Watched a weather program on local TV
It made me shake right down to my kneesies
Hurricanes, tornados
Amazing rainbows
Scary as hell, made me wet my dungarees
Watched the weather on local TV
It made me shake right down to my footsies
Hurricanes, tornados
Amazing rainbows
Scary as hell, made me wet my dungarees
I am in love with him
He doesn’t know what love is
I want to stay up all night with him
When his mind is playing tricks on him
He says he cares about me
I care about him too
He said he loved me
I wonder if his love is true
I love it when he calls me
His baby g
Look at the clouds above me
What do you see
I see an elephant
In dungarees
Is our love superficial
Or does it run deep
I can feel his heart beating
When we are asleep
I want him to be closer
This distance is killing me
But I just love him harder
Every nigh we are together
Two birds of a feather
I feel bound by a tether
I want to be with him forever
But this distance is killing me
When my baby loves me
Waivers day by day
But my baby loves me
Sometimes so it’s okay
In his arms forever
is where I want to stay
Watched a weather program on local TV
It made me shake right down to my tootsies
Hurricanes, tornados
Amazing rainbows
Scary as hell, made me wet my dungarees
In alleys devoid of light;
teenagers sleep on the street.
And fear arrives late at night;
to feed upon their conceit.
Delusions exchanged for lies,
they panhandle in the park.
And tears trickle from young eyes;
watching hunger carve its mark.
Drugs ease their physical pain;
not their frustration and doubt.
For their monsters can't be slain;
on the fringes of burnout.
Scrounging in torn dungarees;
youth confronts brutality.
And fragmented memories
are lost to reality.
As hypocrisy walks by,
some street teens barely survive.
And if fledgling birds can't fly,
can they ever feel alive?
Nature programs are all the rage on TV
The only thing interesting between you and me
Just one specie of millions
Livings in this pavilion
Imagine all the poop in our dungarees
© Jack Ellison 2015
The dungarees I used to wear
Were Levis, Wranglers, Lees;
There were no upscale denims then,
With fancy pedigrees.
They hugged my hips and fit real snug,
With bottoms flared like bells.
I wore them ‘til the hems were frayed
And then said my farewells.
Today I cleaned a closet, finding
Jeans in every shade –
Light ones, stonewashed, dusky blue,
Enough for a parade.
Some are baggy, others tight;
Most have legs quite straight.
Several hit the thrift store pile,
Sorely out of date.
As I tried them on, I thought,
I wish that I had kept
Just one old pair of dungarees
From days gone by, except…
You cannot resurrect the past,
So what would be my goal?
The girl who wore those Levis out
Was strictly rock and roll.
I still love rock but also jazz
And Mozart, I admit;
And sad to say, my current jeans
Seem like a better fit.