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Tina ford May 2015
Stevie G!
What will Liverpool be,
Without you,
Your the one,
Our only son,
But what's done is done,

Stevie G!
What will football be,
Without you,
Your the best,
Above the rest,
In the north west,

Stevie G!
What will we be,
Without you,
Your our heart,
It's broken apart,
You have a new start,

Stevie G!
You will always be,
Our hero lad,
Good luck to you,
In all you do,
We love you,

Stevie G!
Remember me,
Without you,
Liverpool will cry,
Tears in our eye,
When you say goodbye,
To our Stevie G.
you see Steven Bradley and ronnie biggs are destroying the world at the moment

through tornadoes and shark attacks and heat waves and a fire storm in victoria which the

rain couldn’t stop, despite how it stopped, and then ronnie really was having a field day

with the big heat waves attacking the homes of many innocent people, you see Greame Thornes

current life Brian Allan, went to the great ocean road in 2012 and steven bradley used his power

to make every home destroyed, fortunately none of the people died but they are homeless and

that can be worst, well they might not be homeless, but still steven and Ronnie are having a field day

killing off the entire world, and the great ocean road was only the start, you see steven bradley and

Ronnie biggs were starting to make a tornado siege in Texas and demolishing homes forcing people

to be homeless, and then Stephen Bradley said, I have you i have you i have you,if we make the USA

bad, we can make Cronus suffer, and making cronus suffer was the main answer, and then the death

of Stevie Wright, which was made so he can get his hands on ronnie biggs and Stephen Bradley and force them

down but in hindsight, they he can’t stop them alone, and that is what he killed his body, but he had a great life

singing the party anthem called Friday on my mind and Evie let your hair hands down, well he wasn’t the only singer

who died on their way to battle the deadly tornado, you see Lemmy from the band Motorhead was getting sick of the tornadoes in the world

and sang a song to rid the tornadoes away from the after life, here it is

please please please i want the tornado gone

i don’t care how long it takes, it just ain’t welcome here

you see what the world doesn’t know what i know since my death

that all the old criminals down there in christiean hell

are causing problems oh yeah, i want to bring peace

and i want the devil to be calmed

my music was heavy but i ain’t as bad as the great

roninie Biggs and Stephen Bradley, they caused a lot of problems

please people of the earth, please take procautions

if you want to save your home and not want these satan criminals to win, well fine

but the police aren’t against you, please save yourselves

and don’t put the evil ronnie ‘Biggs and Stephen Bradley into the the police mans voices

because dudes it’s hard you see

I am not at all happy oh no not me

you see these criminals were evil, and that is not like my music

we need to calm these christians who think loud music is the work of the devil

i think i see Ted Bundy, and he is still killing despite being dead

and osama is having a field day making you guys hate muslims

dudes, all this isn’t easy to beat, like my mate Stevie Wright from a a band called the easy beats

we need to get together and stop these evil criminals,

because the only way if we can find eternal happiness is if we all worked together

please please please stop all the world, like heal the world and make it a better place

for me and Stevie and the entire human race, and micheal Jackson who sang that wonderful song

make this universe stronger for you and me, and i must tell you, stop evil stop evil

stop the evil spirits from terrorising our world, you see as i played my guitar really loud to hopefully calm Ronnie and Stephen down

I know it’s the weather, and i know it ain’t believable, but believe me, i wanted to die, to save the world from evil spirits

and this is causing a lot of problems with every member of the earth, and the earth can be destroyed if we don’t stop the evil

the way you stop the evil is get yourself fixed and think about your actions and get rid of the brian Allan word protectaselfer, ya know

all they care about is protecting themselves and not give a **** about anyone else and Stevie Wright sang

we are going to have fun on new years eve la la la la la la la la la

get with the girls who are so pretty la la la la la

and don’t get too drunk man it’s not real cool, it just takes the man out of you

and as we are getting close to new years eve, we are hoping that nothing known to man takes away the problems of nye

and Lemmy and Stevie wright get together to create the peace of this entire earth, and tara is starting to cause problems

with the earth, saying our future is going to be bad, when the world is too wrong for Tara

so Lemmy from Motorhead and Stevie Wright gathered together on Jupiter where Stephen Bradley and Ronnie Biggs are

to force the tornadoes to not cause too many problems, but bad guys are powerful up here, and the best thing to do is

just be yourself and protect each other on earth and enjoy themselves and stop the reign of evil which is happening in the cosmos
Stevie Ray Mar 2015
"C'mon Stevie you got to show them what you're made off!"
"I did and your mother was very impressed."

"C'mon Stevie you got to show them what you're made off!"
"I auditioned but they said I was too big."

"C'mon Stevie you got to show them what you're made off!"
"You do realise that Kathryn Janeway reffered to me everytime she said 'Captain's Log' don't you?"

"C'mon Stevie you need to go out more and show the world what you can do."
I can't, I'm like Japanese ****. Entirely censored.

"Come inside"
chuckles

"Can I come over?"
"You"
"What?"
"What?"

"*******!"
"You're On!"

"*******"
"."

"C'mon Stevie show em what you're made off!"
"Have you read this?"
Sa Sa Ra Dec 2012
...Sky Isa Love!!!!
THAT IS ALL!!!!!!!!!

BILL WITHERS - LEAN ON ME LYRICS
*
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v;=JR0NZqu6igg

Lean On Me (Live) From a 1973 Concert
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Wpof8s5ZTg

Love potion number 9, The Searchers
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7rXhXLsNJL8

White Wine In The Sun by Tim Minchin
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCNvZqpa-7Q

MOTOWN MAGIC!!!!!!
Sa Sa Go Go Go

BEST OF MOTOWN....BREATHE...Sky Isa Love

I Can't Get Next To You, Psychedelic Shack (the Temptations),
Bernadette (The Four Tops),
Everyday People (Sly & The Family),
I just Called To Say I Love You (Stevie Wonder)
Ain't Too Proud To Beg (The Temptations),
Back In My Arms Again (The Supremes)
Build Me Up Buttercup (The Foundations)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=--jWPzNNdN4

Best Of Motown Part 2 Video Mix of;
My Cherie Amour (Stevie Wonder),
I'm Gonna Make You Love Me (Diana Ross & The Supremes with the Temptations),
What's Going On (Marvin Gaye)
Love Child (Diana Ross & The Supremes),
Runaway Child Running Wild (The Temptations),
For Once In My Life (Stevie Wonder},
I'm Losing You (The Temptations),
What Does It Takes (Jr Walker & The All Stars),
Stop In The Name Of Love (Diana Ross & The Supremes),
Reach Out I'll Be There (Four Tops),
I Can't Help Myself (Four Tops),
Get Ready (The Temptations),
Dancing In The Street (Martha & The Vandellas)
I Hear A Symphony (Diana Ross & The Supremes).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v;=VTe06PrXwo4

Top Tracks for Earth, Wind & Fire....
Starts with;
"Fantasy" (1977)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kTQJ2QiK4QU&playnext;=1&list;=AL94UKMTqg-9AIdf-oDDL0ZRzIehPw5WY6

Top Tracks for Diana Ross & the Supremes
Starts with;
Love Child!!!!
Beautiful imagery!!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_IluVWcNtR8&list;=AL94UKMTqg-9BkdB7ckbcLpD9AIriJX-5P

The Power of Music & Images
Used On One Of The Most Popular
& Most Loved Ballads Of All Time, Enjoy!!!

Top Tracks for Chicago
Starts with;

Hard To Say I'm Sorry

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqq3tW3iACw&playnext;=1&list;=AL94UKMTqg-9ABX4lv1Ast8ZktnOYg-vpB


Okay so double triple down on this!!!!!!!!
LOVE CHILD Diana Ross & The Supremes
~Sky Isa Love~~
What can I say my first album;

LOVE CHILD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Gets me every time!!!!!!!
More Beautiful Imagery!!!
Afu Ra Ka ALL!!!!! (see note)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2icqNPcNS4

EARTH WIND & FIRE-WOULD YOU MIND
...Sky Isa Love
very beautiful once again!!!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2rInQEQ-yUc

A Motown mega-mix mashup: Motor City's biggest hits combined with classic Christmas songs, sung by your favorite Motown stars.
Includes....

"I Saw My Girl Kissing Santa Claus"
"I Jingle That Emotion"
"I Heard It From The Red Nosed Reindeer"
"Claus Get Next To You"
"Santa Was a Rollin' Stone"
"Ain't No Silent First Noel"

...as performed by....

Stevie Wonder
Michael Jackson
Smokey Robinson
The Temptations
The Supremes
The Mormon Tabernacle Choir

...and, of course, the Funk Brothers.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNvoSf2389k

THAT IS ALL!!!
LOVE ALL!!!!
*Sa Sa Ra!!!!
Bonus tracks!!!!!
"JOY"!!!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QtYnCmw2CWE

"Jubilee"!!!!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_4audt7QHYo

Notes:

In Lak'ech Ala K'in
Afu Ra Ka
Which reminds me
I'm just another Red Letter
Muslim Jew Adieu as Zen Master
says in the Tao of Hindu's Krishna as
Buddha's Bodhisattva's Love in the Great
Middle Way of Mother's Forever Embracing
Zarathustra a son's spiritual fostering to heirs as
Abraham of Love in Folly and Light All of Daughters
and All Sons Sown sowing in and out of forgiveness reap
Satyam Shivam Sundram Love Truly as Kindness in Action
as Beauty Be of Great Spirits's Ka- Alling Afu Ra's Childeren All
Must Be One Great Womb Where Our Love's Light Spirit Breathes
Within as without, above and below every rainbow I Am Another You

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/in-lakech-ala-kin/
(click for additional notes!!!)

Indeed; 'It is time now for' All Men and Women 'to become Afu-Ra-Kan, (African), again.'
"Male and female houses for the soul and spirit of the Divine Creator"

The Afu-Ra-Kans, (Africans),
Were always happy to teach the human family that which was beneficial to all.
The following is a portion of the first constitution.
You can find the full version in aforementioned book by Scholar Chancellor Williams.

Plus;
A Native American Code of Ethics
From Shaman Cloud & the FireBear

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/heavenly-spirit-unite-within-our-earthly-existence/
(click for additional, plus notes!!!)
Although those many years have passed
Having every bit of reason to grasp
The true message in his songs
Seen him twice in Hartford, Ct
That brother made a dent in my true memory as a young G
Spring love made me fall in love
Then it was in your eyes what a surprise
Onto Diamond Girl that's when I smoked a lot of ****
There was no one quite like the likes of Stevie B
Many young girls had lost their virginity to his soft melody
Mr. Post Man because I love you to name a few
Back then the tunes to late night high school dances
Caught up in trances with his smooth romances
Man they don't make music like that anymore
everything is vinyl now & tapes are out the door
going to the beach with the roof top down on my car
love was never so good when Stevie B was in the hood
faces, spaces & traces
beats blowing your mind
I once could see but today's youth are blind
to get your eighties groove on just leave it to the man
In My Eyes did it come at any big surprise
The music industry today is not the same everyone it seems is insane
We need a blast from the past as Stevie B
Let's see him make a good come back
cause folks today are giving me a heart attack
from the heart let us never depart until the end its just me & Stevie B
Steven Hutchison Apr 2014
Tell me how your fingertips sing, Stevie
Tell me how you taught them to dance
Your world so dark behind the curtain
Tell me about the rhythm of chance

Tell me where you found your smile, Stevie
Tell me how many people you’ve blessed
Our world so dark with life uncertain
Tell me about music’s caress

Tell me why it is you’re singing, Stevie
Tell me why you are and I’m not
My world so dark with vision’s burden
Tell me what your world’s got

Tell me how to see what my eyes don’t, Stevie
Tell me how to sing in the dark
Your world so bright shines through your person
Tell me how to open my heart
Richie Vincent Jul 2018
Goodnight moonlight,

Sweet dreams, moonlight,

I am away now,

Driving under your blanket, your bright stars lighting everywhere dark,

It is a late hot summer night, however I have turned the heat on, on this long summer road,

It reminds me of you,

Warm, open, and free,

I like it this way,

Windows down, hot air blowing, there is no room for cold here,

I like to play the radio soft,

It reminds me of you,

Stevie, you feel like the 80s,

And your voice reminds me of hers too,

My headlights illuminating the street signs just enough for them to dance, like everything has just a little bit of magic in it,

The first time I met you, you shook my hand, moonlight, and you were embarrassed about it, I thought it was kind of cute,

I might just keep you in my chest pocket on this ride home,

I will see you tomorrow night,

Same time, same place,

Goodnight moonlight
jeffrey conyers Aug 2012
I heard them called out to Stevie.
And saw a gorgeous girl turn around.
I never put that name to her.
So, I walked completely passed her.
I hear them called out to Kim.
And a guy turned around.

In my mind.
In my thoughts.
I said to myslef.
This guy is a clown.

But, after some explanation.
I realized my stupidity.
That these two people was called names.
That we know was linked to a him or a her.

Because, we have people named after fruits.
And even that confuses me too.
So, if she's Stevie.
And, this guy is called Kim.
All, I can say is more power to them.

Because Johnny Cash sung about a guy name Sue.
And went even further to ask.
How do you do?
Nigel Morgan Jul 2013
It was their first time, their first time ever. Of course neither would admit to it, and neither knew, about the other that is, that they had never done this before. Life had sheltered them, and they had sheltered from life.

Their biographies put them in their sixties. Never mind the Guardian magazine proclaiming sixty to be the new fifty. Albert and Sally were resolutely sixty – ish. To be fair, neither looked their age, but then they had led such sheltered lives, hadn’t they. He had a mother, she had a father, and that pretty much wrapped it up. They had spent respective lives being their parents’ companions, then carers, and now, suddenly this. This intimacy, and it being their first time.

When their contemporaries were befriending and marrying and procreating, and home-making and care-giving and child-minding, and developing their first career, being forced to start a second, overseeing teenagers and suddenly being parents again, but grandparents this time – with evenings and some weekends allowed – Albert and Sally had spent their time writing. They wrote poetry in their respective spaces, at respective tables, in almost solitude, Sally against the onslaught of TV noise as her father became deaf. Albert had the refuge of his childhood bedroom and the table he’d studied at – O levels, A levels, a degree and a further degree, and a little later on that PhD. Poetry had been his friend, his constant companion, rarely fickle, always there when needed. If Albert met a nice-looking woman in the library and lost his heart to her, he would write verse to quench not so much desire of a physical nature, but a desire to meet and to know and to love, and to live the dream of being a published poet.

Oh Sally, such a treasure; a kind heart, a sweet nature, a lovely disposition. Confused at just seventeen when suddenly she seemed to mature, properly, when school friends had been through all that at thirteen. She was passed over, and then suddenly, her body became something she could hardly deal with, and shyness enveloped her because her mother would say such things . . . but, but she had her bookshelf, her grandfather’s, and his books (Keats and Wordsworth saved from the skip) and then her books. Ted Hughes, Dylan Thomas (oh to have been Kaitlin, so wild and free and uninhibited and whose mother didn’t care), Stevie Smith, U.E. Fanthorpe, and then, having taken her OU degree, the lure of the small presses and the feminist canon, the subversive and the down-right weird.

Albert and Sally knew the comfort of settling ageing parents for the night and opening (and firmly closing) the respective doors of their own rooms, in Albert’s case his bedroom, with Sally, a box room in which her mother had once kept her sewing machine. Sally resolutely did not sew, nor did she knit. She wrote, constantly, in notebook after notebook, in old diaries, on discarded paper from the office of the charity she worked for. Always in conversation with herself as she moulded the poem, draft after draft after draft. And then? She went once to writers’ workshop at the local library, but never again. Who were these strange people who wrote only about themselves? Confessional poets. And she? Did she never write about herself? Well, occasionally, out of frustration sometimes, to remind herself she was a woman, who had not married, had not borne children, had only her father’s friends (who tried to force their unmarried sons on her). She did write a long sequence of poems (in bouts-rimés) about the man she imagined she would meet one day and how life might be, and of course would never be. No, Sally, mostly wrote about things, the mystery and beauty and wonder of things you could touch, see or hear, not imagine or feel for. She wrote about poppies in a field, penguins in a painting (Birmingham Art Gallery), the seashore (one glorious week in North Norfolk twenty years ago – and she could still close her eyes and be there on Holkham beach).  Publication? Her first collection went the rounds and was returned, or not, as is the wont of publishers. There was one comment: keep writing. She had kept writing.

Tide Marks

The sea had given its all to the land
and retreated to a far distant curve.
I stand where the waves once broke.

Only the marks remain of its coming,
its going. The underlying sand at my feet
is a desert of dunes seen from the air.

Beyond the wet strand lies, a vast mirror
to a sky laundered full of haze, full of blue,
rinsed distances and shining clouds.


When Albert entered his bedroom he drew the curtains, even on a summer’s evening when still light. He turned on his CD player choosing Mozart, or Bach, sometimes Debussy. Those three masters of the piano were his favoured companions in the act of writing. He would and did listen to other music, but he had to listen with attention, not have music ‘on’ as a background. That Mozart Rondo in A minor K511, usually the first piece he would listen to, was a recording of Andras Schiff from a concert at the Edinburgh Festival. You could hear the atmosphere of a capacity audience, such a quietness that the music seemed to feed and enter and then surround and become wondrous.

He’d had a history teacher in his VI form years who allowed him the run of his LP collection. It had been revelation after revelation, and that had been when the poetry began. They had listened to Tristan & Isolde into the early hours. It was late June, A levels over, a small celebration with Wagner, a bottle of champagne and a bowl of cherries. As the final disc ended they had sat in silence for – he could not remember how long, only from his deeply comfortable chair he had watched the sky turn and turn lighter over the tall pine trees outside. And then, his dear teacher, his one true friend, a young man only a few years out of Cambridge, rose and went to his record collection and chose The Third Symphony by Vaughan-Williams, his Pastoral Symphony, his farewell to those fallen in the Great War  – so many friends and music-makers. As the second movement began Albert wept, and left abruptly, without the thanks his teacher deserved. He went home, to the fury of his father who imagined Albert had been propositioned and assaulted by his kind teacher – and would personally see to it that he would never teach again. Albert was so shocked at this declaration he barely ever spoke to his father again. By eight o’clock that June morning he was a poet.

For Ralph

A sea voyage in the arms of Iseult
and now the bowl of cherries
is empty and the Perrier Jouet
just a stain on the glass.

Dawn is a mottled sky
resting above the dark pines.
Late June and roses glimmer
in a deep sea of green.

In the still near darkness,
and with the volume low,
we listen to an afterword:
a Pastoral Symphony for the fallen.

From its opening I know I belong
to this music and it belongs to me.
Wholly. It whelms me over
and my face is wet with tears.


There is so much to a name, Sally thought, Albert, a name from the Victorian era. In the 1950s whoever named their first born Albert? Now Sally, that was very fifties, comfortably post-war. It was a bright and breezy, summer holiday kind of name. Saying it made you smile (try it). But Light-foot (with a hyphen) she could do without, and had hoped to be without it one day. She was not light-footed despite being slim and well proportioned. Her feet were too big and she did not move gracefully. Clothes had always been such a nuisance; an indicator of uncertainty, of indecision. Clothes said who you were, and she was? a tallish woman who hid her still firm shape and good legs in loose tops and not quite right linen trousers (from M & S). Hair? Still a colour, not yet grey, she was a shale blond with grey eyes. She had felt Albert’s ‘look’ when they met in The Barton, when they had been gathered together like show dogs by the wonderful, bubbly (I know exactly what to wear – and say) Annabel. They had arrived at Totnes by the same train and had not given each other a second glance on the platform. Too apprehensive, scared really, of what was to come. But now, like show dogs, they looked each other over.

‘This is an experiment for us,’ said the festival director, ‘New voices, but from a generation so seldom represented here as ‘emerging’, don’t you think?’

You mean, thought Albert, it’s all a bit quaint this being published and winning prizes for the first time – in your sixties. Sally was somewhere else altogether, wondering if she really could bring off the vocal character of a Palestinian woman she was to give voice to in her poem about Ramallah.

Incredibly, Albert or Sally had never read their poems to an audience, and here they were, about to enter Dartington’s Great Hall, with its banners and vast fireplace, to read their work to ‘a capacity audience’ (according to Annabel – all the tickets went weeks ago). What were Carcanet thinking about asking them to be ‘visible’ at this seriously serious event? Annabel parroted on and on about who’d stood on this stage before them in previous years, and there was such interest in their work, both winning prizes The Forward and The Eliot. Yet these fledgling authors had remained stoically silent as approaches from literary journalists took them almost daily by surprise. Wanting to know their backstory. Why so long a wait for recognition? Neither had sought it. Neither had wanted it. Or rather they’d stopped hoping for it until . . . well that was a story all of its own, and not to be told here.

Curiosity had beckoned both of them to read each other’s work. Sally remembered Taking Heart arriving in its Amazon envelope. She brought it to her writing desk and carefully opened it.  On the back cover it said Albert Loosestrife is a lecturer in History at the University of Northumberland. Inside, there was a life, and Sally had learnt to read between the lines. Albert had seen Sally’s slim volume Surface and Depth in Blackwell’s. It seemed so slight, the poems so short, but when he got on the Metro to Whitesands Bay and opened the bag he read and became mesmerised.  Instead of going home he had walked down to the front, to his favourite bench with the lighthouse on his left and read it through, twice.

Standing in the dark hallway ready to be summoned to read Albert took out his running order from his jacket pocket, flawlessly typed on his Elite portable typewriter (a 21st birthday present from his mother). He saw the titles and wondered if his voice could give voice to these intensely personal poems: the horror of his mother’s illness and demise, his loneliness, his fear of being gay, the nastiness and bullying experienced in his minor university post, his observations of acquaintances and complete strangers, train rides to distant cities to ‘gather’ material, visit to galleries and museums, homages to authors, artists and composers he loved. His voice echoed in his head. Could he manage the microphone? Would the after-reading discussion be bearable? He looked at Sally thinking for a moment he could not be in better company. Her very name cheered him. Somehow names could do that. He imagined her walking on a beach with him, in conversation. Yes, he’d like that, and right now. He reckoned they might have much to share with each other, after they’d discussed poetry of course. He felt a warm glow and smiled his best smile as she in astonishing synchronicity smiled at him. The door opened and applause beckoned.
Mark Jun 2020
ROLL UP, ROLL UP - WELCOME TO THE BIG TOP PARK  
From the 6th diary entry of Stewy Lemmon's childhood adventures.  
 
Holidays were almost here again, and Mum and Dad loved to take us all to our favourite caravan park called Rolling River Retreat, where all of our friends from past years would once again be there with their families.  
 
My Dad made our very own caravan by hand, painted with artistic flair and built (of course) in his unusually built and outrageously painted, backyard, out back shed. It was such a sight for all of the people that drove past us in their cars, on our way to our holiday retreat.  
 
All our friends from the caravan park retreat, also thought our colourful caravan looked such a treat, that many of them phoned mum and dad and told them about the surprise for us kids once we arrived at the retreat. They had all decided this year; they too would have something cool looking and really neat at the retreat.  
 
Are we there yet, we would ask again and again, then after a little longer us kids fell asleep. We were then awoken by the sound of BomBom BomBom BomBom, and then we knew we were crossing the last old bridge from the nearby town and into the big and top park of all time. It was a very old and bumpy bridge and we all knew its sound.  
 
As we were crossing the old Rolling River Bridge, we noticed the water level was much higher than usual, and moving ever so fast. The locals had told us when we had to refuel the car that the rain hadn't stopped coming down for weeks and weeks. They also said that today the sun was finally coming out from behind those dark clouds and hopefully now it wouldn't be so bleak.  
 
So lucky for us and all of our friends, that we picked our holiday time when the sun decided to peak. As we rolled up to the world's top caravan park, we were all welcomed by the always friendly, park manager Andy and his wife Cindy. He had been the manager there for twenty-three years, and my Dad also knew Andy from when he was a child.  
 
We then saw our friends, with a smile on their dials and so loud with great cheer, when the Lemmon's had finally arrived. There was our great Spanish friend Pablo, who we would call Poppa Pablo, and who loved his various and very tamed pets. There was old senior, Jay Walken the Lolly shop owner, and the very funny musical brothers Anastasia and Houllio from Mexico.  
 
We saw Johnny "The Greek Carpenter" and his son Stevie, also Andy's old pen-pal friend, Joel from Texas, USA. We were allowed to call him, Cowboy Tex. he was walking with a slight shuffle, while wearing a huge 10 gallon hat. Last to see us was my favourite grown up friend, Marko. He would do magical tricks for us every year and his wife Louise and their son Jacob, who was studying architecture. It's something to do with drawings or designs, I think.  
 
They all gave us hugs and high fives, and said, now come with us, for you will all be in for a real treat. We turned the corner and there they all were. The old looking caravans of previous years, had all been cleverly painted with great  character and artistic flair.  
 
Poppa Pablo, who loved animals, painted his caravan to look like a zoo. The old senior, Jay Walken (the Candyman) painted his, to look like a van full of lollies. The funny Mexican, musical brothers Anastasia and Houllio, had painted a bunch of colourful and zany looking Mexican clowns, playing all of their favourite instruments. Which included, drums, trumpets, harmonicas and guitars on the side of their van. Johnny "The Greek Carpenter" and his son Stevie, decided to paint shapes, houses, hammers, nails and ladders of course. Marko, Louise and their son Jacob, had a very futuristic designed van with rabbits, hats, juggling *****, a box and a saw and a cleaver trap-door. All had been designed with precision and at very clever angles, that's for sure.  
 
The last caravan we saw was extra long, for it was Cowboy Tex's, and he even had a van for his pony named, Bubski. Cowboy Tex had painted his in Red, White and Blue and in the middle a large star from Texas, where else.  
 
That night we went to bed early after such a long trip, for tomorrow we were all going on a drive and having a picnic lunch in the local mountains and then into town at night to see the travelling circus.  
 
In the morning, we all made our way in convoy, towards the old and bumpy Rolling River Bridge. But it had been closed overnight by the police, because of the rain and the damage it had made. Dad spoke to the local policeman, who said, the bad weather had taken its toll, on the old bumpy bridge and it had damaged a few large poles.  
 
We all went back to our holiday park and started to unpack. All of the childre were very upset, because, they had missed out on seeing the circus. Then, my Dad and his friends had a long talk, while sitting together around the campfire. They were trying to figure out, what they could do, to cheer up the children.  
 
Meanwhile, the kids decided to spend the rest of the day in the Rolling River Retreat's, games room. After chatting and playing, for quite awhile, we heard all sorts of noises,coming from outside. But my Mum told us, don't worry, just keep having fun and talking together.  
 
Later that afternoon, we heard someone yelling out,'Roll up, Roll up, Welcome to the Big Top Park'. We all rushed outside, but couldn't believe what we were seeing. The circus, had somehow, come to our park.  
 
We all started walking, towards the funny clowns who were falling down. There was even a Candy shop selling all sorts of yummies, like fairy floss, lollies and even teeth candy.  
 
We all took our seats at the front, and started listening to the funny clowns, playing a musical beat. Then a big voice shouted out loud, let's all thank the parents and friends for bringing the circus straight to you. After a while, we realised it was my Dad. He was introducing all of the performers, who would entertain us, in style.  
 
The funny clowns playing the musical instruments and falling down were the brothers, Anastasia and Houllio, and the man serving candy was none other than, the old senior Mr Jay Walken, of course.  
 
The show was starting, and the first act was, Poppa Pablo with his variety of animals. His Great Dane named, Duke, was jumping and rolling all about, his orange cat called, Tabby, was boxing with some hanging *****. His Guinea Pig called, Pauly was whizzing around through plastic pipes, and so much more. Then his little yellow baby duck named, Dina was following Pablo, wherever he went.  
 
Poppa Pablo, then grabbed Smoochy from me, and put him on a large See-Saw. He then got his Great Dane named, Duke stand on the other end. 'Whisssshhhhh, I wasn't here', Smoochy seemed to yell out, but I was ready for him. Luckily, he landed in straight in my top left-hand side pocket.  
 
Next act, was dancing from my two, much older, identical twin sisters Emma and Jemma. I found them rather boring, so I yelled out, ' next act please'.  
 
Even my Mum, Flo was giving it a go. She had held in a large bowl, my favourite fruit snacks. Then, all of a sudden, she tossed an apple into the air, then straight after that, a whole banana went up. She then grabbed an orange, that's three at a time, wow, she was juggling her fruit, real fine. It was something, I have never ever, seen done before, I hope they don't fall!  
 
The funny clown brothers, then asked the audience, for a hand. I put up Lemmy's hand and Smoochy's as well. They put Lemmy in a very small homemade car, then following behind was, Pablo's orange cat, named,Tabby, and then his Guinea Pig called, Pauly. All looking so relaxed, in a car, each of their own.  
 
At the front of the cars was, Cowboy Tex and his faithful Polish pony named, Bubski. All of the cars had been hooked up, near the back of his tail. Around and around, they did two laps, as they sat quietly.  
 
The last act of the night was, Marko the Magician and his assistant Louise. He performed some wonderful tricks, and even pulled a cute rat, out of a top hat. I then yelled out, 'wait a sec!', I think that's my best friend, and new grouse pet mouse, Smoochy.  
 
Then, my sister Emma, was introduced into this part of the show. She stood in one of the two boxes, set up on stage, and with a black cloth, Marko, then covered the front of her body. With the magical words of "getoutofheregooverthere", and in a flash of an eye, she quickly reappeared, in no time at all. But in the other wooden box, that was so far away. Wow, Marko is the best magician, I have ever seen. I wanted to know, the secret of that trick, but he didn't even give me a clue.  
 
At the end of the night, Andy the friendly park manager, got on the microphone and said, 'can we all please applaud, these wonderful acts'. Starting with, Archie Lemmon, Johnny "The Greek Carpenter" and his son Stevie for building and painting the circus arena. Also, Jacob for the stage design and forcarefully planning all that.  
 
Wow, what a great night had by all, but, I don't think Smoochy, will ever talk to me again. Mainly, because it was me, who put up his hand, for that very scary circus, high flying act.
© Fetchitnow
20 October 2019.
This children’s fun adventure book series, is only for children from ages, 1-100. So please enjoy.
Note: Please read these in order, from diary entry 1-12, to get the vibe of all of the characters and the colourful sense of this crazy mess.
v Jan 2019
Black girl can’t twerk.
Black girl can’t handle hair grease.
Black girl is half white girl
     is
Grey girl
            is
White ******* 8 mile
     is
Black girl in cop cars
                 is
Not black enough
    is
Basking under the “Yes, there are black people in Portland” sign.

Black girl’s dad left
so white girl sits at Mormon thanksgiving.

Black girl says “wus good” to
wake up
and work with
within “welcome
to Starbucks
what can we get started for you today?”

White boy says “you a real *****”
Black girl turns around and says
“I already know.”
You’ve told me my whole life,
You’ve never let me forget it.  

Black girl
ties my hair scarf at night.
White girl does not fear the rain in the morning.

Other white girl tells me she’s
“only ******* black girls after me.”
  I. white girl answer back
“umm that makes me uncomfortable.”

Grey girl has the Beatles tattooed on her left arm,
Stevie wonder
in progress
on her right.

Black girl was not adopted
from white Momma,
grew from her womb,
still carried out misunderstanding.

Black girl wonders why white girl stays silent so often.
Black girl is screaming at herself in the mirror
too scared to scream for Jason Washington
even
too scared to scream for Trayvon
too scared to scream for anything.

We forgot “why are you always stopping me”
but remember “I can’t breathe”.
Only black boys last words are worth remembering.
Black girl
hides behind
white girl’s voice in retail and traffic stops
and phone calls.

Grey girl,
Waiting for the phone call.
The
Dad’s in jail brother is dead phone call
The
How dare you let them take credit for you phone call.

When I moved away I was a success story.
I was black magic
Detroit dame not dangerous
city girl
in the good way.
With the good hair.
With
the way in which black girl
works three times as hard
but I,
white girl,
still presents her work.
Petal pie Jun 2014
And so it begins, this tale of woe,
As a howling wind began to blow.
She brushed her hair one last time,
And set about her perfect crime.

Anticipating the sound of key in lock.
She glanced herself whilst taking stock.
She could not help but stop and admire,
Her provocative sensual ****** attire.

Black matching lace expensive Lingerie,
Purchased especially from town that day.
She carefully rolled her stockings on.
Any sense of guilt had all but gone.

Placing her feet in her killer red heels.
Reminiscing how he liked how they feel.
Consoling herself as the widow Ms Carter,
As she hid the capsule in her French garter

In the kitchen now the lights are dim,
And the candles flicker, flicker for him.
She hears the sound of his key in the door,
As she prepares the meal, a meal to die for.
many thanks to Stevie G for coming up with the concept. It was fun to write together!
A L Davies Sep 2012
yr whisky-flavoured voice of
what seems 20 years your senior makes
infinitely better th'
first coffee , smoke after long hot shower;
it being slow, rainy thursday morning, solo
in Granada (clicking of
stilettos on wet pavement coming thru
thrown-wide windows.)

all the hounds
of old Spain
can't find me ...
haven't thrown anything up here in time so here's an old bit from spain. it will eventually be re-worked and added to something larger.
Donall Dempsey Aug 2020
"SOLO TE...SOLO ME...SOLO  NOI"
( for Heather )

"Ahhhh what happened to the world we knew..."

All the songs I sing
are celebrating

their 50th
Anniversary.

Man that can't be so
seems like only a moment

ago
a lifetime now away.

And that would make me
older than them.

And ******* I
guess I am.

And here's Stevie singing
just a month or more

after the moon landings
and hey

that's 50 years
one giant leap for...

And yeah I look like
the old man I am.

Don't know where
the boy I was went.

Time has gone
AWOL.

Left me here between
nowhere and some where

"...we could feel the wheel
of life turn our way

yester-me yester-you yesterday
yester-me yester-you yesterday

Sing with me

solo te...solo me..solo noi

One more time, yeah

solo te...solo me..solo noi"


**

50th Anniversary of the moon landing and when in Naples heard Stevie singing it in Italian on a passing car radio. Loved the song from the moment it came out(about 2 months after the historic one giant leap)and hearing it now again stuck in the middle of a Naples torrential downpour.
Then in Leicester Square on a surprisingly sunny day( the next day it would pour with rain)we encountered a little busking band in German get-up and a Sousaphone player delighting us with Stevie's Sir Duke and yes Yester-Me, Yester-You,
Yesterday. Sometimes the past wraps you up in its warmth and puts an imaginary arm around your shoulder.
All the way from the boy Wonder himself from his MY CHERIE AMOUR album. "Yester-Me, Yester-You, Yesterday" was written by Ron Miller and Bryan Wells. At that time, it was Stevie's biggest UK hit.
Stevie was going through some vocal problems and was required to wait before recording a song. Due to this, instead of making new ones, they decided to release songs that he had recorded years earlier, and this song was one of them (it was recorded two years earlier).
KA Dec 2014
I took my love and I took it down
Climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
Till the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
And can I sail through the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Oh oh I don't know, oh I don't know

Well, I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older I'm getting older too
Yes I'm getting older too, so

I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I, I've built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older
I'm getting older too oh yes
I'm getting older too

So, take this love, take it down
Oh if you climb a mountain and you turn around
If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills
Well the landslide will bring you down, down
And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills

Well maybe the landslide will bring you down
Well well, the landslide will bring you down

- STEVIE NICKS
sheloveswords Sep 2013
There's an elephant in this room, there's no denying that
No allegations, no assumptions
Just here to state the facts
I see all your dirt
And the **** you try to hide
But what I don't see is your respect
Did it die along with your pride?
And the love you say you posses
Or did it get erase along with all the traces of your text?
Yeah, you thought I didn't see all the lies that you succeeded in
And I played it blindly like I reside in Stevie's skin
And what really irritates my soul, is I could've played that role
The difference is I was investing in commitment
While you was the one auditioning
Now aint that bout a *****
Either resistance was too hard
Or even with a straight flush in your hand you were incompetent in playing your cards
February 22
Where were you that night?
I laid peacefully in my bed, eyes closed tightly, thanking God for sending me a wonderful man
Instead of being April's, I was playing your fool
Swimming foolishly and open in your deceitful pool
Drowning
in 12 feet
But I still wouldn't get out if I could
The irony.
Man, I swear your ******* be so good
I respect everyone's privacy
like there's a No Disturb sign on the door
But your cell phone has been ringing vigorously and that
I wont ignore
I gave you your space
You could've freely ran away if you wanted to explore
You give a person enough rope they'll hang themselves
And right now your toes are dangling 57' from the floor
I'd slave to bake your cake.
Let you eat it wholly.
And you still want more!
Selfish
I bet you didn't even think of me as she laid in your bed naked
or if when you slipped on that contraceptive
Emphasis on the IF just in case I stand corrected
The betrayal
The wonders living in my mind roams in a frenzy
In a million years I never suspected you
Faithful is what you pretended to be
And when I bring it unto your attention
You're worse than an evidently guilty man crying innocent
Obviously, you love to play with fire but when I deliver it you can't sustain
That's like constantly running to get an umbrella when you "claim" you love the rain
You can't handle the truth
BE A MAN
every moment its time to defy it you coil
Just face the aftermath with your ten toes planted on the soil
Because every word you deliver, every punch you throw
Will travel through this universe and manifest to your soul
You didn't like that huh?
Your emotions sings that you're ******
Storming out the door like a madman
But where's he going at a time like this?
To get some fresh air?
To **** another *****?
Men offer me pleasures that I happily resist
But now that the truth comes out he can't handle the ****
He wanna throw his hands up and be a little boy
Hell, I might as well go to K-Mart and buy his *** a toy
Or run to Priscilla's and get me one as well
**** being deceived, I'd rather indulge my own pleasure and be by myself
But the way he makes my legs shake
My heart flutter
My soul yearns for more
Makes me reconsider to stay
Did he do it ruthlessly?
Was it a mistake?
I'm all out of thoughts, I don't know *** to think
All this **** is unbearable
I'm going out for a drink...



                          Copy Right 2013
                                ©Patty Ann
SelinaSharday Jul 2018
It's On Baby
"By the Poet Stevie G"

Now the air is clear

No smog left in my atmosphere

I can get down to my writing

Omit the arguing and fighting

I really miss what I enjoy to do most

That's to write poetry and song

Not to brag or boast

But I'm in my comfort zone with pen in hand

And creativity blooms from my pores and glands

I love to write because passion drives me in that direction

Did you notice I said love

This is not a temporary affection

I'm going to put things into perspective

And prioritize my objectives

To write the words that readers want to read

And at the same time fulfill stevie g's needs

So bare with me while I write away

This is for life it will not end today

As long as I have motion in my hands

I will stimulate the many minds of man

Of the things I have encountered in time

Love, happiness, sadness, joy, hurt and pain

Of all these things stored in my mind

Love reigns above all things

But I'll leave that for the love poems that are to follow

For they are much easier to swallow

Does this poem have a direction

Well, you tell me

I would love to hear your perception

I welcome all feedback so bring the noise

No matter good or bad I will remain poise

I laid off writing for a while to rearrange my situation

But I'm back now so eighty six the vacation

I'm bout to get jiggy wit it

So excuse me if I get a lil ignant

I'm a huge lover of love poetry

But I'm bout to write some **** ya'll don't know of me

So expect some new **** to drop

And when they drop their gonna be blazing hot

So keep your eyes and ears open for the new coming of me

As the saga continues written by Stevie G
By My friend n Poet Mr. Stevie G..
Paula M DiMattio Apr 2016
Missing you...
We met unexpected
We entwined a kindred flame
Not meant for this life

Anticipation...
The rush that was you
Racing heart burning my mind
The wonder of you

Emotions...
Like a freight train
Rattling my sheer existence
Your beautiful soul

Today...
I remember love
You can't get enough to breathe
I breathe cause of you

Time...
There you are always
On this day you went away
Leaving me behind

RIP Stevie 12~7~2002
PMD 12~7~2016
Brian Carson Oct 2013
I watched as you drove
paying perfect attention to the road
tapping your fingers to the song on the radio
and this is when I should've known
that the road less traveled
always bring you back home
feeling as if you were never really gone

I watched as you cried
during a movie when someone died
and you said one of the characters still alive
reminded you of me
and I too, began to cry

I can still see you in perfect form
as sweet and innocent as you'll ever be
I imagine that when you were born
you didn't cry, you came into this world smiling

and that's how I'll remember you
an intelligent, kind hearted, lovable being
we're on the journey of life
I was passing through you
as you were passing through me
Mark Oct 2019
Some blues make you wander
And some blues make you stall
And the some that play for you
Don't do anything at all
Go see Stevie
Whenever it’s Texas Blues y’all

And if anything falls apart
And you feel like lying down
Tell 'em an ole southern claw-picker
Just made the call
Tell Stevie
When you hit the wall

When the gals on the dance boards
Step up and tell you what to do
And you've just had a kind of realisation
And your feet are shuffling slow
Go see Stevie
I think he’ll know

When body and coordination
Half fallen floppy head
And the afro waiter is singing in fear
And the queer nun is off to serve some head
Remember what the congregation said
Feel your heart
Feel your heart.
Hal Loyd Denton Nov 2011
One life by flames a Hero made

This just became a lot harder by its very nature I must cloak one identity shine all the light I can on the
Other harder because I was just reminded people find my writing hard to understand brothers at church
Out home can you be more simple use smaller words I could be stupid I’m a high school dropout I don’t
Know any big words well I did use imbecile in the seventh grade that was cool and got a reaction this
Started to be a tribute to a person who was rare although you can surely see glimpses of your dad
Brother or other male members of your family as I said to write you must follow truth strictly no
Deviation but before I could pay and honor the visible one another comes into view from the past with
This twist then he was the dark kight now he is a knight in shining armor the dark knight have him on
The Cross bar of a bicycle both of you have swimming trunks on you pass some tuffs with extra powerful
BB guns while your body shields him he lets off a litany of sailor inspired words directed at them they
Don’t return insults they open fire I have welts and his mother picks three B Bees out of my back did he
Feel any pain he was too busy laughing that was just one time not enough room here to give you the run
Down let’s just say as the only identifier he was a short racer came in first braver than the others but I
saw him in a class picture there is the strange part it touched my heart and then speaking to him on the
Phone my feelings were correct he is a great wonderful person then the stranger yet he so embodies by
Appearance and voice of the one I choose to honor here Stevie Rucker was about eleven that summer I
Met him his mother went to my wife’s church he was bright kind and melted people with his soft and
loving nature quite a contrast to his father a six foot four hard nose FFA inspector we were out at a
Restaurant in the city a foursome in the next room with a booth were using foul language I don’t know
The dim lighting could have been a factor but when this giant shadow fell on them and asks them to stop I
Don’t think they even talked loud after that. But this sweet little boy harbored a dream one day he was
Going to be a fire fighter then as dreams go it was shattered bad eye sight disqualified it was a dream
Worth fighting for so he took action a risky costly eye operation was the answer victory he moved to
Patoka California by now a wife and two toddlers a boy and a girl three boy five they lived in the foot
Hills of the Sierra Nevada mountain range ever where you were in great growth forest of course the
Red Woods get all the glory but take a stroll red clay earth and some of the most gorgeous nature you
Will ever find although the Great Smoky Mountains will give it a run for the money in a later story I will
Tell about them and the gnome mobile and the huge boar black bear that I thought I was going to have
To run to the car pull out my thirty thirty Winchester and start working the lever action to save seventy
Five tourists I put in Jeopardy by getting him out of a deep gully. Well life was good for Steve and his
Family he was living his dream our paths would intersect we stopped at Paso to break the trip in half to
Southern C and Disney land were heard about the fire in Dego it was bad enough that the whole LA
Basin was fogged in for two days the Santa Anna winds finally pushed it out to sea and up the coast I hit
It on the other side of San Louis Obisable in a gorge it was banked in and because of youthful lucky strikes and
Later sleep apnea I couldn’t breathe in the car until I hit the air conditioner well by the time we got
Home to check in at the hotel it was clear home is what Anaheim means in German then there was that
USA Today News paper again I looked and a face was staring at me older and thicker heavey set but I knew the face and then at
The bottom of the picture emotional train wreck a child so giving now as a man had given his life for
Strangers five to six hundred miles south from his home he died trying to save their homes he joined
Many others but these were fresh in my mind the folks who died in the fire storm in Oakland from the
Conflagration that took lives and homes and four lane highways on both sides couldn’t slow it down and
You have as much chance as out running a bullet as you do a fire as twenty five Idaho smoke jumpers
Found out they were racing out of a gorge scrambling to get over the top this natural configuration had
Become a chimney of living flame thirteen died instantly those others rolled over and away on flat
Ground at the top was spared. What could I do I wrapped myself in the only protection I could find he
Died a hero that kept the pain at bay how many times I invoked that statement it worked so well until at
The community center in Patoka where they honored Steve’s sacrifice it was televised Governor Arnold
Schwarzenegger and other state dignitaries his fire house buddies and other fireman from everywhere
Was there and then they panned down to his mother and father his father wasn’t so large anymore and
It was the last time I could use my shield as I looked and watched Pat weeping Uncontrollably over her
Lost son I thought you would like to know of this wonderful person I will close with a thank you in the
Language of the Lakota Sioux as his service had part of it in the native language of his tribe Pilamaya means thank you
Steve you are an inspiration we bow to greatness beyond our understanding
nic Sep 2013
I read somewhere,
that as adults,
we try growing into
the traits that would've
rescued our parents.
And when my father moved out
I started moving.
The day my his signature
danced across a set
of divorce papers,
my body became boat.
These ankles retracted anchor.
I have been sailor ever since.

2. Mental illness runs
in my mother's family
so leaving was more like
a race for sanity.
There are days when
I wonder if schizophrenia
is what happened
when Liz stopped writing.
When a poet stops being a poet
I guess all of that empty
silence leaves room for
the walls to start speaking.
There are days when I wander
just to see if my feet
are as fast as they
used to be.
I used to leave what I love.

3. I love a lot
so I jog often.
Not for hobby,
but for healing.

4. Survival is a scary thing,
especially when it means
running from what's
already been sewn into
your family genes.

5. If your body ever
feels foreign,
remember home is
where the heart is
so it is no worthless carcass.
Call it Cathedral.
You. Holy congregation
of bones filled to the brim
with sin but blessed
from birth.
Your skin is nothing short
of sacred. Sanctuary.
Your muscles only grow
from being torn and rebuilt
so it makes sense
for your walls
to crumble sometimes.
Destruction is a form
of creation.
And of course,
you will want to dance
amongst that rubble.
Movement is a sign of life.
Let them see
you're still alive.

6. This life is magic
and you come from
a long line of magicians.
We people of Black suits
and bow ties threaded
from braided chains.
We, wands for wrists,
perfect for reaching
for potions and people
and dreams.
We, top hats for teeth,
perfect for abracadabra speaking
things into existence.
We, artists.
We, storytellers.
We, preachers and poets.
We who spit spells
disguised as poems.
Poems that work like
prayers born between pews.
We, walking sanctuaries
with pews for knees.
We who birth life. Love,
you are nothing short
of magic.

7. The day the spine
of my father's signature
tangoed along the rubble
of a broken marriage,
my mother's hips
kissed a beat like
Stevie Wonder
was just invented.
And my God,
is it lovely.
How she wears her lonely
in the sway of her shoulders.
See you come from
a long line of magicians
who don't need to be rescued.
You are not our final flare.
You are not our savior.
Love, you are my plagiarized draft
of a poem called God.
madeline may Jul 2013
you sat on the piano bench
and i sat on the floor
we talked about our fathers
we shared our lonely childhoods
broken bones, broken hearts
i decided i could listen to your voice for hours
you told me you wanted to be a pianist
and i offered to teach you guitar
i played stevie nicks for you
and you said you didn't sing
but your voice is beautiful
and i wish you'd sing for me
you told me about the songs you like
and i went home and made a playlist
it's four months later and i have every song memorized
in alphabetical order

you told me you didn't believe in love
but i know real love and i know forced "love"
and i know i've loved you since that day in september
when you told me i had beautiful handwriting
and i'll never forget how you looked at me
instead of the paper
when the words drifted through the stuffy third-floor air
and i didn't even know your name

so for now i listen to your songs on repeat
and look forward to tomorrow
i just wish i'd kissed you
that evening of the recital
on that ****** piano bench
i haven't written a poem for you in months
i want that night back because it's a side of you i haven't seen since you told me you liked her
Sia Jane Oct 2013
Draped fabric across ebony skin
blues so bright, even the sky fades its light
nestled over the linen
she glances up
a camera smiling
as she giggles with
embarrassment as she fell
the fall is captured as a moment in
time that will never be
lost.

Chilled wine glass in her left hand
cindarella burning against red painted nails
in the other, looking over the balcony she sits
ponders her day as the night sky
fades to red then a deep pitch black
stars like diamonds in the sky above
crickets among the silence
the only noise she hears
distracted.

Her phone lights up with messages from
the day that, she wasn't able to read
as she skims through, a shout is heard
from inside the hotel room
she drops down the phone, places the glass
to the table, and the lighted cigarette to the tray
more time is allowed some space outside
she finishes her smoke, drinks up her wine
shuts down her
phone.

She smiles to herself red lipstick caresses the glass
like a lovers lips touched
not tainted
bottle in cooler, fills the glass to the rim
her heart is warm, soul content
she knows she is loved
unrequited unknown
for now she has a mind
so occupied it's impossible to
know.

----

"EBONY AND IVORY,
LIVE TOGETHER IN PERFECT HARMONY,
SIDE BY SIDE ON MY PIANO KEYBOARD,
OH, LORD, WHY DON'T WE?"


Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder

© Sia Jane
Aaron LaLux Sep 2019
Screen Crack [16]

Jesus!

What the fck,
wait, Jesus,  has nothing to do with this,

your hands glued to the latest PDA device,
hands glued along with your eyes,
seems you cling to your PDA  for dear life,
like it’s as important as a TAH, what’s a TAH look it up,

it’s a Total Artificial Heart,
you are the “art” in artificial,
since when did Personal Displays of Affection PDAs,
get replaced with Personal Digital Assistants,

no way phones could be the new PDAs I can’t accept that,
oh well I guess it’s the perfect sign of the times,
people used to show affection & kiss in public,
now they don’t even notice & the only kisses given are emojis,

no romance they don’t even hold hands show love or show up,

would rather ******* in silence than deal with this,
& maybe that makes me part of the problem,
see I could go out & try to socialize but I stay inside instead,
& don’t even mind ‘cause most people aren’t worth the stress,
plus it’s been so long since I’ve been in a relationship,
if I met someone I wouldn’t even know what to say anyways,
we replaced Empathy with Apathy eye contact with iPhones,
now we’re all bored Cyborgs & alienated Androids,

we keep avoiding each other instead of enjoying each other,  we keep assuming we are annoying each other,
which prevents us from successfully joining each other,
so we effectively self isolate ourselves from one another,

one step closer to an Anti-Social New World Order New Age,
every time we become afraid & walk away instead of engage,

would rather scatter than talk to someone,
in a way that could be construed as rude,
so we just walk-on & ignore every single someone,
even though one of those someones is you,

in the Narcissistic Network of this Sociopathic Society,
where the only certainty is that this cycle of denial is ******,
what the fck, totally stuck, mind fckt & ******,
into that lil cancer causing PDA your hot little hands hold,

Steve Jobs got cancer,
you think that’s a random freakin’ coincidence,
people that work with electronic devices their whole lives,
get sick & this is not just a few examples of isolated incidents,

it’s not a rumor that consumers get tumors from electronics,

even Stevie Wonder could see how Stevie Jobs got sick,
died in his mid 50’s alone & in bed thin as a stick,

all those billions couldn’t save him,
so what makes you think you’ll survive,
why should I care how you live if you don’t care how you die,
think you’re saving time on that portable electronic device,
but you’re living a lie wasting your life not saving your time,
because no one ever regrets spending less on screen time,
but people often regret not spending more time,
in nature attention undivided with loved ones by their side,
before they die, going to do you a favor, save you the trouble,
of spending your whole life chasing things on a digital screen,
I’m going to quote Steve Jobs’s last words here,
so you can start making changes now before it’s too late.

“I have come to the pinnacle of success in business.
In the eyes of others, my life has been the symbol of success.
However, apart from work, I have little joy. Finally, my wealth is simply a fact to which I am accustomed.
At this time, lying on the hospital bed & remembering all my life, I realize all the accolades & riches of which I was once so proud, have become insignificant with my imminent death.
In the dark, when I look at the green lights, of the equipment for artificial respiration, feel the buzz of their mechanical sounds, I can feel the breath of my approaching death looming over me.
Only now do I understand that once you accumulate enough money for the rest of your life, you have to pursue objectives that are not related to wealth.
It should be something more important:
For example, stories of love, art, dreams of my childhood.
No, stop pursuing wealth, it can only make a person into a twisted being, just like me.”…

See, now you’ve heard it directly from a genius,
so there you go don’t say I didn’t tell you so,
still you hear the final words of a brilliant billionaire,
& instead if take his advice you say “Who cares?”,

& that is actually a serious question, who cares?

Probably not me or you so why would we heed a warning,
no matter how wise the words were that were wrote,
we’re too busy trying to find fake treasures on Pokemon Go,
or read the latest news or scroll the latest posts,

seems all those Apples & Androids, have made us apathetic,
bit the forbidden fruit, in The Garden of Electronic Eden,
**** streaming has replaced actual ***, it takes less effort,
exchanged intimacy for IoT, replaced *** with EMFs,

no ******* just internet no farmer’s markets on weekdays,
just products on eBay & freebased sympathy that’s synthetic,
so we don’t feel the vibration of our brothers & sisters,
we just feel the vibration of our phones in our pocket,
we don’t notice the signs of our civilization in decline,
we just notice our phone’s notifications when they go off,

see the more connected we become to the virtual world,
the less connected we become to the actual world,

& I’m having a melt down,
witnessing everyone on their cell phones,
& I want to find a reason to believe in a real person to love,
but I feel like hope is gone & we’re all just lost without a home,
& I’m just as guilty as the rest of us,
‘cause I’m often also lost in the zone on my phone like a drone,

& I’m not religious but maybe we really do need Jesus,
maybe I really do need Jesus,
what the fck, wait,
Jesus,  has nothing to do with this,

a whole new generation of users has been created,
through the use of new additions of cell phones & laptops,
& some of the users are as young as 8 years old,
computers are the new & improved evolution of crack rock,
but family’s are so used to their kids using that they just shrug,
even though their kids are so addicted that they can’t stop,

some even enable kid’s addiction by buying them new editions,

cracked screens from dropping your phone,
gives you a minor heart attack,
oh how attractive cancer seems when it’s attractively wrapped,
in the form of an impersonal personalized phone case artifact,

Silver, Gold or Grey, SnapChat is the new black.

What the fck, hands glued to the latest PDA device,
hands glued along with your eyes,
seems you cling to your PDA  for dear life,
like it’s as important as a TAH, what’s a TAH, look it up,

look up look up,
you are alive in a body on these beautiful lands,
mathematically a 1 in 400 trillion chance of being born,
you’re literally the most amazing miracle you could ever have!

There’s a whole world out there,
please find someone to get to know & love,
because there’s probably someone right next to you right now,
that’s willing to give you their all & it’s obvious,

all you have to do to see is set down your phone & look up!
If you’d only just look up!

But, you’re too busy playing Pokemon Go to notice love,

I know, we’re part of a 1st World society,
& we all play our part by being passively compliant,
in order to be an accessory to our country’s atrocities,
so we get dressed up with the latest techno accessories,

I know,
you don’t want to think about it too much,
because then you might feel guilty, so you stay out of touch,
keeping your head down like you’re mourning a lost love,
there’s an actual psychological condition for this,
Cognitive Dissonance is what it’s called,

so you stay on your phone, not wanting to get involved,
because it’s easier to simply not feel,
won’t even make eye contact just want to be left alone,
because you’re conditioned to fear anything that’s real,

insecure & scared of the unknown you cling to your phone,

even though,
it’s the things we’re most comfortable with that usually **** us,
cars cigarettes alcohol cell phones,
I’m telling you addiction to technology is a serious illness,

as we begin to decay into a mediated medicated mental illness.

Do you even remember,
what you did on your phone yesterday,
do you even remember,
what you did with your emotions yesterday,
do you even remember,
when the last time was you felt real emotions,
do you even remember,
the last time you did anything to help the world?

What is there left to believe in when nothing feels right?

Feels like,
we are losing touch with everything that makes us human,
emotions experienced in artistic expressions are leaving,
we have no attention span & cyborg robots do most thinking,

as we steadily slip into an artificial abyss remember this,

I Love You,

& it scares you when I tell you,
like all real emotions scare you,
& then I tell you I want to take that phone you hold,
& throw it into the ocean,
& you finally look up from your phone after all this time,
stare me in the eyes glare & say, “How dare you!”,
like you’re defending your phone,
as if it’s a part of your very existence you were born with,
like you’d hate a fellow animated human,
for destroying an inanimate object, that’s the Devil’s trick,
because when we’ve lost all emotions only hatred lingers,
desperate I’ll take hatred over nothing if that’s all that’s left,

& I’m the biggest hypocrite of all,
because I say all this about technology,
but here I am writing these words on this laptop,
& offering advice but not offering apologies,

maybe I’ll really realize someday,
when someone shakes me & wakes me from my digital daze,
either that or when I’m all alone about to go home in the sky,
on that death bed quoting the last words of Steve Jobs,

“Stop pursuing wealth, it can only make a person into a twisted being, just like me…”,

Wow.

Can you hear me now?

No you probably still don’t hear me,
because you’re likely on your phone reading this right now,

your hands glued to the latest PDA device,
hands glued along with your eyes,
seems you cling to your PDA  for dear life,
like it’s as important as a TAH, what’s a TAH look it up…

∆ LaLux ∆

poem #16 from THHT3: The Hollywood Hills Trilogy 3
available worldwide here: www.amazon.com/dp/B07XJRBSKD
young lovers enthralled
in a passion that can
melt the deepest
Alpine snow cap

announce an intention
to join as one
till death do you part

the elders smile
at the audacity of
your grandiloquent
proclamation

youthful optimism
expressing pollyannish
sentiments born
of wistful hope

yet to learn the rules
of the vows of matrimony
and the endless sweet labor
required  to keep it alive and well

thus i pass on  this sage advice

when the baby cries at night
when the car won't start
when the rent bill is due
and you find yourself
a bit short

i wish you love...

when the cupboard is bare
and the desire to satiate
swelling hunger pangs
is overwhelming

i wish you love…

when you find yourself travelling
through roads that are
unfamiliar and foreboding

when you are hopelessly lost
in the darkest reaches
of the Black Forest

i wish you love…

as you grow as individuals
straining your relationship

when in laws become outlaws
and the pulls and pushes
of family and friends becomes
unfamiliar and misunderstood

i wish you love…

when resentments and insecurities
conspire to undermine trust

when greener pastures
pose a mirage of better things

i wish you love…

when oversight and neglect
leave you empty

when the luster of the
edelweiss bloom fades

when exasperation melts
the Alps greatest glacier
flooding everything you have

when the untended furnace
doesn't fire and the last
log is consumed

be patient
be diligent
be expectant
be kind

hold on to it
believe in it
practice it
trust it

may it bind you
in a perfect circle

and all your fondest
hopes and wishes
will be yours

i wish you love…

Stevie Wonder
Signed Sealed Delivered

Salutation for
Engagement Party
Maxine Lintel and
Glendon McCallum
Munich
11/29/13
jbm
Trevor Gates Dec 2013
[Fade in, Opera hall; Orchestra is tuning. There is a murmur of people whispering.]

Once upon a time
There was the House of God
And the stage of life

Its key players were man and woman
Supported by Sin and Death

The masterstroke of creation was not of the flesh

But of the souls

[Audience laughs]

I hold in my hand
The diary of a madman

Lined with notes and scribbles
Rotten thoughts to nibble

Food for thought
Or all for naught

Such eloquence and strife
From a torturous life
For these we must share
Alas, who would care?

Would you?

Let’s find out

For in this show tonight, in the heaps of winter fables
And changing seasons
The spectacles and visions shall not be enough


On a magic carpet set for Baghdad
In the Mirror sea of Venus
The performers are all here
For your entertainment

The illustrious Obsidian Theater beckons you all
The Masquerade of the Dream Catcher Ball


With masks, we put on our true faces
Our bare faces are mere disguises
That we wear in public places
But here we’re full of surprises

Mrs. Jujubee isn’t a housewife here
But a sultry dancer, moving to the tune of
Cat house romances

Mr. Wukanlyck isn’t an account anymore
But an eccentric ******* who plays at
Both ends of the field

If you know what I mean.

All these people are able to be their true selves in the light of the stage
How come they cannot be this way in life?
Why can’t they laugh with the bohemians?
Why must it all be a secret life?
Why can they not tell their spouses?
Their parents?
Their bosses?

Why can’t they be what they want to be?

Because…

Their spouses mock the idea of such silly notions and aspirations.
Their parents disregarded their dreams in the hopes they will one day:

“Wake up, get their life in order, so they can get a real job, earn a living, buy a house, get married and contribute to society like a normal person; have a decent life.”

If you can call that a decent life.

Why become another cog in the gears of the economic machine that fuels the fire of excess industry?

Why owe more money to lawyers, bankers and debt collectors in the hopes of owning a piece of property that is just like everyone else’s?

Why push out more unwanted kids into the world where there are already millions without homes, food or even families?

Those “free nations” are ok with owning guns than knowing what’s really happening in the world.  

If another opposing religion or country threatens your comfortable lifestyle then you’re ok with having your government go to war.  

You are slaves to your TVs

Your smart devices

Your phones

Your social networking

Your computers

Your shopping rituals

Your misunderstood purpose

Your narcissism

Your arrogance

Your defensive self-righteousness

Your thin empathy
An obtuse apathy

Indecisive, nail-biting listeners of classroom objectivity
Ridiculing social solicitors of mall shop dogma
The young millennial generations stamped with no discerning identity
Than the loss of critical thinkers which are replaced with
Cultural zombies and robotic masturbators dripping over
Dim screens of cyber people in the millions, filling minds with
Misconceptions, misguided eroticism, racial diabolism that will be
Passed on to friends, family and teachers who will disregard sources and substance
But use the same destructive and dividing strands of unrest
That will define their day to day lives
From the words
The minds
Of frustrated, opinionated
Suburb bloggers
Middle class pioneers that one day
will rule the country
Preaching of the day that all are troubles will be
“Resolved”
And all our past misdeeds and sins shall be
“Absolved”
The crusted, rustic chains of our forefathers’ bane shall be
“Dissolved”

And then maybe we’ll be able to embrace each other
Like in the storybook pages of our dreams
Where men can love men
And women can love women
And the faces, the masks
Will not be needed anymore
Because what we present to the world in the face of that
Higher being
Or simple sun
Will be what we truly are
We will have one life and one face and it will be all we need
Not like before, where our closets have that hidden space
Where we hide our real faces
With that suit of dusty skin
That everyone once in a while we have to sneak away and wear

Little Colette De Salle
Petite college student with features like
Audrey Hepburn
Singing in the underground garage
With Stevie and his troupe
Her songs haunting, elegant and pure
About people she once knew
Her parents
Beaten to death on the streets
By simply reporting the truth to the world
Which their bosses and media supervisors
Will determine what the “truth” is
And what is newsworthy at 7pm

She is Ms. Colette de Saille
And will be dead before she graduates
Because someone didn’t like what she said that one night
Calling out the Pigs and suits making sure no one paid
For her losses


This is Ken Sosnowski
But tonight on this stage he is Aveda Cicada
And she is who she is from birth

Like you all that sits before me

With shadowy smiles
And grins holding flowers, doves
Secrets

And

[Applause]
The Obsidian Theater, entry 16
tangshunzi Jul 2014
abiti da sposa corti Abbiamo sicuramente avuto la nostra parte di sorprendenti dettagli di nozze grazia le pagine di LSP .ma abbastanza positiva questa è la prima volta che abbiamo incontrato un cervo muschio.E 'uno dei molti dettagli moderni realizzati da The Horse Scrittura insieme con la pianificazione da parte in ogni caso e fiori + avorio verdi



di Lily e Società che dimostra rustico Wyoming gioca bene con un piccolo pizzico di mod .Date un'occhiata a ogni ultima immagine catturata dalla splendida Carrie Patterson Fotografia proprio qui.nella piena galleria .
Condividi questa splendida galleria ColorsSeasonsSummerSettingsTentedStylesModern

Qual è stata la tua visioneè ematrimonio erfectè?

Zee e ** incontrato a Jackson Hole e sempre discusso incredibile come un matrimonio a Jackson sarebbe.Per mostrare la bellezza di Jackson Hole ai nostri tanti amici e viaggiando da Georgia .Texas famiglia .e molti punti in mezzo era sicuro di essere incredibile .Volevo essere certo di mantenere le cose eleganti .ma abbastanza semplice da non distrarre dalla bella vista .

Quali sono tre dettagli unici che infuse nel vostro arredamento ?

mia madre e ** fatto tutta la pianificazione di noi stessi .che è qualcosa che entrambi amiamo fare !Cerco di emulare mia madre quando si tratta di pianificazione del partito e il layout .Ha il sapore più meraviglioso e l'occhio per la decorazione .e io sono così molto grato per tutto il suo aiuto durante la pianificazione .

Alcuni dettagli unici che infuse nostri cor désono :

I due Avorio Elk e Moose .la nostra torta nuziale Faux Bois con i miei genitori ' figurina Staffordshire in alto .gli alberi Aspen e le tovagliette Moss e fioriere .Mi è piaciuto molto anche il nostroè entler Luogo Carteèed i nostri numeri del tavolo .I nostri numeri della tabella sono stati etichettati in animali diversi ad ogni tavolo che rappresentava tutti i diversi vita selvaggia a Jackson Hole .

Qual è abiti da sposa 2014 stato il momento più memorabile ?

Durante la cena .il nostro fotografo Carrie tirato Zee e via per le fotografie al tramonto .Abbiamo camminato attraverso lo stagno .più vicino alle montagne e il nostro primo minuto solo tutto il giorno .Guardando indietro attraverso lo stagno alla bella tenda piena di persone più speciali nella nostra vita è un momento che non dimenticherò mai .

Che canzone hai fatto il tuo primo ballo a ?

Il nostro primo ballo : Crazy Love di Van Morrison padre / figlia Danza : Isnè èShe Lovely di Stevie Wonder

Cosaèse qualcosaèhai fatto fai da te ?

Mia nonna ha fatto la biancheria per i tavoli da cocktail .I quattro grandi Fioriere e la scaffalatura dietro ogni bar sono stati costruiti da un amico in Texas .Le tonalità appeso sopra la nostra pista da ballo abiti da sposa 2014 sono stati realizzati su misura solo per il nostro matrimonio .Avevamo laè èharlie Joseph 'ècappelli di carta fatti per i server di indossare durante il passaggio su cani e patatine fritte a tarda notte

Fotografia : Carrie Patterson Fotografia | Event Design : . The Horse Writing | Pianificazione : in ogni caso |Floral Design : Giglio E Azienda | Catering : Bistro Catering | Località : Jackson Hole Golf \u0026Tennis ClubCarrie Patterson fotografia è un membro del nostro Little Black Book .Scopri come i membri sono scelti visitando la nostra pagina delle FAQ .Carrie Patterson Fotografia VIEW
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Moderna incontra rustico in Wyoming_abiti da sposa on line
Hal Loyd Denton Nov 2011
Liberties Undying Flame
I’m going to write in the shadow and stream of Abe Lincoln we can’t be our hero but we can strive to be like them. First and foremost honesty they say it is refreshing. Well I was kept from writing all day went thirty miles to go out to eat. Finally at eleven I was too tired to write well actually I didn’t have anything to write. So I took a fifteen minute nap then set in the chair until five forty five first finally coming up with this then writing it in my head now to put it down. It has to do as the title says with streams those that stream into your life from others. When trying to find a story that could be the jumping off place I got out the book pedaling to Hawaii. Sub title a human powered Odyssey. Stevie Smith a Paris bureaucrat decides there has to be more to life so he chucks everything and begins his quest to use only human power to circle the globe by pedaling no sails or motors just human exertion. Richard Branson writes this on the front of the book.”If you believe, as I do that we all have something extraordinary within us, this wonderful book will inspire you to begin your dream and follow it through”
In life’s constant free every flowing tide these mentors come in timeless rhythm they surmount all obstacles carry back with them to the sea the waste the debris you unwisely collected not knowing this collection the enemy has brought to seal your life against God given streams that are the very substance of life changing dreams. They were found in neighborhoods and streets the common paths but these were fixed by divine design he was adding mental and physical attributes that fit perfect into the mosaic he had envisioned when he thought of you. One neighbor scruffy mean hostile your first thoughts what a sad waste but then you saw the beautiful daughters and the upstanding sons. Then your question Willard why have you tried so hard to perpetrate this effective lie your lesson don’t look on the outward but be perceptive take the time in this harden shell you can find beautiful secrets to tell he was just a dark color in the whole it blends to form the richest hues for in you mercy will ensue the lost and forgotten who have long trodden a chilled and lonely path among stone and thorn will once again know the clear air and paths bathed in warm sunshine. There are rarest finds if you’re willing to walk the extra mile your own life you will enrich so many others so carefree have come to find waste and spoil
Then the farmer who held on to the past long had the tractor replaced the team of horses but remember the harmony living flesh man and horses when he spoke talked to them they willing obeyed leaned into the harness how there magnificence gave a thrill to your heart then the silver plow knifed the earth black soil rolled over the side of the plow how did common earth transform into a black wave even more compelling than the grassy sod that moments before ruled with a quiet flare. The leather creaked against the strain I could swear it was singing. In this moment retold jack and that team are again in fields wide made with straightest furrows the golden seed to be laid in this temporal grave tomorrow rich harvest the families table spread labors highest honor paid.
The mothers the fathers along these thoroughfares coursed humans greatest gift they with ordinary means rearmed a nation with bloodlines and lifelines to continue a way bought for from blood spilled on sea and land to keep us free. The truth if you could remove lies deadly snare from people’s minds the religion they practice is the contrivance of slavery to make the few rule the weaker with this blight abolished they could see we are the same as them we only desire good for family and the larger world.
This is the strong hold of any nation Brother G.T. Haywood a black pastor in Indianapolis went to his church locked the door for twenty one days he sought God for black and white people his city and nation the benefactors of his love and devotion at the end of this prayer and fast he emerged and penned this immortal song. I see a stream of crimson it flows from Calvary its waves is washing over me. The city fathers credited this man’s influence for saving the city when Detroit was in ashes he had long gone to his reward but his life and spirit lived on. Mr. President you could learn a lot from this man your aid using the foulest language isn’t funny you have a sacred trust live up to it.
David Nelson Jul 2010
157 Riverside Avenue

I can hear the razz-ma-tazz piano, ah the sound so sweet
lead up to an old thyme rock tune, making me tap my feet
the clubs have come and gone, changing names over and over
but the music has never left, on this south side of Dover

rock and roll star wanna be's, long hair and fancy pants
kickin out the tunes for us, hoping that we'll dance
here's a tune by rocker Lynyrd, or one by Stevie Ray  
even some old R & B, like Sittin on the dock of the Bay

we sat around and drank our beer, raising hell till 2 a.m.
had to go to work next day, and survive that crap mayhem
it did not really matter though, we'd do it again tonite
cause we were young and feisty, and the music made it all seem right

loud guitars and crashing drums, a fiddle and a flute
as long as it was in the right key, we didn't give a hoot
every Thursday thru Saturday night, drink shots and smoke **** too
it just didn't get any better then, 157 Riverside Avenue  

Gomer LePoet...
Sia Jane Apr 2014
Karen Carpenter, bridged sued cap d'hiver,
(which I hear will be very en vogue this summer)
fringe falling, as gracefully as music flowing through her veins,
(a Pucci jumpsuit, a throwback to times, of rock and roll)

Pinned hair, taped face to secure a wig cap,
(a daily communion bonding her soul to her self)
those Miu Mui boots, leather wrapped sewn to her body
(to which is laying amid candle light gypsy retreat)

A left thigh, glance of the subtly disguised tattoos inscribing her body,
(do we mark our body, to impress others or to claim our own bodies)
silk Chloé gown, gypsy princess of Parisian quarters,
(Jakarta may someday be a resting place for an unsettled soul)

Placing pencil to paper, poetry writes me as lyrics write her,
(do the ivory keys of the Grand Piano fuse inspiration)
piercing red nails, grasping left handed she writes writes writes,
(maybe notes of her future travels dreams aspirations)

A 70's heroine, born to the wrong era standing in the past,
(Yoko Ono Led Zep Stevie Nicks, mahatma's of a lost scene)
innocence purity porcelain *******, torn from a womb too soon,
(not at once a smile, reflective nostalgia unwavering past future)

A fallen tear drop, a hopelessness of peace in her eyes,
(one can see both tattoos of present; ARTPOP, of past; peace symbol)
a fallen angel, legacy leaving her mark on a generation of those lost,

Her left wrist shows a peace sign as a commitment to such peace

Will this ever be a possibility on a planet we call earth?

© Sia Jane
See "Porter Magazine" - "Gaga The Lady interview photographed by Inez & Vinoodh.
David Nelson Jan 2015
157 Riverside Avenue

I can hear the razz-ma-tazz piano, ah the sound so sweet
lead up to an old thyme rock tune, making me tap my feet
the clubs have come and gone, changing names over and over
but the music has never left, on this south side of Dover

rock and roll star wanna be's, long hair and fancy pants
kickin out the tunes for us, hoping that we'll dance
here's a tune by rocker Lynyrd, or one by Stevie Ray  
even some old R & B, like Sittin on the dock of the Bay

we sat around and drank our beer, raising hell till 2 a.m.
had to go to work next day, and survive that crap mayhem
it did not really matter though, we'd do it again tonite
cause we were young and feisty, and the music made it all seem right

loud guitars and crashing drums, a fiddle and a flute
as long as it was in the right key, we didn't give a hoot
every Thursday thru Saturday night, drink shots and smoke **** too
it just didn't get any better then, 157 Riverside Avenue  

Gomer LePoet...
The way your eyes shine makes me glad I'm not blind. Actually, I think about it all the time.
Even Stevie wouldn't wonder, I mean lightning looks good but it's the feeling of the thunder, ya know?
Why are we always so reckless? Broken hearts on your checklist.
I'm thinking I want more than that. I'm all turnt, how'd I end up in this cul-de-sac?
Someone flipped the light switch. I'm like thank you Mr. Edison.
I want more than just a side stitch. Shout out to Lilo, Disney mention.
Did I mention? I always pay attention. That's why your boy can always tell when you're not yourself.
I just want the real you. I'm sick of chicks with scripts baby tell the truth.

— The End —