Please enjoy the Pix & Prose.


Played them like a...

Hydra


A lyric for a 2012 Christmas song

December 27th
(Johnny Blue)

Table cloths and napkins
Once pristine
Now rumpled bundles of stains to clean

Bright ribboned boxes
Which held surprise
Lie crushed and torn before our eyes

Well intentioned learning toys
discarded by the girls and boys

Turkey gravy fish and ham
fight for the shelf space in leftover land

Jingle bells and other cheer
Banished For another year

Detinseled trees
Hit the sidewalk fast
The ghosts of recent Christmas past.








This came to me today. Why or from where (as usual) I don’t know.
Feel free to adopt it. Hopefully I wont need it for a while.


Epitaph:

No plot for a marble slab to grace.
No euphemistic “resting place”
No oblong patch with box below
No place compelling tears to flow.
Reduce this corporal shell of mine,
to smoke and ash and dust so fine
it can be carried on a gentle breeze,
to settle where the wind may please.
Those who feel the need for prayer,
can exercise it anywhere.
For I’ll be in the light of dawn,
and each sunset that you gaze upon.










 

The Kings of Avarice


By Johnny Blue

The man who would be king
Sees the coming prize
Yet never thinks to view the kingdom
Through the peasants’ eyes

He builds his castle turrets high
His avarice is unbound
He rewards himself each day his castles
Don’t come tumbling down

All the market kings
Play their daily game
Millions may be hurt
And yet nobody takes the blame

They built the towers high
On the backs of those below
And all the kings’ men spoke in tongues
That the peasants did not know

The kings of avarice
Would party every day
Knowing when the bill came
None of them would pay

They built the towers high
Knowing they were unsound
Yet the headmen heaped rewards on them
As the walls came tumbling down

The peasants gathered in the streets
Beneath the castle walls
But the kings of avarice refused
To hear the peasant calls

There came a shout for heads to roll
The kings laughed at the peasant scene
For the kings decide who has control of
Madame Guillotine

Everyday the peasants ask
Who will bring us justice?
The headmen shirk the task
They have been bought by
The Kings of Avarice.

Below are rhymes that don't have a musical accompaniment.
If you would like to fit them to music get in touch and we'll work it out.
Having the lyric first is not unheard of, it worked for Elton and Bernie.
            
            
   

Did Shakespeare use pot?
Michael Kesterton
From the Globe and Mail

The Dude of Avon?
“A South African anthropologist has asked permission to open the graves of William Shakespeare and his family to determine, among other things, what killed the Bard and whether his poems and plays may have been composed under the influence of marijuana,” says LiveScience.

Grave photograph by David Jones from flicker






Mandisa yells out "Crazy Bed-Head Daddy" And a show is born.


This may be good as a graphic novel

Mizaree and Ace


She was a girl called Mizaree

but Mizaree didn’t like company

despite what other people say

that was just her way

Mizaree didn’t like company

 

He was a boy called Ace

who never had one in the hole

whatever he had he stole

Seldom diamonds mostly coal

A little like his soul,

a little clubbed and cold

 

There never was a sign

that said this town’s called “Hell”

that was just the way it felt

maybe not how it was spelt

But a rose by any other name will still have thorns.

 

The first time they crossed paths

was in a bar called “The Purple Orange”

nuff said.

 

Mizaree had heard of love.

Although she never knew romance

Ace never stood a chance

It was love at each first glance

lady luck had finally dealt him a winning hand 

 

They say that lives can change in the twinkle of an eye

He was a loser who loved gambling

larceny and philandering

He could turn his hand to anything

except an honest days work

 

It was a part of life they’d never known

Mizaree loved his company

They say the good Lord moves mysteriously

and Ace realised that finally

he would have to change his ways

 

They agreed the time was right

that they should make a brand new start

abandon hell and its hand cart

it was time to play it smart

and arrow straight

 

She sat looking from the window

of the last train out that night

with Ace nowhere in sight

and the clock; if it was right 

gave him ten minutes

 

He came running around the corner

without a minute more to spare

a fist of green-backs in the air

and a smile from here to there 

that made her heart leap

 

But her heart was stopped mid-leap

as Ace jumped for the door

three little pops no more

she heard them like a cannon roar

as Ace fell to the track

 

The train began to pull away

slo-mo at first then getting faster

unaware of the disaster 

she watched her old life slipping past her

and her new life fall apart

 

The train chugged on its way

leaving her lover on the track

she saw enough of the attack

to see no point in going back

she walked with a heavy heart to the last carriage

 

There was a bridge at “Three Mile Gorge”

she had been there once before

she would go there just once more

she stepped through the carriage door

into the night

 

The wheels clattered on the rails 

the wind went whipping past

the train was moving fast

as she prepared to breath her last

something caught her eye  

 

It was tucked in to the panel

on the platform just below her

a card that he would often show her

in the hope that she would know her place in his.

She stepped down and lifted up the ace of hearts

 

The card felt electric in her hand

As she pressed it to her breast

She wiped her tear stained face

and vowed she’d always carry Ace

inside her heart.

©