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Death Music Poems | Death Poems About Music

These Death Music poems are examples of Death poems about Music. These are the best examples of Death Music poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Lyric | |

WE ALL DIE

My piety,my poetry ,my love
All are in vain
my music, my love ,my mind
All are running insane

My rhymes are all crooked
I can't write a perfect song
Looks like my life is worthless
my music, my poetry its all gone

Behold the paradox,
In these old rhymes 
living in a worthless life 
All these times 

The music's almost over
just need to turn out the light
I need just one leap
Need to show on last fight

I need to create something
something that makes you feel
the goal isn't to live forever
Its to create something that will


Details | Lyric | |

Pins and Needles

Another song written in middle school - edited of course. ;)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Verse 1] I'm trapped within these walls Never to leave at all I am the prisoner inside my own home My spirit is broken I do not believe I'm locked in this chamber which I cannot leave [Chorus] The needles that break the skin The anger that runs within I’m giving it all away Just to stay alive The needles that pierce my veins It will never be the same We’re on pins and needles now It’s how we survive [Verse 2] They say he’ll find me soon Got to get out of this room The blood will spill and he’ll take what he wants to I’ll never let him through GET OUT OF MY DREAM He whispers in darkness, “I’m not who I seem…” [Chorus] [Verse 3] The four walls around me They start to close in I know I’m too late now I know I can’t win So just tell me I’m crazy It’s all in my head You’re not the killer And I am not dead [Chorus] [Breakthrough] Don’t tell me it’s impossible To start it all over again Infection sinks through your pale skin You’ll curse the day that I’m dead [Chorus]


Details | Dramatic Verse | |

the day you flew to Heaven


           We knew , it was if a moment stopped in time 
              hearing the news before most of the World did
           He loved to fly his plane from Colorado to Monterey Bay
           He was a avid golfer at Pebble Beach respected 

           He had loves and passions from many places 
           deciding to fly low through the overcast red sunset
            Not only did he love music and inspire all 
            He loved his Plane , he will always remain a beautiful Soul

              The next day it was confirmed ..all saddened 
             It was John Denver's plane that went down
             Today in Pacific Grove stands the Memorial 
             So Kiss me and smile for me we will ~
              always in loving memory 
               OH babe ,  do we hate you go ~    
                            
    

         Inspired by ; contest in Music and Loss of an Artist
                   "Leaving on a Jet Plane "
             


Details | Ode | |

Renaissance Reed

     Lou Reed , Mistral of his time
     so you walked this road on the wild side
     unique in music , never selling out 
     believing in Art instead of commercialize
     
     Lou Reed the musician never compromised ~
     Sweet Jane not enough for our crowd of eccentric rockers 
     still will live forever with the many that left before you
     one can imagine from John Lennon to Johnny Ramone 

     a party in Heaven of the finest rock bestowed 
     no text , no MTV when they pursued a dream 
     New York, hotel Chelsea an age of Renaissance
     ragged jeans and leather jackets ,Art on stage  

     No, your Rock not ever fade away , it will stay sweet Jane forever ~

      For the fine Man with words , ode to Lou Reed .

     

     
     



Details | Rhyme | |

Above the Ocean Path


  " .... can you hear the bells ? ... "
             ~~~   ~~~


I trudge along the ocean path
up the hill to the promenade.
Above the crashing waves I stand,
then memories, my thoughts, invade.

Behind me, white and old, as I,
the abandoned church beckons me.
It says " do you remember when?"
"Think back ... what do you see?"

I remember lilacs blooming
and music from inside,
when this was a church full of life,
when I became a bride.

But now the lilacs fade from sight,
a deserted shell is all I see.
There is no music playing.
Sadness settles over me.

The curtains blow through broken panes.
They billow in the breeze
as if they're trying to escape
out to the beckoning seas.

Once upon a time we were
Alive ! , this church and I.
But we are old and empty now
and ready now to die.


           ~~~   ~~~
"behind the church is a promenade
     they call the Widows Walk"




   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~

    23/09/2011


Details | Rhyme | |

Michael Jackson

When I think about Michael, my eyes start to tear
He never learned to love, the man in the mirror

His gifts Thriller and Bad, made him the king of pop
A true innovator, creating the moon walk

That dirty Diana, never gave him a kiss
He was a smooth criminal, we were the witness

Loved by many millions, he lived behind his gate
Neverland his prison, prescription pills his fate

A life not fully lived,  too soon came to an end
He preferred fantasy, a strange world of pretend

He started to early, wanted to be a child
A part of him missing, his talking voice so mild

Still whenever he sang, he created fashion 
What could ever compare, with that kind of passion?

He continues to dance, an image on our screen
He was one of a kind, the best I've ever seen


Details | Imagism | |

SLEEPING WITH THE DEVIL'S WIFE

   SLEEPING WITH THE DEVIL'S WIFE
Some night you'll wake before morning
Sweatin to the oldies she will sing.
She'll make you think you're in Heaven...
Long enough to tell you ANYTHING...

And you'll believe her.

Some night you'll wake up hearing voices
Sweatin to the oldies of here life.
She'll never say you're in Heaven.
Or tell you you've been sleeping with the Devil's Wife.

She'll never tell you, you've been sleeping with the Devil's wife.

But you will KNOW.
You will know.

That's when you'll need her.
That's when you'll love her the most.
That's when you will die.
Sleeping with the Devil's wife.

That's when you will die.
   
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa ---hear the song and First take Video on Youtube, search for vee bdosa then select SLEEPING WITH THE DEVILS WIFE. One of my personal favorites, more poetry than song.


Details | Lyric | |

Watch Me Die

The petals of a rose, they tremble and they fall
Just like my aching heart, my backs against a wall
so I Scream- but no one seems to hear me 
(and) I Bleed- but no one seems to worry 
(and) I Cry- but no one spares a passing glance
(and) I Die- no one seems to care

My mask, it melts away
as the flames burn through my bones, the pain it never fades
and its worse because i know the angels are not here to save me
everthing but you hates me
and im stuck with all this trapped inside
Im forced to sit and watch me die

Im in an empty room...
all hope disenegrates.
nothing left to do but get drunken, high
im willing to do anything just to get by

so I Scream- but no one seems to hear me 
(and) I Bleed- but no one seems to worry 
(and) I Cry- but no one spares a passing glance
(and) I Die- no one seems to care

My mask, it melts away
as the flames burn through my bones, the pain it never fades
and its worse because i know the angels are not here to save me
everthing but you hates me
and im stuck with all this trapped inside
Im forced to sit and watch me die
Im forced to sit and watch me die


Details | Elegy | |

Moon Walk on Your Grave

Moon Walk on Your Grave

A life begun in stardom,
now, ending up in shame.
Relentless media, cruel world,
who then is there to blame.

A sadness inside,
no tears on your face.
The pain all but over,
mass confusion erase.

In wonder we watch,
can a life be explained?
Can't surface your agony,
under facade you remained.

Let's focus on the talent,
musical joy that you gave.
In peace now I pray,
moon walk on your grave.

© Rene' Brady 2009


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Bell's Blues

Staring, vapor locked, at my Hammond B-3 console organ, which dominates my 
kitchen.  Surely a symbol of my madness.  I can't help, but think, if the keys were 
the days of my life, and the black ones represented the bad days, are there 
enough black keys??  Fighting petulance, self-pity...losing...
     Wondering if I can stand another minute alone.  Atop my organ, music books, 
and the complete works of Edgar Allan Poe, another mad poet.
     Plagued by physical agonies that merely complete a perfect circle of anguish 
and distress.  Even to worrying of misspelling a word again.  Pure lunacy.
     Remembrance of my 1863 death at Missionary Ridge, something I became 
aware of as a young child before I'd ever heard of reincarnation.  Or just an early 
sign of the madness to come??
     I am lost in a befouling miasma of deep despair.  My life's hopes down to 2 
desires;  one last music band, and taking my son to Disneyworld.  Money is 
meaningless to me.
     I am well aware that death is as natural as life.  And I would venture to guess 
that the loss of my father, my young cousin Billy, my dear friend Mark Trotiner, and 
too many others, are "Business As Usual" in this universe.  But not for me.
     Being terminally ill myself is something I have long since come to terms with.  
And what a reunion it will be!!  But I must continue to go on surviving as though I 
cherish this long and barren life.
     My writing, especially my poetry, my poet friends, my music, my musician 
friends, and a few relatives and others; these are the meds that work for me; not 
the 30 or so pills I must deal with everyday.  So thank you all.
And now an addendum, one which brightened my day:
     Mark Trotiner long maintained that he gave Mark Knoffler (Dire Straights) the 
idea for his hit song "Money For Nothing", when Mark Knoffler came into the 
appliance chain store he worked in way back then, where he bought, and drove 
off with several T.V.s, singing the prototype words he'd gotten from Mark Trotiner.  
Over the years, I tested him repeatedly, looking for the tale-tell deviation in the 
story one finds in a false tale.  He never faltered, he never failed.
    Continued.....


Details | Bio | |

THE LYRE WAS HIS DISGUISE

Nero was a cruel, unfair emperor playing 
the lyre as his disguise to conceal his consuming guilt;
and he caused destruction without feeling
an ounce of pity for those he governed with distrust.


Why did he want to destroy a city so mighty and glorious,
and replace it with a Golden Palace and magnificent gardens?
It seems inconceivable, but it was confirmed by many as the Great Fire
which ravaged Rome for six horrible days...who dared to call Nero a liar? 


On the rooftop, with the widest view of Rome burning underneath,
Nero played the lyre as his disguise...singing,"The destruction of Troy" with derision.  
And while looking so innocent and sad, he did nothing to control it;
wasn't his madness an evident sign of that contemplated act brought to completion?  


Finding the scapegoats was too easy for him, to cover up his evil deed...
he blamed the Christians and had them thrown to the beasts of the Colosseum,
but many more were crucified along the Via Appia and was Nero appeased?
No, he still continued to play the lyre as his disguise with increased delirium.


Details | Ballad | |

Martyr for the Unorthodox word

If I had over 10,000 dreams You'd be the only thing my mind could see Judgment couldn't be real Succumbing to the fear of this cold life Find a way to break through The self-destruction of wordly delusions Don't tell me I've lived so long in a lovely illusion Break me down until we find a Nirvanic state Then bring me a savior from transgressions An atoning sacrifice Send down to me a messenger for me to submit to Bring me the truth to break through The delusion Bring me the messenger to explain it all And let me leave behind Sorrow's caressing the earth The caliphate stole my heart Without a will to fight But I have the Means to be free I'll try to go with the word I believe But so many stones to be thrown Stakes to burn, limbs to break Faces to hate, scorns to taste Will I have the will to die Despite all of the tears no one will cry Sorrow's caressing the earth The caliphate stole my heart Broke my will Safetefied my soul Martyr for the Unorthodox word Sorrow's caressing the earth The caliphate stole my heart Without a will to fight But I have the Means to be free I'll try to go with the word I believe But so many stones to be thrown Stakes to burn, limbs to break Faces to hate, scorns to taste Will I have the will to die Despite all of the tears no one will cry Sorrow's caressing the earth The caliphate stole my heart Broke my will Safetefied my soul Martyr for the Unorthodox word


Details | Lyric | |

Tears

A great day ending in tragedy
now you wait until you get the news
I was scattered in different forms
The car door was slammed into my side
The doctor walks in to give you the news
You fall to the floor
Tears falling from your face
Your makeup running down unto your clothes
Making a stain where your heart used to be
I took you back into the darkest place of my soul
Something was different more darker than before
Now you wait until the funeral of your lost love
Your standing in the corner
Your face is covered in darkness
The blood runs from your eyes
How it hurts in the worst way now that im gone
Your realizing how much i meant to you
Something you havent seen before
Your blindness fades away as you start to see
You fall to the floor fainting
No one picks you up
They drop my casket into my little hole
Where i will stay all life long
How your tears fall unto the ground
Getting soaked up by the soil
Drowning me in your tears
Admire the past no more ways to see the future
Now that your starting to love me more
You wait until you see me in a dream
Dying like the past
As your moving on i fade away
I am no longer alive
You left me behind


Details | Lyric | |

In My Eyes

Find a way to me. A way you will find. See the colors, In my eyes. Drain the grey, And the black. Bring the color, In my eyes. See flashing of blue, Flashes of green, Flashes of brown. If you search for me, Search for my eyes, There I will be found. See the rainbow inside. To think I went insane. You weren't mine. That's what would keep me sane. Dreams and flashbacks come into view. Thinking of what could we've been, Thinking of the pictures of you, Thinking of what we had, I knew I was doomed. See flashing of blue, Flashes of green, Flashes of brown. If you search for me, Search for my eyes, There I will be found. Much of darkness is in my eyes. Haven't you noticed I've been down? Showed my all the lies, Do you know in my tears, I drown? See flashing of blue, Flashes of green, Flashes of brown. If you search for me, Search for my eyes, There I will be found. See flashing of blue, Flashes of green, Flashes of brown. If you search for me, Search for my eyes, There I will be found. There I will wait, There I will cry, There I will relate, There I will die. ~ORIGINAL~ <3 Evalina Elena Eshiii E>


Details | Elegy | |

Elegy for Michael Jackson (3)

Refrain:
You shimmering waves on the ocean blue
Dance not again, he cannot dance with you
You weeping forests where the winds wail too
Let your bright tears fall in the pool of dew
The world of pop will never be the same again
The king is dead, and life is a dream so vain.

                  O day most callous like the callous world, how
                   Did you come about? By whose love designed,
                   Whose genius bore him, gave him life? O now
                   Do tell us of his human coming, since maligned
                   It's oft forgotten that he was somebody's child
                   Context in a world where his skin was reviled:
                   And yet some marveled that he parted from it
                   To build a world different from base to summit.

Genius is a gift and not a choice, and he was all
A moment's glimpse of earth's troubled paradise
For Michael was not mere mortal he was our tall
Selves transformed to art, so nuanced to the wise
That understood how his dance moves were silk
Syllables of protest and regret, a symbol cocooned
In loneliness, a man pining for the rare social milk
Of happiness against a material breast, festooned

                    With a race unhappiness. He was more than we
                    Saw with naked eye, Michael was an artist true
                    Context in all our history. And yet his mortality
                    Was not less not vulnerable due to fame, a blue
                    Note then sing for him, remember this day's despair
                    How the fickle fans in fragile praise came again
                    Away from the media's maddening glare to share
                    This moment of dark our universal deluge of pain.

O Indiana, this is your son, O America this here
Is your native child, weep here ye poets, weep
For him, the poet of the broken soul, Let no tear
Leave a eye that's dry for the lullaby of his sleep
Come ye world that felt his charity, beg angels
Hear us and welcome him; Michael, forever we 
Will keep our hearts beating for you, in citadels
Of shining peace when your songs bring memory. 


Details | I do not know? | |

BOATMAN

There is a misty hanging over the lake
A line of pollen    colorless in the smoke    lapping the bank
With things    those outlined    unreachable
    against the far    far shore
Needle outlines    pines    roof of an old tool shed
    ghostly    wondering    within
Eyes    imagined yellow    peering    red    wet
    tongues hanging
This the very sort of day to set one odd-dreaming
There is a quiet    distant music sounding    then
A faint ripple    distant plash awakens vision
I cannot see    but hear the musical dipping of oars

"Hey!    Boatman!" I yell into the gloom
"Hey!    Boatman!    How deep?"    no reply
"Would I wade out?    Is there an undertow?    Would I sink
    only make a pin-point entry    be lost eternally?"
    I laugh    No reply
Still the steady dipping    now growing near    now far
    the steady dipping to a heartbeat      maddening!
         to think he might appear at any moment
    dreaming to the quiet    eerie music    and on
                  and on
"Apparition!    Won't you speak?    I've watched    
    listened for hours it seems
                  then
A breeze    at last    cuts the gloom
My vision starts!
There is no one out there
"Hey!    Boatman!
Where?"


Details | Rhyme | |

The King Of Pop

from his abc's
to that freaky billy jean

came a pop star 
for all to love and see

from the apollo's stage
wondered if you were ready for screaming rage

for you never had a childhood of bliss
only done what was on joseph's list

a studded white glove 
and white socks just because

a star on the hollywood walk of fame
for you sang and danced showing no shame

scandals of twisted truth
did not detour you from your missing youth

neverland was your own safari escape
who would figure your best friend would be a chimp of faith

michael may god cradle you in his arms
and basked in your king of pops worldly charm

will forever miss that porcelain smile
and always think of you on my radio dial

for now your at your heavens trial
may god forgive this lost and lonely child




In Loving Memory Of
Michael Joseph Jackson
Aug 29th 1958 - June 25th 2009

           RIP


Details | Lyric | |

The Escapist's Plea,

I dont know where i'm going anymore hard to tell who you are when the indiffrency has settled in cold, empty, barren will i ever find a way? Help me find a way out of this sorrow filled cage My soul singed with everyday Reality so hard to face I need to find a way to escape Only if i could just fly a way I try to stay sane But i fell under the september rain A repuiem for the reality That i never wish to see Help me find a way out of this sorrow filled cage My soul singed with everyday Reality so hard to face I need to find a way to escape Only if i could just fly a way I need a way to escape, Only if I could just fly away


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Bell's Blues (Conclusion)

     Today, I had a chance to ask his widow, Laurie, about this story.  She 
confirmed that it did happen, and he came home from work that day excited, and 
told her and their 3 daughters about the event.
     And sure enough, shortly thereafter, the song became a hit on the radio, and 
M.T.V., in those ancient days when they actually played music.
     This news brightened my day considerably, and I'm happy to share it with you; 
so when you next hear that song, remember my good buddy, Mark Trotiner, the 
uncredited genius behind it.
                                          tom bell


Details | Carpe Diem | |

Messiah

Something breaks inside this musty beggar.
As he awakes to see he's on 6th Avenue.
Where he sat and sang and endured the weather.
Where he sat and sang and sung the truth.
But the world didn't view things the way he used to. 
And couldn't seem to make them believe. 
The way that he saw things. 
The way that it should be. 

But I heard him play, like holy water.
And it opened up my eyes.
This man in tattered clothing; he's a, messiah, in disguise.
And I will sadly sing these awful songs. 
That were made in his design.  
Like music he sang all along.
Like music that's divine.

But Then his lovely daughter died. 
And he couldn't handle the grief.
He wrote one last sobbing song. 
And they found him in week.
Huddled in inside an alley-way.
Where he died inside his sleep. 
Dreaming on his daughter's eyes. 
Dreaming that he weeps. 

And now I'm singing songs about his daughter.
That brings a tear into to my eye.
This man in tattered clothing; he's a, messiah in disguise. 
So I will sadly sing these awful songs.
That were made in his design.


Details | Lyric | |

The Sex Confessions

The Bed
Your Mouth
My Touch
Our Lips

It’s a fever
In the night
Forbidden

Forbidden

Desecrated and damned together
Desecrated and damned forever
One naked flesh, we’ll die together
One naked flesh, making love forever

The Flame
Your Cries
My Salt
Our Wounds

It’s a fever
In the night 
Forbidden

Forbidden

Desecrated and damned together
Desecrated and damned forever
One naked flesh, we’ll die together
One naked flesh, making love forever


The Earth
Your Rain
My Seed
Our Life

It’s a fever
In the night 
Forbidden

Forbidden. 

Desecrated and damned together
Desecrated and damned forever
One naked flesh, we’ll die together
One naked flesh, making love forever

Hell
Regrets
Confessions
Of Love

Your  Love
My Love
Our Love
Love

It’s a fever
In the night 
Forbidden

Forbidden. 

Desecrated and damned together
Desecrated and damned forever
One naked flesh, we’ll die together
One naked flesh, making love forever



Details | Blank verse | |

he is leaving home

                            
                  In great respect of the band I grew up listening to
                       as sure as Mom passed down Saturday Chores 
                      for I had been chosen to scrub bathroom floors `

                    Yet a familiar sound would bring me to keep scrubbing
                       The red album, The blue album , The White album 
                        Then .. Abbey Road , always remembering the sad look on
                  Ringo's face ,  something hard to understand underneath~
                       
                      I get it now, what you were saying all those years ago ,
                    the many sad lonely tears , secret tears , secret fears 
                    For Maxwell's Hammer was a real one . It wanted silence

                    Going back ..remembering when John Lennon died 
                      I was in Arkansas saddened with the world .
                      Then seeing his face saying " Drag isn't it " 
                      No .. this was not my hero in music and song .

                      he was a stand in hired William , he filled his shoes 
                      bringing diversity to create so much beautiful music from loss

                       One left standing , alone;; grief struck on back cover ~
                       The other identity hidden, tried to be part of ..coming together
                                                                                                                                                                        
                            his  world of secrets
                        He to suffers today , in fear , Faul~
                       
                        Too many years gone by .let us tell the Truth. Let us be free
                         The very sad long and winding Road ~
                         Let us Bury our real Paul. 

                         No more " Mystery tour "
                             No more fear 
                                Let him be in peace ~


           Inspired by " The Last Testament of George Harrison , Is Paul Dead ? "

                






Details | Sonnet | |

OBLIVION

        OBLIVION
Your head is dead a chamber vast and void
and nothing's what you think on anymore
forgotten are all things you once enjoyed
and are replaced by life the constant bore.

Your brain's been drained you sit alone and stare
all hope's run out, your heart is solid stone
from night to day and day to night it's there
the wish to be forgotten and alone.

You think and sink into Oblivion
not caring if you fade or if you die
but only that you shed the shell you're in
you've gone beyond the questioning of why.

You are the death, the dark of greatest fear
the song of life only the dead can hear.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet


Details | Verse | |

Home of the Slaves

Land of the free
Home of the slaves
The blood, sweat and tears of my ancestors resonate
Amongst the soil where they were slain
I’m hearing their struggle
I’m feeling their pain
I can’t imagine being forced to part from my family
All for massa’s gain
So I pay homage to those who promoted change

People like every slave who tried to escape
Nat Turner, Ms Carlotta, Harriet Tubman
And the safe houses who were in accord
And peg leg Joe with his song
Follow the drinking gourd.

People like, the disregarded - those thrown overboard
And who was dismissed and defamed
The ones who were stripped of their soul, their pride, their names

The list could go on  
The full will never be told
So I pay homage to others who were bold
Like John Brown, The Freedom Riders, Sojourner Truth
Ida B Wells, Phyllis Wheatley, Maya Angelou, 
Langston Hughes and Charles Drew

George Washington Carver, Ruby Bridges
Booker T Washington and Mary McCleod Bethune
Charles Houston, Ralph Bunche, Fredrick Douglass
WEB Dubois, Paul Robeson, Ralph Abernathy
Benjamin Banneker, Marcus Garvey and Crispus Attucks
Who’s death by the way
Symbolized the American lie
You cant declare the rights of all men
While the people of African decent rights get denied
But still we rise

Thanks to Dr Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, 
The Black Panthers, the Buffalo Soldiers and Tuskegee Airmen
None who were showed any love
Yeah it’s an uphill battle, 
But obviously greatness can be done.

We can rise above this stigma 
That blacks are lazy and daunting
That our worth is null and void 
And in essence minus nothing
And of all the names mentioned 
And the greatness of their successes
No one has been able to erase the evil transgressions of a racist mind
And once you have experienced just a taste of it
It changes your perception of time
The oppression beats like the drum on the chariot
Of when it was finally time to escape to freedom
It's mine


Details | Epitaph | |

YAUCH, i cry

a tearful dedication to my lifelong brother, mentor, and friend Adam~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~aug.5, 1964-may 4, 2012

I owe you better than this...You were Heaven sent...
Eyes cascade tears I cry
do you know Y?   A. U.C.H.                   ~ (Y. A.ren't U. C.hillin' H.ere?)
I cry dry...
my ACE of spades, i miss you kid
my mentor
my man
my ILL-est friend
my Superman
my M.C.A.
why'd you have to fly, you'll never die...i cry i cry

the pen leaks
i sink 
it stinks it stings i cry i cry
side by side we were A.L.I.V.E. 
tho' i can hear Dechen cry, wipe tears from Lo's eye
wings you glide
the rhymes we rhymed, you and i
G -S.O.N. the sky, too short yir' time
the moon should refuse to shine
Losing your duty's shredding my mind i cry i cry
you remain so kind transcending your ending line
I CRY this way I crY I crY and I just do not own the right words to say, just as mc's squared you cared this way  
you shared melodies but now this sky's gone to Red from Grey,
i must make it anyway,
but trust when I say 
I love you MCA!

* I'm running into walls without you...


Details | Free verse | |

Barry Cowsill leaving

 
      A friend , a poet , a music Man , The Cowsills 
      remembering the song "hair" on the radio as a 5 yr old.
      As fate brought us together one day in New Orleans 
      Barry Cowsill  the hidden artist yet well known .

      Adoring your eyes and smile , hat , the look when you asked me ..
      "do you remember the Cowsills ? " as I then began to sing ..
     "long ,beautiful Hair,  Flaxen , waxen blacksen " Hair ! Oh daddy daddy " 
      his life and smile , his love , imagining  me for a while , yes ..in love.

     My Friend met his fate  passionate , his Legacy , bravely refusing evacuation 
     Katrina , a storm too strong for even An artist with a guitar , my love fallen
     Remembered now by all , for his remains were found under a bridge , 
     The Oyster poor boys , The zydeco to blues , Barry,  too great for Our World .
     Remembering the Jazz festival,  memories,  torn in my mind yet left behind ,

     Barry Cowsill , when I leave this World , will you come and bring me to yours ?


Details | Free verse | |

Gene, Gene, the Singing Machine

(in memoriam, Eugene Lawler, d. January 29, 2012, aged 83 years)

--- Note:  "The singing machine" is a not so tongue-in-cheek reference to Gene and his penchant for singing whenever and wherever he wished, as well as to his karaoke
equipment and his nickname at bars that featured karaoke nights. ---


You fancied yourself a singer,
and indeed you were.
What songs we heard from you
you had made your own,
and you gave them freely
to all who would listen
(though we were just a few
who were, at times, inattentive.)
Time and remembrance may color
the images you left behind,
and the sentimental songs
you sang (and scribed on silver disks 
for us to hear when, and if, we will)
may prod us to recall
your willful, dour demeanor
which could bloom into benevolence
or darken further in stormy sneers
at tardiness, or at perceived
maltreatment of any sort.
You were your own arbiter of behavior
who kept before you expectations
of what was appropriate, for yourself
and for us, the others of your kind.
We were few (still fewer now),
who flocked together on occasion
to celebrate, in quiet fashion,
whatever anniversary we chose --
perhaps your passing date
will become another to be marked.
And your voice, reproduced mechanically,
amplified, may remind us of our loss,
and of yours.  


Details | Terzanelle | |

George Gershwin Terzanelle

When you’re longing for someone to watch over you
think about building a stairway to paradise
even if it means you must dance alone with you.

It may feel hard for your heart to sing, soul to rise
It may seem like you got plenty of nutting,
no matter, let your heart climb a stairway to paradise.

Alone may seem lonely and off putting
Life filled with love means it ain’t necessarily so
Love fills you with song, if you embrace plenty of nutting.

For when life cuts you down, tells you it’s time to go,
or too early in life you think your man’s gone now,
trust me on this honey, it just ain’t necessarily so.

All alone with a keyboard, is one way to answer how
with things, even when you want  ‘em, you can’t get ‘em
 but music never leaves you, even after your love’s gone now.

With stuff, when you got ‘em, you may not want ‘em.
Be real and long for someone to watch over you.
With love of men, when you want ‘em, you can’t get ‘em.
Dance with heart upstairs, so you’ll never dance alone.


Details | Lyric | |

Untitled #188 / STARDUST

“And STARDUST we will be again”


Details | Narrative | |

The Woman In White

It was a cold and rainy night.
The stars were shining bright.
It seemed as if the world was at a pause and not a person was in sight.
I sat quietly in my car, 
the sound of music I heard blasting from a far.
I opened my door,
stepped out slowly and looked around.
Now suddenly the music stopped,
not a word is heard, not even a sound.
I turned my head, looked over my shoulder,
I saw a woman running.
She was wearing a white gown.
I couldn't help but wonder why this woman running
flaunted such a frown.
I followed her footsteps,
I listened for the sound.
Running through the darkness,
one question came to mind,
Who would leave this woman?
Who would be so heartless?
How can someone leave her when she is so obviously distraught?
Abruptly a sound was heard.
I came to a stop.
I listened closely.
It was a gunshot.
Now fearful I stood.
I began to run as fast as I could.
I ran so fast, I could hear my heart beating.
I came upon my car and noticed a woman bleeding.
She was gasping for air.
Someone had shot her and left her to die there.
It was as if they didn't even care.
She reached for my hand,
whispered softly to me
"never trust a man"
At that moment her hand dropped.
I knew her heart had stopped.
I looked at her white gown now dripping red.
I I cried to myself and pondered what she had said.
This could be me.
I could be lying here dead.
I will remember her words always.
They will haunt me for the rest of my days.
This moment I will never forget.
No man should ever be such a threat.

This was the day my life would change.
From this day on I would never be the same.
The lesson I learned here,
never have such fear.
Fear that will keep me from being free.
I learned that I can be happy just being me.