Sometimes you will go overboard
to try to prove a point
Like not being told what to do
I think that comes from being in the joint
Sometimes you will think certain things
that will be way out of the norm
Like someone is thinking something of you
but it's from your own thoughts that they form
Sometimes driving you see a car
and you'll think someone is after you
Oblivious to what you are thinking
I just carry on with what I do
Sometimes we will be in a crowd
you will seem anxious or ill at ease
I wish for you peace at this time
God give him solace please
Sometimes I wish I could change him
make him into someone he'd love
too many years of being conditioned
He lost when push came to shove
Making Waves
Sexy dancer to the waves.
See how she moves to the music.
Base turned up full boom boomboom!
Even when she’d driving, she dances.
Her stereo on full while she nods her head.
She’s the stereo loving gal and don’t we know it?
Her job is her life in a Go-Go bar.
Watch her turn, wiggle and dive for the punters.
Pay her a dollar and she’ll suck, buck and you.
Doing this and more to the tunes.
Her body is the ocean and her soul the wind.
Her moods match these and she always gets her way.
This gal isn’t poor or stupid.
Because she owns everything in the joint.
The bar, the stereo, the band, the songs, the punters.
She looks like a whore.
Anyone else wouldn’t be like this.
Except for a naïve innocent teen used and abused.
It’s high class illusion.
Part of the show and old routine.
No more or less is given by Sexy Sultry Sharon.
In her bar by the sea.
She does six shows a night.
Bearing all and more for the likes of you and me.
So off we go to her bar.
Bring all your cash and an open mind.
You’re in for the night of your life so don’t be late!
Whistle Blowers
By Franklin Price
10/26/2019
Whistle blowers everywhere
When causes need a shove
Funny how they have no names
For finger prints, a glove
They come out of the woodwork
Close to the powers that be
Might suffer repercussions
If they gave identity
Want no risk for what they say
For fingers that they point
If they remain anonymous
Won't end up in the joint
Our Nation's founding fathers
Were whistle blowers too
They signed the Declaration
Disclosed who would lead the coups
Risked their lives and their possessions
For all that they believed
Drew the line within the sand
So no one was deceived
If you're a whistle blower
And what you say is true
Sign the declaration
That's the least that you should do
Poetically Presented Politics
By Franklin Price
3/1/2016
Poetically presented politics
Is something I find fun
Try not to party orient
Or point to who's the one
Look for funny foolish things
That should not be a point
If not used in the current race
Could put runners in the joint
If half truths got an Oscar
And a sidestep got them two
All would be awarded one
And most of them a few
Seventeen
By Franklin Price
7/30/2015
Seventeen when will it stop
A traffic jam we need a cop
Too many think they're heaven sent
That they can run for president
Can't get together have a meet
A forum for that mighty seat
If they could just cooperate
They may have stopped at only eight
Another example of their plight
Won't work together only fight
Better soon find where it's at
Or four more years of democrat
Not so many on that side
Just a couple for the ride
Scrambling to present their point
Or maybe end up in the joint
How have the parties come this far
Think they're all drunk just left the bar
That would make a little sense
How else could they be so dense
Hard to decide who gets our votes
They are not lions they're only goats
One will lead us lambs astray
We'll find who it is on voting day
May not like it maybe will
I just know I've had my fill
Of many posers now hell bent
Who think they can be president
some days are too long, too draining, too sad
some days last...
frozen
something missing,
blame is all you get
stop screaming,
the outside world isn't listening.
this door is closed.
the judge himself is not man enough
to judge himself-
he worries about
unrelenting judgments
that began in the New York Hills
the eastern door when
you bit your lip as a guarantee
inner turmoil was real to you,
the wall is real to you,
and you can’t get out
this door is closed.
stay a little bit longer on the ground-
do whatever your blue collar working-class hypothesis tells you.
your roots
are shatterproof,
life on the street is harsh
harsherer than life in the joint
and every five seconds somewhere in the world, someone goes blind
and can’t find the door.
Letting the music flow through me.
Enveloping me and helping to ease my mind.
Lightening my spirit and calming my heart.
Allowing me the freedom to expand my imagination.
Let the stress of the world slip away.
Running down my spine to land in my feet.
Slipping out of me to flow along the floor.
Gaining a life of its own.
Starting a strange and new journey
Turning from stress to a multi-colored creature.
Absorbing everyone's stress and negativity.
Feeding off it and turning it to a brilliant display.
Lightening the mood in the joint.
Setting toes to taping.
Hands a twitching.
Hips moving and bodies grooving.
Notes flow and float in the air.
Energizing the crowd.
To an almost frenzied state.
Working better than any drug possibly could.
Potent and pure.
This has brought my express train to a halt.
A smoky distillation of barley malt,
has me unable to think straight.
Here I am in the joint very late.
One shot was not enough to sate me;
soon there came number two, then three.
What first tasted smooth was getting a little rough.
The bartender then told me I had enough.
He just called a taxi to take me home.
Tomorrow, there’s no way I’m going to roam.
This booze in the brown bottle put me on the shelf.
I swear this stuff was made by the devil himself.
QUALITY CONTROL
Visions of scientists in white coats, with glass jars
Scraping layers of paint off new cars
Or women with heavy blackframed glasses
Weighing the sugar content of two sweetened masses
Or testing the strength of steel cables to breaking point
(Same approach to the patience of the menfolk in the joint)
But equally when your neighbor puts down his banjo
For out to the backyard lightning-still he’s gonna go
Check to see the alcohol content is always the same
And put a match to a spoonful and watch the flame.
Or when the gas station guy changes a tire, and you arrive
Late, you kick the tire before you drive.
Quality control can be done with lens and vial;
But equally it can be done bronco-style.
Our mothers warned us not to point
As early as the age of two.
She told us there are better ways
To insure our own point of view.
Our teacher used a long pointer
To show us where and how to look
And taught us to use a marker
On important points of the book.
One must have a sense of humor
To get the point of a good joke.
Using the pointed end of stick
To make your point, will but provoke.
Point Clear, Point Acme and others
Are the scenic names of some towns.
Living in these points of interest
Will surely bring more ups than downs.
There is nothing more important
In percentages than the point.
A point criminally misplaced
Might bring you ten years in the joint.
Paste on your passion smile
Crisp all your words
as you settle yourself
to be self-consumed, heard
Whisper sweet nothings
which only you know
Don't stop the banter,
the words or the flow
You've reached the summit
of the loneliest point
You're king of the vacancy
best in the joint
Write all your poems
on the back of your hand
and read them at supper
of cream pie and sand
Your siblings will stand up
and whisper applause
You've felt all emotion
and ridden all stars
They bid you good-bye
for you're out of their league
and to think you just wanted
to be heard, succeed...