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Poem

COUNTRY MUSIC

I was ravaged today
by

three consecutive country songs 
on the radio while driving
each moaning the lyrics  
". . daddy's pickup truck"
and "the Georgia mud"
while whining that
"she was leavin' me!".

God what woman
would not leave if that was
all she ever heard from him
or ANYONE ELSE!

I reckon he lost 
because
the fourth song I heard
had ". . . drink a beer!"
ending each and every line!

Is there no shame of style
anymore?

Even David Allen Coe trashed
better, with "The Perfect
Country and Western Song". 
At least the drunken pickup
driver was meeting his jailbird
mama, not daddy, in the rain
and crashed his own pickup 
into the train!

Oh Waylon, Kris, Willie, Tom Paul
Chet, Loretta, Bill, Lester, Roy
and all you others un-named
legends!  what have you 
let happen?

Where are the lonesome, snow white
 doves, the mule train sorrows, 
the wildwood flowers, the Tennessee waltzes,
the shotgun willies of songs gone by?

Why was I ravaged today 
by

The flashing neon sign ghosts
of disturbed country music, and not
pleasured by delicate originality?
Are we no longer able to compose,
play in a twitterless world
of art, creativity and valued songs?

Alas we have lost I want 
to scream

Turn off the radio, the IPOD, 
close the door

I will spin my LP's once more,
crash my pickup into daddy's garage
and listen to Les Paul and Mary Ford,
. . . end my culture, 
. . .  "drink a beer!".

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