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“She comes ’round…”

She comes ’round
when the night goes down
and the moon is in the sky
sneaks outta her room
and her desperate doom
walking with stars in her eye
she knocks on the door
I don’t care anymore
I don’t need to stop and explain
I got no shirt and jeans
y’know what I means
and we’re together like wet on rain

a cigarette lit
a neck I have bit
and a tongue that slips across mine
I fall insane
at the drop of her name
I’m lost in her endless blue wine
fingers on my skin
like a dream going in
like a fuse shooting sparks from the wall
her breath in my ear
her heart beating near
as through the window the moonlight falls

across the night
through the pale light
our bodies swift and sure
the taste is sweet
as our lips meet
together our lives are pure

and our wanton wings
such slippery things
slide towards the cotton dawn
let the sun awake
for my soul’s sake
and I slide my sunglasses on
can’t you tell
anxiety fell
to the floor of my darkened place
I’ll remember this
and your honey kiss
and the way the moon shone on your face

(from “Part Four: Tragic Glorious”)

Nice rhythm and wordplay.

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“Angie had a face…”

Angie had a face
that would stop a city street
I felt a burning shudder
every time our eyes would meet
and the smile she could give you
could take your breath away
she was the blue of bluest skies
the sun’s most precious ray
Angie and I were friends
and we’d walk on summer grass
but I could never tell her
and I hoped my love would pass
the years moved on and I did not
and Angie found her one
the ring sparkled on her finger
my heart fell like a ton
so I kissed her cheek and said goodbye
and she went down the aisle
I stood outside with the engine running
and neither of us could smile
I sat behind the wheel and knew it was right
and pulled away from the curb
and ever since that Sunday morning
I’ve lived my life in the suburbs
the years rolled on and I stood still
and met her in my dreams
spent my days throwing wishes
into my drying streams
one lonely night the telephone rang
Angie on the other end
she told me that she needed me
this time not just as a friend
I ran to her and didn’t look back
and my life on solid ground
as long as I live I’ll never forget
the day Angie came back to town

(from “Part Four: Tragic Glorious”)

A common theme, especially in popular song. “My Eyes Adored You”, “Lyin’ Eyes”, “Taxi”. Fictional girls should all be named Angie or Rosie or Edie.

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Shotgun Lover

I can pull your soul out of the burnin’ fire
I can bring to life, baby, your every dark desire
I wanna be the one to walk with you with pride
if you’ll just come with me for that long mystery ride
you don’t need to hide, you don’t have to run for cover
’cause when the night is black I’ll be your shotgun lover

you and I can ride ’til there ain’t no more road
we can chase the magic dawn and live stories untold
wake up in a hotel that’s the same as the last
live up to our names, baby, live up to our past
as your mama bows her head and begs the angels above her
you’ll be as safe as can be beside your shotgun lover

once upon a time
we were lost in the night
we got tangled up
in the glory of our dreams
but how time flies
when you’re locked up tight
I wanna know
what life really means

no one knows what the interstate holds
the sun may be hot and the moon might be cold
but we’ll have each other when the road gets rough
and when the weight comes down we’re gonna show ’em we’re tough
so turn out the light, baby, pull up the covers
and sleep beneath the stars with your shotgun lover

the time has come
to find out who we are
to get what we want
and to have it our way
so come on with me
we’ll pack our dreams in my car
let’s run through the night
to find the glorious day

(from “Part Four: Tragic Glorious”)

A Springsteen-type song. I like the different rhymes for ‘lover’.

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“I watched as she sat there…”

I watched as she sat there
her green eyes wanted sleep
I watched her lick her lips
a far and distant treat
her socks hung at her ankles
and I lusted for her neck
her fingers quaint
she nodded her head
and smiled
and blinked
every move I saw
nice neck
nice f@#$**&% neck
her hair cropt
my mind was racing
I was hot
warm
I needed her arms
but they were away
her hair hung
and my heart along
hot
damn, damn hot
and she’ll be gone
and I’ll be home
and that’ll be it
just another page
in a never ending book

(from “Part Four: Tragic Glorious”)

Another ‘so close, yet so far away’ situation. Let’s face it: more ‘got away’ than were ‘got’, yes?

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“I need a summer day…”

I need a summer day
a warm July
I need a place to rest
I need an ocean view
I need rock ‘n’ roll
I need a bottle
and a lick of lime
I need a dollar in my pocket
I need a cigarette at night
and a breeze in the morning
I need to break free
I need the country air
I need the city streets
I need a peace of mind
I need a cleansing within
I need a smoke-filled room
and a deck of cards
I need to find who I am
and what I want
I need to know the secret
I need to know the truth
I need freedom and happiness
contentment and warmth
I need to understand my soul
and I need to travel on

but more
much more than this
I need her

(from “Part Four: Tragic Glorious”)

It’s OK to be a paradox. To like ‘the country air’ and ‘smoke-filled rooms’. In hindsight, I’m disappointed that I’ve said that more than anything else I need someone beside me. Let me suggest that maybe it’s more important to figure out yourself as a ‘person’ as opposed to a ‘significant other’.

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“You know,…”

You know,
the day blows apart
and the fragments rain
down on me

I’m a poet
I’m a preacher
I’m a lover
I’m a listener
I’m a soldier
I’m a prophet
I’m a mad f$#@*&% genius
I’m day
I’m night
I’m the early morning sun
I’m the bright and silver moon
I’m the empty
I’m the full
I’m the silence
I’m the screaming
I’m the wrong
I’m the oh, so right
I’m the love
I’m the lust
I’m the touch and feel
I’m the king
I’m the lord
I’m the jester
I’m the knight
I’m the judge
I’m the jury
I’m loose
I’m tight
I’m strong
I’m weak
I’m outta sight
I’m beside you
I’m blind
I’m all-knowing
I’m tired and yet
I’m ready to rock ‘n’ roll
I’m ready
I’m psyched
I’m amped
I’m done…

and, goddamnit
I’m still the one

(from “Part Four: Tragic Glorious”)

Fun to write and, I think, cool to read. Street poetry.

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A Rainy Night at Jackie’s Place

The rain’s pouring down
on the roof of this bar
I’m starin’ at a drink
and I’m wonderin’ where you are

and Rusty Lee is playin’
a sad blues song
and I’m orderin’ another
and I know it won’t be long

Jackie’s there behind the bar
he pours me another on the cuff
he knows the way I’m feelin’ tonight
’cause he’s seen this face enough

you musta got so tired of livin’ here
you packed your bags and left me home

if gin is a healer
then I guess I’ll be alright
but if the booze is gonna kill me
then it better do it tonight

but nothin’s gonna stop me
from orderin’ a couple more
and I hope my blues are drownin’
when I stagger out the door

Johnny slips in beside me
his eyes are all shot up
he says now he’s packin’ a gun
’cause he’s all run outta luck

you musta got so tired of livin’ here
you packed your bags and left me home

the girl at the end of the bar
is startin’ to look good to me
Jackie slips me a grin
and I say ‘just you wait and see’

I finish another pack
Rusty Lee plays it slow
so I slide down to see her
and I ask her if she’ll go

we dance down on the sawdust
and my head’s ’bout ready to drop
I slip a sign to Rusty
and it tells him not to stop

you musta got so tired of livin’ here
you packed your bags and left me home

her body reminds me
of that night in Hoboken
the walls they were dirty
and the windows were broken

I held you close that night
before you changed your mind
and you know I won’t forget
’cause that was the very last time

she’s a bad substitute
but I think she’ll do alright
and it looks like I’m gonna make it
through another rainy night

but I’m gettin’ so tired of livin’ here
I’ll pack my bags and follow you

(from “Part Four: Tragic Glorious”)

My stab at a Tom Waits song. Sorry, Tom.

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