Pasadena Poems

Cantina Tina

Cantina Tina never met one meaner
Though she sure looked pretty as the night grew long;
And so did I, in the mirror of the john.
Bottom of the bottle is where the grass is greener.

A Skid Row guy with an eye for Pasadena;
Spend my nights between seventh and third
With old Jack D ’til the world is blurred.
Bottom of the bottle is where the grass is greener.

Out of County jail for a misdemeanor,
“No sir, Judge won’t be doing that no more;”
Hot foot it down to the nearest liquor store.
Bottom of the bottle is where the grass is greener.

Once had a girl, oh boy, you should have seen her
“It’s poker, pool, or me if you want me staying here:”
So yes, I went ahead and chose the boys and beer.
Bottom of the bottle is where the grass is greener.

So here I am, eyeing Cantina Tina
She’s sure looking pretty as the night grows long;
And so do I, in the mirror of the john.
Bottom of the bottle is where the grass is greener.

listening to the beach boys

sandals on my feet
the beach boys' songs are playing
a song melody
pasadena song comes on
little old lady like me

Everything Is Peachy Keen

Peachy Keen was thrown into the ether by a young disc jockey
His name was Jim Hawthorne, and it was nineteen forty-eight
Hailing from Pasadena, California, he was loved by the teenage crowd
Always making up words, like Hogan, intriguing and delighting them

one of the few slangs that has to be taken in by tone of voice
It either means something is really excellent, and you love it
or it means it is not good, and you despise it,
so when you hear it, listen for either playful admiring tone or sarcasm

I Should Not Drive To Oldies

I do not sing any of the new songs. But I can sing Let the Little Girl Dance.
Teen angel, I’m sorry, It’s now or never, everybody’s somebody’s fool.
Alley-oop, itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini and chain gang.
Poetry in motion, Georgia on my Mind, Little Ole Lady from Pasadena.

My foot is tapping in my car as I drive to I am Woman, Let it Be,
Ain’t no Mountain high enough, Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves!
We’ve Only Just Begun, Call me, Raindrops Keep Fall’n On my Head
Yesterday I noticed I was driving 98 miles per hours to the 70’s songs.

Pandemonium In Paradise

Of parrots and parakeets, no one knows
now numbering in the thousands
no longer Mexico's bucolic birds
new urbanized citizens migrated 
to the suburbs. 

If you travel to Los Angeles and county
where hobo avians flock to Pepperdine
hoping to matriculate to paradise..
Pasadenans know the raucous calls from palms
festooned in bright feathers and pheromones.

Should you wish to elicit a response
from a Red-crowned Amazon.. 
just ask any witch cat which hungers 
with an acute accessory olfactory
rife in feline grin and purpose
eye'n the skies cheerfully.

And somewhere Marianne Faithfull warbles
'this little bird who lives on the wind,
this little bird that somebody sends.'
they're listening too, with a coo and squawk
o'er the skies of Silverlake
and Eagle Rock. 

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    This Little Bird sung by Marianne Faithfull - Lyrics by J.D. Loudermilk 1965

Lil Ole Lady From Pasadena

In but a few notes in the seventies, I recognized The Beach Boys
Little Ole Lady from Pasadena inspired me to push petal to the metal.
I had never wanted to be in California, and now I wanted to live there.
Thanks to Surfer Girl, Good Vibrations, Kokomo, Wouldn’t it be Nice?
I am singing along, with my windows down, my hair flying in the wind.

These boys keep the happy beat coming, incorporating a bit of jazz
California Dreamin, Surfin Safari, Dance, Dance, Dance.
I am surprised to notice I am going a hundred miles an hour now.
Brian, Dennis, Carl, Mike and Al should be paying for my speeding tickets
I still drive ninety miles an hour to Little Ole Lady from Pasadena.

Pickelina Pickelina

Pickelina Pickelina, cutest dill from Pasadena 
she was hot, she was spicy with a crunch of very nicey 
With a dash of cosher dill she was Duken's favorite thrill 
was she gherkin was she Vlasic, what a bittersweet dill-emma ! 

Pickelina Pickelina middle name was Angelina 
thought she was a daffo-dill all decked up in lace and frill
Relished moments of pure taste, only needed one to baste 
Yes she was the sweetest dill, always dressed to over kill.

My Sixties Heart

Daisies in her hair
a Volkswagen bug
Giant yellow happy face
California dreaming
Beach Boy’s Music
Little Ole Lady from Pasadena
Sixties songs in my heart

Dancing To Cher

We sing our sixties folk songs 
And live in our Woodstock memories
Dancing to Cher’s Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves,
Hanging on to our excitement at surviving the seventies.

Peace is our sign, with love beads and Go Go boots
Thanks to Nancy Sinatra and “These Boots are Made for Walk’n”.
Don’t squawk, youngster, go your own way. Be you. 
Don’t just survive, thrive! Live your soul dream.

Take this guitar and travel the world. Take Route 66.
Here are the keys to my Chrysler. Sure she’s old, but she’s powerful.
Singing “Little Ole Lady from Pasadena” with Grandma is not enough.
You have to get out there and live. Your life is waiting!

Destiny is sending you a cookie cake. Gobble up those chocolate chips.
Like Auntie Mame said, “Life is a banquet, 
and most suckers are starving to death”.
Don’t let it be you. Go out and grab your gusto. 
Parade in your pizzazz.
Be your most delightful and delectable you! Live your ethereal truth, my friend!

Music From the Sixties

Yellow Submarine comes on the radio.
Beatles music.
I press the accelerator, flying past semis who had been chasing each other.

Little Old Lady from Pasadena comes on next.
I go insane, setting a new world record for speed.
Mama Cass’s voice comes out of that radio.
It is ON!

Shades of my youth 
When I blew two engines out of two cars.
Because I was that girl.

Sir Albert the Egghead

Sir Albert the Egghead was in an arena
somewhere 'tween Frisco and Old Pasadena
Determined to joust with the best of the knights
who'd ever assembled near Frisco to fight

He rode in on a sleek thoroughbred, oh so gallant
Awaiting his chance to show off his great talent
When into the picture a-ripping and raring  
Roared Hal the Computer on a steed with eyes glaring

Now Sir Albert the Egghead was deft with a sword
Many a foe, brave and worthy, he'd gored
But Hal the Computer was stealthily stealing
Sir Albert the Egghead's plot to be dealing 

A deadly steel thrust into Hal's data system
To render Hal helpless, unless he would miss him
Yet the brainiac foiled Albert's dastardly plot
And cracked the Egghead's brain-shell in two with a bot

What's the point of this story? --to tell you straight out
That machines can joust better than us, there's no doubt!

Biker Left For Dead, Me

February 5th, 1984, left for dead
Bottom of a mountain in Pasadena,
Me and my daughter’s bike, with the
Pedal I broke off with my foot when
We landed next to the twelve-inch curb,
In the street, the front tire still spinning.
Three cars had followed us down, honking
For us to get out of the way.
I had never found the brakes.
An older lady was the only car to stay, briefly.
She gave me an apologetic wave.
I will never forget her face, as she drove off,
Leaving me broken in the street.
February 5th, 1984, still as vivid as that day.

Thursday's Child

"Thursday's Child"




Saturday She Left


Saturday You Arrived


Tuesday Answers Delivered


Spirit of Ether Speaks	





(Lovejoy-Burton/April 2018)
LJ - G - L



”A circle is the reflection of eternity: it has no beginning and it has no end…”




















1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aether_(classical_element)

2. http://www.theosociety.org/pasadena/forum/f14n02p135_is-aether-spirit-or-matter.htm

3. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Astral_plane

4. http://pmj.bmj.com/content/postgradmedj/22/252/280.full.pdf

5. https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/the_beginning_of_memory_985070

6. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bardo

7. "Thursday's child has far to go...."

8. Music:  Goldmund, "Cascade"
https://youtu.be/4OtIzuBthVU

Never Let Me Down Again 101

If I remember this correctly 
I was about 15
At school in Cambridge 
Bunking off
Watching BBC 2
And Depeche Mode 101 was on T.V
Never really been interested in Music
Never bought a record 
Sport was my thing
But watched in awe
Never let me down again
Live at the Pasadena Rose Bowl
Gothic is the best way I could describe it
A spontaneous wave broke out
The hair's on my neck and goosebumps broke out 
When it finished 
I got on my bike
And rode to St Ives to buy the Album
I got to see them live 20 year's later 
A dream fulfilled 
And it never disappointed 
Better than I could have imagined
Better live than on record 
A timeless memory 
That stood the test of time
Is mine forevermore 
That never grows old
101 Live
Depeche Mode 
Never let me down again

Grand Hotel Tea Dance

Pasadena Big Band, On With The Dance

Nostalgic swing, singing the blues
So put on your dancing shoes
Get out of your chair
Dance like Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire

Imagining we are stars in a speakeasy movie
Dancing the Charleston, we're ever so groovy
"CUT", shouts the film director, "next scene"
The music stops, it's the end of the dream

Tea Dance with the Pasadena Big Band
The waitress serves on a silver cake stand
Cup cakes, petit fours and cress sandwiches
Just like in the black and white movies

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