. And they felt soft. as they let us watch the Grammys for it was November or December. It was cold but loons kept me warm through out my cold time. She kept me company.
But As everything ends as it’s suppose to. She was moved away to another part of the building.

I was left with the screams and the jokers.
About three months passed. I was released and I heard and saw everything I had not seen in so long. The sky was brighter and the noises were louder. Even the wind blew faster and stronger. It was difficult to stand on my two feet. The world outside was something I didn’t miss. If I could be locked up in this building again I would.
Time went on and I haven’t forgotten her. Not a single day without thinking of her face. For she haunts the back of my head. she keeps me awake at night. And I think of her. It’s been 10 years and I haven’t forgotten. And I know I won’t forget.