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Rightly Jennings Poem
if I could see you, one time,
the way you dress
If I could see you as you are
the way God made you in
the dress of Eve
the way you may silently weep
but all I see is masquerade
all I see here is deceit
if I could hear you, one time,
the way you speak
if you have anything to say
sing me a song however
quietly
won't you come step out of the shade
'cause all I see is masquerade
and all that I hear is masquerade
'caught between a very tight space and a
long length of time
I've no use for anything that's not
completely mine
take back your olive branch,
your bird of freedom,
mountain highs and valley lows
pomp n circumstance in
need of reason
trim n prune that bloody rose
'cause all I see is masquerade
all I see here is deceit
if I could see you, one time,
the way you are
Copyright © Rightly Jennings | Year Posted 2015
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Rightly Jennings Poem
t'was a splendid night and I'm feeling hopelessly unknown
had a good old time, just a reeling with stories to be told
now the paint is running out if the frame
with my pockets emptied of loose change
I was young when I left home
I was young when I left home
when the heart is great and the world proves itself too small
n' when a stark ambition arises if only to fall
the battlefield was left bloody and cold
they all had knives but I came through alone
I was young when I left home
I was young when I left home
may you find yourself
a good someone to talk to
and say to hell with these
errant waves of misfortune
then I hear your name from the darkness as I'm walking through the snow
and a pleasant warmth embraces me, seeps deep into my bones
there is no pretense in your sweet smile
and I find the strength to go the extra mile
I was young when I left home
I was young when I left home
y'must find yourself
a good someone to talk to
and say to hell with these
errant waves of misfortune
'young when I left home
I was young when I left home
Copyright © Rightly Jennings | Year Posted 2015
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Rightly Jennings Poem
Standing in the hall with his sword and his shield
Trying to recall his glory in the field
He sees that peace is not all it is said to be
And he's learning now to suffer quietly
Friendship, sweat n' blood, there was a mortal fear
It was brotherly love and without a single tear
Oh, the angel of death you could hear her wings
Right now there seems to be no real need for anything
I could wish nothing more vile on my closest enemy
Than to turn back, recover his tracks and to suffer quietly
Slave to the mundane such as no other animal
Deluded he lays claim to the incompatible
Haunted by the facts, confronted in his shame
It's a life on the run through a carnival of pain
Coerced by the wily fools that he must serve
Do harm unto your neighbor, plunder the earth
N' With no other option than to guard his patch
And Orpheus , he gave word there's no looking back
There is no comfort to be found in abject misery
n' Forever is a very long time to while away cowardly
I could wish nothing more vile on my closest enemy
Than to turn back, recover his tracks and to suffer quietly
Copyright © Rightly Jennings | Year Posted 2015
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Rightly Jennings Poem
There are people in the street
One single voice can be heard
All eyes are wide but they don't see
Revolution does not mean
The end of the war
The end of the war
Kings of the world 'round these parts
grab all the money and run
soon thereafter times get hard
they're on to us with loan-sharks
Take all the money and run,
They don't stand for what they've done
In another world, th`smell of your hair,
th`touch of your skin is neither here nor there
where am I to begin, for whom am I to care?
It came to me in a dream
and I believe ev'ry word
No common ground in between
and only the dead have heard
The end of the war
The end of the war
Revolution means nothing
and only the dead have seen
The end of the war
The end of the war
The. . . . . end. . . of. . . . the. . war.
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This was actually a fast write, I'm very happy to get this one done. It'll be a mad blast to put on the stage. It sounds like an anti war song but it isn't, it just makes a relevant observation and asserts it's conviction that life is suffering.
Copyright © Rightly Jennings | Year Posted 2017
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Rightly Jennings Poem
there is nothing wrong with me that you cannot fix
and I'm stronger than a tree when my heart's in it
you could tear me down without making a sound
or you could give me what I need
whatever they may fancy
there is nothing wrong with me
malice on the face of insult stands before the setting sun
though the night may still be useful if you see me just walk on
there might be some blood but it's all good
if their cold hearts need not beat
to the devil with all bounty
there is nothing wrong with me
I've been around like a ball, it's easy to fall
so maybe I've changed but that's all
let it be understood, that it's really no good
stay the same and you will fall
though the way ahead is hard and under several shades of doubt
we can make this place our garden if we stay and work things out
from the worst it can get to the very next step
we will find our mountain peak
and as far as I can see
there is nothing wrong with me
Copyright © Rightly Jennings | Year Posted 2015
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Rightly Jennings Poem
Sacred Heart
The uphill spring of this morning's events
Has washed me clean of all common pretense
Swept up in the rush and I once more...
Into a world of punches, go bruised and sore
Suffer fools sadly, with my savoir-faire
Leave the table hungry, why should I care
Th' sandman didn't come, up since the dawn
Walk against the wind, walking in the sun
Feel the pull, the improbable, my first born
Without my sacred heart I might get something done
Sacred Heart
Now, I don't mind trouble, I hold my own
But she's the one thing moving I call home
I'll not see her though, not if she sees me first
Relaying anecdotes, if that's the way it works, then it works
She's the stuff n'sure enough second to none
Without my sacred heart there's little to be won
Sacred Heart
Copyright © Rightly Jennings | Year Posted 2015
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Rightly Jennings Poem
So Malcolm has been flirting,
like a player with next to no faith
he gets wet when it is raining,
wi' no protection in a tight space
keeping tags on what's been borrowed,
will only add to your heavy heart of sorrow
tread lightly now, as you go down,
down the straight and narrow
Watch the drama from your window,
from the frames n' dusty shades
hold your verdict 'cause you'll never know,
all we've got are faces and names
he'll compromise his good conscience,
skin so thick, slick n' tough, like leather
it's getting ever so much harder since
he's been old enough to know better
the way he came is the way he'll surely go
Off the cuff don't sweat the smaller stuff,
between passion and common sense
you will know when he's had enough,
Malcolm lights up in self defense
fascinates skin-tone to marrow,
quicksilver-fast-talk cheap impossible to follow
do listen though, it's a beautiful sound
and mighty like the sparrow
the way he came is the way he's sure to go
down the straight and narrow
You wouldn't last a minute, not in my world, baby
you might take some pride from that
you've been in it an' getting nowhere lately
there's a bee-hive under your hat
it's never easy to leave the hometown,
n'them wanton brothers of questionable virtue
the one thing you now know is how
sweetness will surely hurt you
tread lightly now, as you go down
down the straight and narrow
Copyright © Rightly Jennings | Year Posted 2015
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Rightly Jennings Poem
Im talking with nobody listening, see,
front line walking just like a refugee
sentimental, old friend says I'm out of touch
so hard to be gentle when handling the softer stuff
you've seen this face before, You remember the name
in mass-production I, I'm plenty of the same
much more than y'bargained for, now, don't lose your cool in the rush
stripped down n' ribbon bound on arrival the petals are crushed
more than a brother, too dear to bid adieu
another armchair moralist, the word is not the truth
another armchair moralist, too close to be cut loose
down under the waterline, down in the thick of it
I surrender one last time, although, truly sick of it
my nightmare scenario, yeah, my indiff'rence killer
after I hopping over bedpans go to find him in the mirror
only I and I alone must throw myself to the wire
as you sit on a distant throne, too green for the fire
what will it amount to, in the case that it does not combust
I could do without you only missing the sense of enough
more than a brother, too dear to bid adieu
another armchair moralist, the word is not the truth
another armchair moralist, he's dear to me,
too close to be,
expensively... cut loose
Copyright © Rightly Jennings | Year Posted 2015
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Rightly Jennings Poem
first man borne of earthly woman
wakeful n'fresh as the morning dew
the heavens fell he, was false as hell
over which he was meant to rise and rule
There was sin, waiting in desire for him
only one shade darker than quicksand
sunken in haste, so as to mask all trace
blood of Abel crying out from the land
chasing tail in a cycle
of blood and of grain
bold and profane
the mark of Cain
expelled from all the glory of Eden
sent forth n' far from the grace of God
flesh o' his brother, fruits of th' field
he built a city in the land of Nod
industry of lust, engines of sin
we begin wi' all fair favor spent
sound n' fury, live n' love thy mis'ry
daggers in the smiles of foe and of friend
'laws of human nature
they won't ever change
ne'er to be forgiven
the mark of Cain
the mark of Cain
Copyright © Rightly Jennings | Year Posted 2015
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Rightly Jennings Poem
Living the dream with bouts of insomnia.
Struggling with unfair demands of good faith.
Strength of the absurd I've heard they're on to you
And with the intrinsic value of clay.
White flags waving over your winter chimneys
Accepting defeat with no loss of face.
Don't waste breath on me, y'know what the truth is
Carry yourself with an auspicious grace.
With both of us wrong were I to agree.
You'll grant me this one, this one small victory
Wake up a stranger in the land of promise.
Then get back n'find that not so much has changed.
Mornings glory was anything but honest.
Tidy lill' trap in a dec'rative frame.
Clearly out of view, loud, good at what I do
Get what I want, things should work out just fine.
Never put the hood over tactile values
Myopic thugs, most faulty by design
A prerequisite of our future history.
It belongs to me, this one small victory.
With both of us wrong were I to agree.
You'll grant me this one, this one small victory
Copyright © Rightly Jennings | Year Posted 2015
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