Long Strike up the band Poems
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Days
We are taught to number our days
Wishing always that laughter stays
Life then is beautiful and we rejoice
Make it last if we had that choice
Love and laughter go hand in hand
Dancing singing strike up the band
Exuberant thoughts our minds assail
Negatives swiftly conceal behind a veil
Like a sudden shower of relentless rain
Precipitously our world’s in acute pain
Mirth and joy swiftly turned to grief
Death the last enemy came in like a thief
Young and vibrant another life cut short
Amidst the pain and agony answers sought
Some asked the question does Jesus care
Precious memory he came and met you there
Sorely and profoundly missed in so many ways
Through grace teach us to number our days
Missing the Real... Red, White and Blue
rip yer guts out if yer able
put-cher colors on the table
red fer war and green fer envy
now dance yer jig with righteous gravy
you sell yer soul to istanbul
with lucre' from yer cock and bull
yer eyes they puke-up venomous snakes
for feasting nations, raise the stakes!
maybe- drop a bomb or two
that's how we roll in katmandu
our boys you send them to their graves
defending what? new amerikan slaves
the time will come, you'll see it soon
we won't build yer brigadoon
so give us back the land we love
crush all the cannons, send us doves
and we will once more strike-up-the-band
sing all the classics....ain't America Grand!
***inspired by PD's jammin' slammin!
07/17/10
5:55pm
helpful note: am reacting to a young Man's death in Afghanistan
two-days ago, from my town, defending an outpost in Kandihar,
he died alongside his two mates....we're all having trouble swallowing it....
There are dreams, unsought dreams, dreams fulfilled;
Why cherry pick - adventure is knocking at the door.
—by Poet
My Dream Within A Dream
they marched back into my life
was this the afterlife
the family of his wife
this was not his fantasy life
but that was a smile on his wife
to go forth from safe place called home
across ocean’s deep, I did roam
a dream to kick up foam
make a family of our own
be fruitful with seeds sown
and to grow a backbone
but still I missed my mom and dad
before I had writing pad
a Navy adventure I had
unsought dream that I had
putting your hand in God’s hand
hear music, strike up the band
where you put your feet is God’s land
a steady flow of dreams
He heard my heart song, it seems
long time before that, poetry -
a window, by the sea
wearing a Renaissance blouse
before I had a spouse
for true blue lit up my lighthouse
A cacophony of sounds, all jumbled together
Random notes, dissonance everywhere
Violin bows saw the air lazily, effortlessly
Then furiously, chins pressed hard to instruments
Flautists' lips wistfully poised above the holes
In a flash, diving deep into spritely melodies
Trombonists' brass bars sliding outward, then back inward
Deep tones scale upward, peak, descend again
Trumpeters' cheeks bulge outward, double-chins aflame
Beet-red faces, fingers marching, horns tootling
Cymbals clang and clash! Drums beat and boom!
Clarinets clamor... A cello... An oboe... The conductor's in slow-mo.
All this, prelude to a performance quite grand
To the concert forthcoming -- Strike up the band!
The guests had all left; the band had stopped playing
No more witty remarks, no more 'As I was saying'
Decorations strewn casually on the floor here and there
Half-filled glasses of champagne's stale odor downstairs
We looked at each other; we managed to smile
Surrounded by emptiness, crusted dishes in piles
Our heads still a-buzz from the night's gay repartee
These aches in our joints, souvenirs of exuberant glee
Turn back the hands of the clock, O you Guardians of Night
Nevermore burst forth rays of the dawn of morn's light
Play the music forever; let the champagne flow upstream
Perpetuate laughter, delicacies dainty, and dreams
For memories dim, as events recede in Time's sands
When the party is over, who will strike up the band
June 24, 2019
After the Party Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anthony Slausin
Strike Up The Band
Strike! Strike!
Strike up the Band!
If you're brown
please beware
If you’re black
watch your back
If you’re yellow
dive for cover
If you’re red
you’re already dead
Strike! Strike!
Strike up the Band!
They’re coming to take us away!
They’re coming to take us away!
Raise high the flag
Raise high those stars and stripes
We’re Christians and Hindus
Muslims and Jews
We work, we sing, we dance
We play in parks
On Sundays after church
We’re neighbors
We’re lovers
We’re builders, cowboys
waiters, and cooks
We’re hot dog vendors
and ice cream peddlers
We hoe your fields
and pick your fruit.
We drive your trucks
and plow your fields
We cut your meat
and herd your cows
You wonder the price
You wonder the vice
It’s time to De-Ice
Rid us of these lice?
Strike! Strike!
Strike up the Band!
They came and took us away
away
away
away to Guantanamo
I stood on the city street
And asked the passers by
All the folks I chanced to meet
What they thought of life
I got a different answer
From everyone I spoke
But isn't that a well known fact
That I should have known
Some said life's a circus
With all these clowns around
3 rings to be exact
If you care to count
Others said life's a minefield
So be careful where you step
One wrong move and you'll go boom
Leaving nothing left
Life is also a roller coaster
With a slow climb to the top
But once it is you get there
Hold tight for the drop
Then there was life's a puzzle
Built piece by piece until your done
But be careful in the end
You don't find a missing one
But also life's a symphony
So let's strike up the band
And just hope you play first row
And all the notes you understand
Not forgetting life is a game of cards
Where you play the hand you're dealt
Hoping while in mid-bluff
You're not found out
Yes everyone I asked that day
Had a different view on life
While some of them could be wrong
I'm sure most of them were right
Things are getting gross around here, wanna join?
Like tar pits, and there's room for one more
Big old rib bones poking up out of the muck
Greasy handshakes on top of paper on top of suits
And a shower and a couple dollars and a man on your back
A couple pills, honey, a couple drinks and a few deals
Strike up the band, play it backwards, that's how they're all doing it
That's how we all do it around here, babe
Come into this web, sleep with your eyes open
Put a little powdered protein in it
Hold the gun I gave you, just like that, you're doing so good, baby
My little star, here, add a little of this arsenic to your America
You're gonna go far far far far far
Soooooo.... this is just a random song I made up, inspired by a wacky dream I had...which was inspired by the Undertale game. I've been obsessed with one of the characters who really likes....you guessed it.... Spaghetti!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A one, a two, A ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!-
Mettah couple creepers today,
A scary flower and a silly ghostay,
But all was bettah when I stopped at a table,
I couldn’t ree-sist, I wasn’t able
Cause there it was,
Right in the way~
A platter of the best spag heh heh taaaaaaaaaaayyyyy
Spaghetti! Spaghetti!
Frozen and ready!
Someone's made it just for mee heeeeeeeee
Spaghetti! Spaghetti!
I loveah good spaghetti!
Especially with a lottsah meeee-heaaat
Met a couple skellies today,
They told me that my voice was kinda prettay
I didn’t believe um but they seemed so sincere
I think that they had one too many ah beer!
Must go well with this pasta delish!
I might takah lick right off the dish! (really....? :/)
Spaghetti! Spaghetti!
Luke-warm and ready!
Someone's made it just for meee heeeeeeee (PARMESAN CHEESE!)
Spaghetti! Spaghetti!
I love a good spaghetti!
Especially with a lottsah meeee heaaat
TOMATO SAUCE--!!!!
--NOODLES!!!!!
MUSHROOMS--!!!!
GARLIC!!!!!!!
YUM!!!!!
GARLIC BREAD!!!!!!!
Turn up the music,
Strike up the band!!!!
Hell, these monsters got the beat of the land!
Make way for THE chef!
The Great Papyrus, high def!
Clear the floors,
Open the doors!!!
Cause there's always always always ROOM FOR MORE
Room for MOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRREEEEE.... .
(Key change!!!!)
Spaghetti! Spaghetti!
Frozen and ready!
Someone's made it just for mee heeeeeeeee(random gospel lady: HALLELUJAAAAAH!)
Spaghetti! Spaghetti!
I loveah good spaghetti!
Especially with a lottsah meeee-heaaat
(One more time now!)
Spaghetti! Spaghetti!
Lukewarm and ready!
Someone's made it just for mee heeeeeeeee (HEARTBURN!---HURRAY!!!)
Spaghetti! Spaghetti!
I loveah good spaghetti!
Especially with a lottsah meeee-heaaat
Especially with lottsaaahhhh……MEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAT
Balls!
: D
Proud parents gathered for the fifth grade band presentation.
The kids labored long and hard to enhance their musical education.
'Twas the band's first concert since its recent organization.
The harried teacher approached it with a sense of trepidation!
Moms and dads endured the commotion at home for many weeks,
As their blossoming prodigies practiced and honed their techniques.
Suffering through the blare of trumpets, the bleat of saxaphones,
The wail of clarinets and oboes, the atonal pitch of trombones!
The girls were dressed in white blouses and black, slinky skirts.
Boys wore dark trousers, black bow ties and snow-white shirts.
Each of the girls had a pretty ribbon adorning her hair.
Boys had even combed their hair - which was very rare!
Teacher apprehensively grasped her baton and waved the downbeat.
The program began with a simple rendition of "Bonaparte's Retreat."
At the end of the concert a heartwarming thing occurred.
The audience rose exclaiming, "Twas the sweetest music ever heard!"
Though at times they were not in tune and the tempo somewhat slow,
They proudly gave it their best and put on a wonderful show!
Was a spark in a child's soul that night fanned into a flame,
Boosting his or her enthusiasm to strive for musical acclaim?
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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