Best Cassette Poems
You’ll find us tied up with regret
We elephants never forget
This isn’t myth bunk
Thoughts can’t stay in a trunk
But play with the brain’s tape cassette
You dance love, and you dance joy and you dance dreams."- Gene Kelly
I am lost in an endless dream
My love and I are together
Dancing hand in hand, we're a team
Like the zephyr and a feather
Swirling and swaying to the beat
We are caught up in love's sweet trance
To the music, tapping our feet
Adrift in our fantasy dance.
Embraced in splendour of the night
We vowed that we’d twirl evermore
Waltzing the dream till morning light
Upon earth’s grandiose dance floor
Moments too precious to forget
Memories stored safely in heart
To replay in our mind cassette
Forever my cherished sweetheart.
I do not want this dream to end
To wake up and find I’m alone
But dawn breaks in to apprehend
Into the real world, I’m thrown
I await night’s darkness to sleep
To dream of my love and our dance
I am lost in fantasy deep
Hope this will last longer perchance.
Bleak since you left my heart and dreams
In your arms it felt so real
Tears cascade down my face in streams
The heartache I cannot conceal
Come back to me prince entrancing
We’ll waltz to happiness again
Dreams are for love and romancing
To a melodious refrain.
*+*+*
7th April 2023
Collab with Jo Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joanna Daniel
Turn up the radio and ...
It's the same ol' situation,
The same songs, same band
That raised my generation
That was then, this is now
Nothing's changed but my age,
And four numbers, somehow
On a calendar's page ...
It happened again today
In the store where I shopped,
In the restaurant, I heard it play
Proving the 80's never stopped
That was then, this is now
O, to revive a faded fad,
If we never forget how
Good times can still be had
Life, like a cassette tape
With two sides, was designed,
From Side A, Side B can't escape
If you just press rewind ...
When I'm all alone and sleeping on a shelf;
There is nothing, no nothing else;
That will mortify, magnify immortalize my soul;
Nothing will, Nothing else will...
Nothing but God can satisfy me;
Nothing but God can satisfy
Nothing but God can satisfy me
Nothing. . .
When I'm all alone and sleeping on a shelf;
There's nothing no nothing else;
That will mortify, magnify, and immortalize my soul, nothing no nothing
Nothing but God can satisfy me;
Nothing but God can satisfy me;
Nothing but God can
(From James E Lee Sr. cassette " Need You" 1985)
After checking the Sears and Roebuck and Montgomery Wards catalogs until their pages were torn and faded, we took one last look at the sales ads in the local newspaper, donned our socks and sandal, and jumped into the station wagon to head out to that brand new shopping place called ‘The Mall’. Wheee doggies it was something. That joint was a jumpin’. It was cool and hip and out of sight. I mean it was really far out man. The mall had everything you could imagine, all in one building. There was store after store jam-packed with VCRs, rotary dial phones, cassette tapes, console TVs, One-Hour Photo, Blockbuster, and Toy’s-R-Us. It seemed like they had everything under the sun ready for a layaway plan.
After paying for the purchases with paper checks written in cursive, we’d head on down to the food court or the all-you-can-eat buffet for lunch. We’d sit on the red plastic-covered chairs and light up a couple of Kents, Chesterfields, Viceroys, Virginia Slims, or maybe some Lucky Strikes. We’d take a couple of pictures with our trusty Polaroid to commemorate the day by adding them to the family photo album. At the end of the day, the kids would jump into the back of the station wagon for a nap while we drove the two-hour-long trip back home. It was a good thing we only had to stop for gas once because, after all that shopping and eating, I only had two dollars left from the fifty we started out with. Seems like the high cost of just living is one thing that will never die.
On Main street’s sidewalks,
the store sign say they are closed,
is Christmas canceled.
There is just one God,
there is just one...
There is just one God.
Under the sun;
There is just one God,
there is just one;
There is just one God;
There is just one God;
There is just one God;
He's the ONE...
There is just one God;
There is just one;
There is just one, God;
Yes, only one;
There is just one God;
There is just one;
There is just one God, there is just one God,
there is JUST ONE GOD
He's just ONE...
He's Alpha;
And He's Omega;
He's the beginning;
and He's the end;
He's the one who came down as man;
He had the plans to preserve our land and redeem our souls;
yes, He's (He IS THE ONE)
He is a just God;
He is just God;
He is a just God;
There is just one God;
Not under but OVER the Son
There is just one God;
There is just one God;
and He's is not under but OVER the Sun;
He is a just God;
He's just God;
(From 1985 James E. Lee Sr. cassette/album/anthology "NEED YOU"
5/1985
and I'm in love, with God;
There is just ONE;
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Every Breath You Take — The Police
Total Eclipse of the Heart — Bonnie Tyler
Against All Odds — Phil Collins)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They dance behind my ribs, these ghosts~
Every breath you take,
Every move you make,
I hear them still, though the speakers are cracked.
The night is a bruise, purple-black,
Turn around, bright eyes,
but the stars won’t rise,
just the hum of a neon vacancy sign.
And the odds? They laugh in my face.
How can you just walk away
when the ache stays,
a cassette tape jammed in an old machine~
rewinding,
rewinding,
but never
playing clean.
"Images"
The God that never was, puts one shoe on at a time
And spends four hours in the make-up room
Putting on mascara and eye liner for the darker look
Occult man of seemingly rebellious nature
Is deified by the masses that show up to performances
He, a man of strong portrayal even at a skinny 155 pounds
Grows stronger with every compact disc sold and the overuse of base
Blowing out of a sound system which rocks the car next to you
While you wait for the light to turn green
Abandoning social mores of quietness well into the night
The appeal grows everyday for a man really just making a living
Out of his fans age group they have no idea what he is
Whether the media builds him up or tears him down
As a good guy to hate and a bad boy at heart
Any press is good press, though infamy might be better for sales
Topping the charts and making parents sick of his songs
He is a beneficiary of childhood splurging and so inclined to be
The adults wish for a mere fifteen minutes of his fame
So their children would listen to them with the same respect
But who were they when listening to cassette tapes?
And the bands of the eighties put on make-up then
A man of mixed persuasion people are drawn to his ambiguity
The role model singing about jail time and Hennessey
A toughness to some is a weakness to others
It makes you wonder if the man knows who he is!
Whoever that is and for all it's worth
There will be more than enough of him to go around
In his image that is larger than life
Way back then when I was ten
the year was nineteen ninety-three,
Mom was so proud when I said aloud
that I made the school spelling bee.
Days of math sums and bubble gums
have faded through the years,
but I sing along to a certain song
and it still brings me to tears.
It was a big fad to dress all in plaid
and wear a necklace with a peace sign,
ponytails and ripped jeans worn by every teen
and neon colors were thought to be mighty fine.
I loved cassette tapes that let me escape
at least for minutes through my headphones,
while I would read and write notes in a Mead
after school when I was home all alone.
Kids shopped the malls and covered their walls
with posters from every teen magazine,
what made us sob was each new heartthrob
from every band, TV show and movie we'd seen.
With Rollerblades and a new pair of shades
we roamed the sidewalks until it got late,
our backpacks were heavy and filled with a bevy
of boring English assignments that could wait.
For many hours I could stay and sit and play
with Nintendo games, stickers and Treasure Trolls,
then aside they were tossed and some became lost
except for right here in my heart and my soul.
That time proved to be the most fun for me
O, how I wish that I could relive it again,
way back then when I was just ten
and the year was nineteen ninety-three.
The restless night had ended
abruptly. Caught between dreams and
consciousness, the town was arching towards
the sprinkled light of dawn. A perpetual regularity
reigned over the dusty path that led wayfarers and commuters
alike in and out of this forgotten cluster of humanity. Somewhere
out there, a man cursed, and, as if to answer, a woman laughed. A
repetitive metallic clang—the whines of an iron plate being hammered upon an anvil—
twisted with a dog's tedious, short barking to form a discordant ladder of dread, telling how the day might turn out. Punctuating that were the weary shouts of
the night guard. An advice. A message. “Awake! Morning is here.” “Awake!
Morning is here.” A woman walked beside countless others in a long, silent
procession. Steps measured and heavy, hardly disturbing the dirt, eyes ever
forward, locked at the sunrise. Life hadn't been kind to her. At forty-five she
looked sixty. It was just her luck that age had been frivolous enough to come
early, and sketch a crude lesson at cubism across the pages of her skin. The
grey streams on her hair had become a roaring river of high
monsoon. The frozen, dark pools of her eyes had given way
to the smokestack dullness. On that day, like the day prior,
she had woken up with honks of a garbage truck out on the
street and drunk the cheap, inky tea that she
had made for herself and her son.
Bathing under a valveless tap, she
had put on her helmet, and set out.
The siren from the jute mill had blared
with an obscene loudness and promise.
She had to answer. She squared her shoulders
and trudged on, reeling back into the open maw of her
her slow, almost languid death, like a cassette on rewind.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 31 / 12 / 2016
I've got a Bobble Head Buddha
That nods on the dash
Some guy named Gideon
Whose Bible rides in the back
Rainbow covered Rosary beads
Hang from my mirror with ease
I've got all the bases covered
As pretty as you please
Have my cassette of Hindu chants
Where I hum along
Shaved my head for Hare Krishna
In case I get it wrong
Holy water in my reservoir
So when my windshield wipers wipe
I have that added protection
Never knowing what might
A Yarmulke from a Bar Mitzvah
In the seat next to me
With a case of Watchtower in the floorboard
I pass out for free
No cigarettes or coffee
Like a good Latter Day Saint
In case Jesus comes back a third time
Who's to say that he ain't
With all my bases covered
I feel pretty safe
Guess I can now crank the engine
And start out my day
I'm a firm believer in Jesus Christ (who's only come once but will return) and his saving grace.
I just watch some people these days bounce around from whatever religion makes them feel good and this little ditty came to mind. Each of us have a hole in our hearts only the true God can fill. If you're not satisfied with where you're at, that right there is the problem. Don't rely on man to tell you who God is...let God do that.
If I’d picked up a snooker cue, when I picked up a pen;
and then gone on to build a break of eight or nine or ten.
If I had only listened more to those who understand;
who told me not to play the game by using just one hand.
If I’d just watched Big Break much more, instead of writing
rhyme;
and studied Foulds and Knowles instead of Byron all the time.
If I’d just gone and bought more chalk, and even used a tip,
upon my cue, then thought perhaps to practice just a bit.
If I had researched Virgo’s words instead of Wilfred Owen;
and written many papers on ‘Where’s The cue ball going?’
If I had only listened more to whispering Ted Lowe
instead of sometimes listening to Pam Ayres in full flow.
If I had studied Parrot’s wit and Alex Higgins flair.
instead of Larkin, Betjeman, Wordsworth or John Clare.
If only I’d heard Snooker Loopy played a little more,
instead of writing verses that sometimes never rhyme!
If I had just stayed up all night to watch the grinder ‘Cliff’,
and not penned many rewrites of Kipling’s poem ‘If!’
If I’d just seen the final frame in Nineteen Eighty Five,
and had a longer tape cassette which didn’t then rewind.
If I’d thought of a funky name like Jimmy ‘Whirlwind’
White,
or ‘Scarface’ or ‘The Rocket’, one which would excite.
If I had done these things I’ve said, then yes I’m sure, I
know it.
I would have been a snooker star, and not an unknown
poet!
(Based on Rudyard Kipling’s poem ‘If’)
Under my 8 year old brothers bed
lies my dog chewed Barbie, no sign of her head
a faded Snoopy cartoon, deflated yellow Birthday balloon
and one stuffed zoo animal baboon
Romote toy car from Uncle Tom
Cassette of Raffi, sing-a-long songs
half a fruit roll-up, and a beat up
tonka truck
A wooden dream catcher, made in Summer camp
his moon and star shaped night lamp
one lonely brown button from his Winter coat
A crumpled crayon castle drawing, complete with
an alligator filled moat
A real rabbits foot, for luck, from Grandpa Mack
half a fourth of July sparkler, old fashioned box of jacks
glass jelly jars of grass, sticks, leaves, assorted bugs
science fair worm farm living in moms old Garden jug
Under my 8 year old brothers bed
it has to be said, if you find yourself lost
beneath it
you are as good
as dead!
Yelling out the windows
Playing out side kick the can hide and seek tag your it
Jump rope TV black and white shows family time
Boom box radios cassette players taking a pencil
To roll up the cassette so it can play right
Every corner bodega potato chips ten cents
Penny candy playing out side till the street lights
Got dim and haul ass on home
Street pay phones ten cents to a quarter
When talking back was slap and a belt was
Your respect giving back not 911 involved
Sitting around the kitchen table talking about your day
Going dancing in the clubs and disco skating was a
Pass the time barbecues at a friends house parties
Music was used to get a girl our a boy
Brake dancing on card board boxes in the park
Block parties on the streets domino players chafer beer
Black out summer Nabors would look out for each other
When meeting someone was face to face not face book
When braking up was hard to do not via text
When calling home was payphones not cell phones
When playing games were fun out doors not in doors
When family get together were fun not fights
You cannot be serious
That ball was out
Sorry J. McEnroe
There’s no longer a doubt
The days of valve TVs
You tuned with a thump
And recording the charts
With cassette tape key clunks
Of writing a letter
You mailed in the post
Not mailing your client
Via some web server’s host
Or talking in person
Arrangements to make
Not sending a text
They can read in their break
Of reading a book
Or playing a game
No time to waste
It’s soap TV time again
The music’s much louder
The print face so small
Don’t worry J. McEnroe
It’s progress, that's all.