Plight of the Slave

I appear to all a home body,
Someone who never leaves town.
I seem to be an understudy
To a fool, to a clown.
Now the clown, he owns me.
I'm his slave, that's a fact,
And if I did try to flee,
I would be tracked down and whacked.

I need to get away to a far off place,
Where I can get piece of mind.
I need to see the good side of the human race,
For the evil in it is making me blind.
All I want is a little peace,
Something I know must exist.
I'd like to have my release,
For this torture must cease and desist.

Freedom comes at a high price, they say,
So I best prepare to pay my dues,
For if I want freedom to come my way,
It's either all or everything to lose.
The clown, well, he just frowns
At the thought of my running away
To foreign countries and stunning towns
For many, many a day.

It's freedom for me, as I've said,
A sweeping change for me,
As I've defeated the clown, put him to bed,
And then set sail out to sea.
I'm whistling some tunes, sweet, sonorous tunes
Way up high in the sky,
And I've explored below from hot air balloons,
And will do so until I die.

The Daisy

Open to the whole wide world,
It's a beacon of light for us to see.
It's not so much inundated in elegance
As it is just plain beauty,
And sometimes, the natural is better
Than what one can gather from the artificial.
The daisy makes one wonder what God was thinking.
A bright sunny middle, and we're all like the planets;
Its white petals, simplistic in His sartorial genius.
Yes. Mankind can take a note or two from it,
For it appears to be unambiguously comfortable
In its own skin. Or whatever those flowers call it.
Anyway, I can only guess why the daisy is so beautiful.
We should place it upon a pedestal.

Death of the General

Driving down the road,
Listening to some tunes,
Hearing a loud pop,
A sound I dread.
I pull over, frightened,
But I don't know why
When I already know the answer.
The General died on me.
That bastard.
He couldn't have lived on
For a few more measly miles
So I could make it from Point A
To Point B.
And so it is with this dead bastard
That has left me wrathful.
I turn him loose and find
That has been stabbed
By someone's nail left
In that winding black river of asphalt
On which I drive.
I ponder this: Why couldn't he have the sense
To move away from the pending danger?
Didn't his mama ever teach him
To stay away from sharp objects?

Oh. I forgot. The General is a bastard.

Alas, the show must go on.
I appoint a temporary officer to pull rank
Whilst I search for a more long term answer.
After that, I play the part of the undertaker
By dumping his sorry round ass into the trunk
And read him his last rites.
With this, I enter the hearse
And drive toward the funeral home.
I want to kick him so badly because he couldn't hold up,
But he was such a cheap bastard.
I guess that means
Some of the blame belongs to me
Since I simply wasn't willing to pay more.

When the Music Stopped

Once upon a time,
You were a fountain of notes
Just resonating from the heart,
From your golden soul.
Then the day came
When the music stopped.
Bleak times were ahead.

It was as if your lover suddenly perished.
A seemingly unfillable void was left to you.
You didn't know what to do anymore.
Your golden soul was tarnished.
That day came
When the music stopped.
You just wanted to die.

You wondered around a perpetuating desert
That was so very, very dry,
Craving something to quench the thirst
In order to give your body life.
Music was like water.
When the music stopped,
Your life's spring just ran dry.

You just needed to escape,
To get away from this nightmare.
But then you know you'll always have the memories.
Memories never go away.
The memories pierce your soul of
When the music stopped.
You can never escape the memories.

If I Could Trap Time in a Bottle

As the sands of time descend,
We are ever closer to the end
Of a love that was preordained
But, in substance, never gained.
She came to me with glowing eyes
Which gave this old bruiser butterflies,
But I never seemed to pick up that scent,
The one that only God could have lent.

If I could trap time in a bottle, I would,
I really would if I knew I could.
It's not everyday under the sun
That I shall meet the chosen one.
I'm the schmuck who just realize his affinity,
For it's too late, she can't last an infinity,
But if I could trap time in a bottle, I'd change fate,
And start things over with a clean slate.

The clock keeps ticking on, so I see,
I know there's a place I should be,
At her door, with red roses in hand,
The finest floral in the land,
To demonstrate to her my love so true,
For her, whose eyes are ocean blue,
And if I did not notice, it would certainily be a crime,
For I would've then wasted more time.

My Sand Castle

Sitting on the edge of the ocean,
I dig around in the sand,
Daydreaming of brave warriors
Fighting fire-breathing dragons,
You know, those sorts of things.
I dream of days gone by,
And perhaps of days that never were,
And I continue building my sand castle
Reminiscent of the real ones in England.

I pretend to lower the bridge
And invite my friends to cross the moat,
And allow them to witness the majesty
Of my own Camelot,
Simply the grandest castle of all.
What a magnificent city
Conceived by my own two hands,
And I continue building my sand castle
Reminiscent of the ones in medieval times.

Here, 'tis finished for all to see,
For I have worked so very hard.
I feel God gave me the vision
In these capable hands
To create the beautiful and the sublime.
They say art is subjective,
And I'm sure that you'll agree,
But I built this sand castle
Not for you, but for me.

Mean Woman Blues

She is saturated
With vitriolic tongue.
She's just mean spirited.
She's just so cold.
Why is she like this?
I just don't know.
I wish I could kick her ass
All over town.

Mean woman, mean woman,
Ol' mean woman blues.
She gets under my skin,
And that's a matter of fact.
She has a dire lack of goodness,
A dire lack of empathy.
She gives me the shivers,
The ol' mean woman blues.

The pain.
The pain of it all.
The pain she wreaks
On us all.
She's just so cold,
Cold as ice at heart.
I wish I could kick her ass,
Or rip her apart.

Mean woman, mean woman,
Ol' mean woman blues.
I just don't comprehend
How one can be evil like her.
If you gave her a knife,
She'd stab you in the back.
She gives me the shivers,
The ol' mean woman blues.

Stella

I love you, my fair lady,
Oh princess of the stars in the sky.
You make my life complete,
Oh rose petal on my hand.
I may not be a perfect man,
But I'll be the best one I can be.
I love you, dear Stella.
This poem's for you.

I've written many a word in my time,
A plethora of song and verse.
I think it's high time
That I write something honoring you.
I may not be the best poet,
But that doesn't really matter.
I love you, dear Stella.
This poem's for you.

Oh, I can write how you compare favorably
With the sun's showering light on a clear blue sea.
But that wouldn't do you any justice,
Don't you see?
To that end, the best I can offer
Is a simple, "I love you."
I love you, dear Stella.
This poem's for you.

Last night, I was wondering
What you might be doing,
For after all, we were separated
In a moment only to be described as sad.
Stella, I wanted to dine with you,
A nice pasta dinner for two,
With glasses of Tuscany's finest wine, if that be true.
What do I know, for I'm a novice on romance,
So I think I'll stick with this here poem
And hope that it strikes true.

So, accept my apologies for daydreaming,
But they so occupy my time,
For you see, we're one plus one
And we add up to two.
I guess I should stick with what I seem to do best.
I love you, Stella.
This poem's for you.

Dancing in the Moonlight

The sky is pitch black, and the moon is out.
I think everything's perfect, is alright.
I think our moment has arrived, mi amore,
So let's not waste anymore time here tonight.

Listen to the music in the background,
Gentle, sweet and sound, a sonorous bliss.
It just makes me want to dance the night away with you, darling.
The candlelights display the way to my heart.

We're making waves, darling, I think we're making waves.
The flames are melting down tonight, so let us do the same.
Hand in hand we are, we're lovers to the end.
I kiss you here this evening, here, with a tear in my eye.

You are so beautiful, dear,
More darling than the orchestra's song.
Our hearts are there together, so let us treat them right.
Nothing is more beautiful, I think,
Than two lovers dancing in the moonlight.

My Love Is Not Enough To Have You

I think I could love you,
No, I know I could... I could, indeed.
There is no doubt in my mind, baby;
I think we hold the keys to each others' hearts.
Your sweetness defies belief, you see,
The definition of the sublime.
But there is the distance
Between you and me and my little black box,
And inside, I cry, knowing it may be true,
Knowing my love is not enough to have you.

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach
The first time I talked to you.
You may think it's skin deep,
And you may think it's all desires of the flesh,
But inside my soul, I know it be true,
And that is how I love you.
But there again is the distance
Between you and me and my little black box,
And inside, I cry, knowing it probably true
That my love is not enough to have you.

There are many miles between us, dear,
But there are equally as many smiles between us both.
I think it would be more than something physical.
You treat me kind, and I try to reciprocate
The best that I know how,
Because I hold out hope that there is a chance for us.
But there again, we have the damn distance
Between you and me and my little black box,
So I guess I might as well resign myself to cry,
For my love is not enough to have you.

The Epiphany

I've met many a face in my time,
But none were quite as unique as you.
I've written many a rhyme,
But none meant to me anything true
As the stuff I now write about you.
So I guess that it means
You really are something quite special.
I exalt you to a higher plain,
The epiphany that I've sought.

You can ask today what my name is,
And I'll be more likely to forget my own
Before I forget yours, for it gives me bliss.
I'll call you up on the phone
And tell you that my love isn't on loan.
I'm all yours to mold into what you will.

Girl, I tell you that you have put a spell on me.
I think it's that New Orleans voodoo-magic stuff.
For you, I'd sail across a raging sea,
And I'll prove to you my love for you is tough.
Nothing in this world would be too rough
For me to obtain for you,
So have faith in me, as I have it invested in you.

A little chuckle would do me good,
For it would warm my soul just right;
It would serve for me as my soul food.
Follow me to bed tonight,
And let us wish upon star
For God to allow us to love and let live alright.
I see us as a heavenly love,
For his divine dove flies above,
And it's sure to be a splendid time. You shall see.

Where the Hell is King Frog?

Oh where the hell is King Frog?
Oh Lord! Please do tell, pray tell.
I can't find him in any swamp or any bog,
And I've searched everywhere so well.
Some folks point me northward.
Some folks point me southward.
And, except for my occasional brush with a dog,
I never to find anyone, let alone King Frog.
He must live in a strange pond,
In some mystical, fictional pond,
And, as is probably the case with King Frog,
It's cloaked in some pretty thick, imaginary fog.
They tell me to drive to Adel,
A town deep south in Georgia ... OH WELL!
I guess I'll make the long drive and drift like a log
In order to find His Majesty, the "ubiquitous" King Frog.

City of Lights (Girl of the Nights)

Bopping on along the bleak, dark street,
A little girl kicks caution away with her feet.
She does her thing, that girl of the nights,
Twitching her back and shaking her guns,
In, what runs, what goes on in the city of lights.
Who knows what the city for her holds or shuns
From time to time, as she works from dime to dime,
For cackling devils echo around every corner.
Despite this being her territory,
She is always a foreigner,
She, the girl of the nights,
She, the girl of the city of lights.
With every car and with every bar,
In each hotel, the girl of the nights will inevitably sell.
She is a hot commodity with her banging hot body,
And thus, there is never a time for her to sleep.
There is only time for money and providing
Her with the sublime and unholy toleration without weeping.
There is little time for concern.
And so it is, and thus it is,
For the lamp never dims for the girl of the nights,
Whom never sleeps during the eternal days
Of the city of lights.

If Florida Was a Woman

If Florida was a woman,
I'd be the hottest man on Earth.
Never do I look forward to a good sweat
As I do when her shooting rays
Attack my fleshy armaments
Which safely harbor all that is vital to me.

Yesterday, I dropped to her sandy floors
And indulged myself in some of
Nature's finest crystal granules,
And I rolled around in it like an alligator,
Florida's native son, would do,
Doing only what a true glutton should.
Oh, I was so hot while I was doing that.
She must have felt every drop of sweat
From my raging hot body.
En fuego, bebe.

She must have, for I've never been with a woman
Who was so wet, so moist in her most vital areas.
I was only too happy to dive head-first
Into her womb, this bed of life.
All the little fishies swimming;
It was almost sinful even for me to be
Exposed to this sort of thing.
Her palms, clammy with perspiration,
Shone bright and green.
I wonder if she's as jealous of me as I be of her,
For I only have one lover,
While she has millions.

Let me be a sea gull!
Let me be a sea gull!
Leave me be!
Leave me be!

I never want to leave Florida,
And she doesn't want me to go.

If Florida was a woman,
I'd never leave,
But I'd always come.

If Not for You

If not for you, then what would be for whom?
You've got me under a deep, dark spell,
Like with a broom,
And life would simply be hell
If not for you.

If not for you, darling love,
The great sun would never see my smile.
I'd never have a reason to look to the angels above,
And life would just be one horrendously long mile,
A long damn mile,
If not for you.

If not for you, sweety pie,
With whom, then, would I fall in love?
For whom, then, would I for then cry?
Who would I then proclaim as my angel dove?
Life would simply not be worth living
If not for you.

When I Laid My Eyes Upon You

Never have these eyes cast their glare
Upon a sight so sweet,
Or, for that matter, more beauteous
As that which I've found in you.
Your smile, though not gigantic,
Though not too distant,
Is every bit as warm and brighter
Than the celestial sun
Which lives ninety-three million miles away.
When I laid my eyes upon you,
I knew I was in love with you.
God allows us to be born
In order to find our true loves.
I found my lease in life
When I laid my eyes upon you.

The Farther One Travels

The little boy became legally of age.
He had been under the tutelege of so many,
And now, he decided to break out on his own.
So quiet, so unassuming.
He felt that he needed to break out of his shell,
To broaden his horizons,
And so he became a world traveler. Jet setter.
What the little boy saw truly shocked him.
People eating other people and their own children.
Dire poverty, "dirt doggers,"
The most unbearable kind of filth
That is mass produced by the media.
He realized that he was, at that point, a man.

A wise man came to him in a dream
And explained to the sophomore
A grand piece of advice:
"The farther one travels,
The farther one really waves goodbye to home,
The less one really knows,
The less one really cares about his fellow man
And, most importantly, himself."

Pyro

Mama tried to tell me playing with matches ain't nice,
That lighting firecrackers is dangerous,
But fire really turns me on,
And it seems to be greater than sex.
With fire, I reach a spectacular climax,
Nevermind the statistics or the facts.
Well, here I am, striking up a match,
And all I can say is, "Burn, baby, burn."

And not to be confused with the rock band,
Burning things down is porno for this pyro,
Seizing the moment and giggling away the day,
So silly, so wily, feeling so happy and gay!
To me, there is never reason for a darkened room or sky,
For everything, there is a light line.
Things might not be lucid, but that's ok,
For the smoke in the air brings joy this way.

I have burned down a building.
There's debris everywhere.
I have set off fireworks.
It's like China in the sky.
This master of fire is finished with his dirty work,
And you get to clean up this mess today
While I, the pyro, live to play another day.
I'm out, the fire guy, the master of the flame.

Vegas

I'm worn out, tired, depressed,
Need time to decompress,
To just let out all those demons in the air.
I can only handle so much
Of the world dumping out all over my person.
I can't stand it here no more.
I gotta get away, gotta hit the road
Because I never did anything to deserve this.

Heading out to Vegas for some kicks,
For a time, a week, a month or two,
I might even stay a few years, perhaps.
I don't know, but I may never go back home.
I may become one with the garden gnome.
Watch some Wayne Newton, hit the casinos,
Hey! You never know, I might become rich.
Maybe that'll all take the weight away.

Bugsy was a genius ahead of his time
For he saw the fruits of his crime,
And though it lead to his demise,
He musta been a more modern Sigmund Freud.
He read my mind, I must say,
He read my mind beyond time and space.
He saw my mind, that it would be fried,
And he created Vegas. Thank Heaven Divine!

I'm in Vegas, thank Heaven divine!
I don't think I'll ever leave this land so fine.
I thank Bugsy for his crime,
His act which is making me do the time.
I'm cashing in, making myself poor,
Making it impossible to buy a whore,
But that's ok, nothing can make this day gray,
For I am here, here to stay.

Paths

In your dreams
And in my nightmares
We separate, uncermoniously,
Going down paths we dare not glance.
We cannot see our shadows,
But they are there.
Oh yes. They are there.
They are there and they're laughing,
Laughing at how we're such fools
For ignoring the obvious.
What is the obvious, you ask?
An undeniable force that at the very least I feel for you.
An undeniable force that is to say, true love.
Oh madamoiselle. Can't you see we're wasting time?
Can't you see we're wasting precious time?
There's only so much precious time.
Time is so precious....

Oh God....

Once upon a time, I thought I had the world.
You, a beautiful woman, by my side,
A bevy of passionate hugs and kisses flowing my way.
I never thought the time would come that I might lose you.
Oh God, say it hasn't happened.

It's been two years, too damn long
Since I've felt your long dark brown locks,
Your model face, chiseled to perfection,
Your ruby lips, moist and delicious with each kiss.
Oh God, you let this happen.

Things seemed to be going well until that faithful day,
Then everything changed. God spoke.
He acted and took my baby away from me.
I've been fateful, but I just don't understand.
Oh God, why did you let this happen?

I've been lost every since then, my darling,
In a place deep and dark and far away from what was.
I'm without a lantern to guide me through the wilderness.
I can only hope and pray the beasts leave me in peace.
Oh God, how could you let this happen?

Take Me Away

Take me away to a place where I can scatter,
And wash away all the burdens
Weighing on my heart.
Find me a place, an ocean or mountain,
Away from my address.
I want to go to a state, country,
Anyplace where I can convalesce.
Find me a plane, a boat, a car,
Or a spaceship to take me to a star:
There's so much to see and do,
And I need to getty up and go
Because there's so much I've been through.
I'm like a nosy cat;
I need to know what's going on in the world.
There's so much to do under the sun
That I crave a life on the run.
I need to cool off. I need to relax.
Take me away, please. I beg of you.
Take me away.

To My Dearest Victoria

To Victoria, with love

To yourself, always be true,
Be true through the clear times and the blue.
Always be a cheerful little doll,
Throughout your growth from small to tall.
Never, ever fear to shed tears,
For they keep from your soul that which sears.
Let love always be your guide,
For you are always a source of God's great pride.
Choose your friends as you would choose fine wine:
With class, esteem, with a sense of refine.
All days are not always sweet as rum,
So be patient, and learn to deal with those some.
My dearest Victoria, this is for you.
Just remember that I was once young, too.
Keep your chin high all of the time,
And in the end, everything will be sublime.

Five Glorious Days in Florida

Like a flock flying South for the winter,
I flee to the warm, golden coasts of Florida
For some good times, relaxing times.
The spirit of conquistadors past blends
With my dreamy present,
And I smile as I take another sip
Of my martini:

Florida oranges. Fresh Florida oranges.
Such a delicious sprinkle for my delicious drink.

Five days ... five glorious days I'll be...
I'll be in the land of the palmettos,
A land where 'gators and crocs roam...
A place where bikini-clad babes run amuck
With and around their male tormentors...
I could be one of those this week!

Burden of Love

When I first saw those diamond eyes,
I knew our love was true.
When I first saw your glowing face,
It sparked a passion inside,
And I felt the burden of love
Falling rapidly upon me.

When we first approached and held hands,
I saw our spirits rise,
And when we leaned and stood and delivered,
The threshold of pain doped me blithe,
And I felt the burden of love
Falling rapidly upon me.

She was God's gift to me;
That was plain to see.
We're together now;
Joined together, forged as one,
And I felt the burden of love
Falling rapidly upon me,
And I feel the burden of love,
And it's a cascade of feelings for you.

Amazing Grace

Amazing Grace,
So simple and sweet
In appearence.
She lives vicariously
As if she were a dancer.
I know not a more delicate sight.

Amazing Grace,
So luminuous and sound,
The brightest star in the night sky,
Showering your incandescence
Down upon me this evening, now and forever,
Your eyes a plethora of life's beautiful colors.

Amazing Grace,
I dance with you now,
Holding tight to your right hand as you twirl
During our minuet down by the river.
We're just two lovers living vicariously.

Proverbially Jocund

We're just two kids getting along,
So young, so vibrant and innocent.
We're just like free birds
Up high in the forest trees,
Chasing each other, playing tag,
Being the proverbial jocund.
A famous singer once sang
That it seemed to him a crime
That we should age.
It's so hard to fathom our own mortality
At our age, that of the proverbially jocund,
But alas, even we must be reined in
By the truth, sacrificing our luminosity.
I suppose it is best to shine longest
As opposed to being a shooting star,
But I will always look back fondly
At the age when we were free spirits.

Paper Prayer

One year, two years, three years, four,
How long it has lasted
With the evil spirit having molded it,
Incubi leaving their indelible marks on my psyche.
I am continually tortured by the art of living,
And living is an art just as dying is one.
I beseech you, oh Mighty Sculpter, in this paper prayer
To end my seemingly perpetual pains
By any means necessary,
And yes, I do mean "by any means."
At this point, death would even be glorious.
If you hear me, please answer my paper prayer.

Las Vegas

I walked down a steep valley
In order to get to the city
That was at the bottom of the hill:
A city where spices and mur
Do tally into the average
Vegasite's opinion of the
Other's person:
The prostitution,
The noise pollution,
The screeching sounds of Tom Jones
And Wayne Newton vocalizing to
Over-the-hill old women that are,
In all probability, retired prostitutes.
But then, after viewing and listening
To all the raucous activities,
I wiped my eyes and dug the sand from my ears.
Something compelled me to leave Las Vegas
Before the day of reckoning occurs.

Little Diamond

So talent laden is this girl,
Making her mama proud.
She leaves it all out on the floor,
And after it's done,
All the sacrifice and hard work
Shows in sweat,
And so there is love in this little girl.
"Little diamond," her mama calls her,
Dancing her life away,
And yet, she has one thing that will last forever.
With every stretch,
With every pirouette,
She captivates her audience.
Tears are shed by her mama
As the crowd erupts.
She stands and proclaims, "That's Mama's dancer!"
"Little diamond" sparkles true.

Magical Island

After a long struggle,
My pa slipped into the eternal sleep,
Into a land of sweet perpetual dreams.
He used to say that Elvis, John Lennon, Jim Morrison-
They all came here to dream.
Yet, this is a paradise of what you make of it,
A castle, warm beaches, dotted with palm trees -
It was all up to me.
To him, however, everything pleasant
Ventured to this magical island,
Where dead presidents also come to reside,
And that's fine by me.
I have something to look forward to
When my time comes to be reunited with Pa.

Laura

It's time to build you a boat
And sail on out to sea.
There isn't anything here but more baggage;
You'll eventually have to jettison or flee.
Laura, my sister, board your boat
And set sail for the sea.
Just flee from all of your troubles
And hold all your faith in God.

Sometimes, it's difficult to discern
Where the blue sky meets the sea.
But I know, here on land,
The troubles will make you bleed.
Laura, my sister, board your boat
And set sail for the sea,
And on to the sunset,
To the soul's wholesome delight.

Laura, my sister, board your boat
And set sail for the sea,
You can live the enchanted life,
So heed the call and sail onto the stars.

The Path to Shangri-la (written in September, 2000, my first ever poem)

We each are born with our lives ahead of us,
Something inherent in one and all.
We each take different paths,
And sometimes those paths collide.
In the beginning we are born, forced to begin on legs of four,
Clueless, yes, ever so clueless,
As to the path to Shangri-la.

We each are born with our lives ahead of us,
Something inherent in one and all.
We each take different paths,
And sometimes those paths collide.
In the beginning we are born, forced to begin on legs of four,
Then, in the middle, we graduate to two.
Yet still, we remain clueless,
Yes, ever so clueless,
As to the path to Shangri-la.

We each are born with our lives ahead of us,
Something inherent in one and all.
And sometime those paths collide.
In the beginning we are born, forced to begin on legs of four.
In the middle we graduate to two.
Yet by the time we are old, we are forced back to three,
And still remain clueless,
Yes, ever so clueless,
As to the path to Shangri-la.

But Shangri-La is not unattainable.
I will let you in on a little clue:
Somewhere along the path to Shangri-la,
The path where collisions do occur,
Is the unlocking of life's greatest mystery,
Is the fulfillment of your life:
The arrival at that special place known as Shangri-la.

America the Free

Their Lives: they held their country's trust; they kept its faith; they died its heroes.
-Quote from the University of Nebraska's Memorial Stadium

America, The Free:
"My country 'tis of thee...,"
Haven of hope,
Where thousands everyday cope
Through all times, thick and thin,
And where the defenders of truth inevitably win.
This is America,
Home to those from the Florida peninsula
To the great white north of Alaska
And all the way out to Hawaii....
This is home to me.
The habitat of the wild evergreens in Maine
And amber waves of Indiana grain...
Yes, this is my home.
From the majestically lit glass behemoths of the New York sky,
Down tobacco road, North Carolina, where dreamers dared fly,
I'm at home.
Be that I sail down the Delaware to Philadelphia,
Where freedom rings,
Or down the Mississippi to N'awluns for some jambalaya
And where a happy fat man sings,
It's still home sweet home.
Whether it's living the California rockin' life,
Or seeing the simplicity of an Ohio Amish man and wife, it's all home.
Regardless of whether I'm in the Volunteer State of Tennessee,
Or in Virginia, home of Washington, Jefferson, and Lee,
I'm home here in America, the free:
Land of truth and the foresight to see that we're all together
Through the thick and through the thin,
And where no force of evil shall have the ability upon it to deter,
For we shall fight; for we shall win.

A Love Poem for Sue

One day, I sat under a tree
Pondering what Newton might, in fact.
I was writing when an apple fell on me;
I was lucky my skull wasn't cracked.
Into my mind came thoughts about you,
Ideas which warm the senses, you know.
If salacious thoughts were banned, I'd be on death row,
For I'm writing on how we'll celebrate our love, Sue.

This here is a love poem for you, dear Sue.
It may be ragged, but it speaks so true,
For within you my trust rests in peace.
Sue, I don't think our love will ever cease.

I wrote about two virgins stranded on a desert island,
Without any education or a vocation,
And these lovers went for a roll in the sand,
So much action until they were done.
I wrote that they were me and you, Sue, my love,
Methaphorically speaking, that is, I insist.
We're just blind lovers from the clouds way above
Who shall always continue our tryst.

Our Love Song

They call me a master with words,
But it's all really a hobby.
After all, with such a world of wonders,
It's so easy to fill a paper with song.
I look into your big blue eyes,
And I then know of the most beautiful thing of all,
And thus, I decide to write our love song.

You say, "Hey, you don't have to do that,
For we have one already, darling.
It's that ballad we heard while making love that day."
But I'm a songwriter, and that simply does you no justice.
You deserve so much better than you've ever heard.
I'm going to give you more by writing you our love song.

Sweet harps glissando splendidly in arpeggio form.
The drummer slowly taps a slow, seductive beat.
A cool guitar makes for a clear summer's breeze,
And my piano bangs away the keys for the sultry mood.
All put together, I sing to you our love song.
I should only have such an honor, my lady.

Darling, I now ask you to marry me,
To spend the rest of your life by my side,
And at the wedding, I shall play you our love song.
From there, we shall dance, we shall never be torn apart.
We shall be together, letting our spirits fly.