Tag Archives: Music

21st Century Music

There once was a popular band

Whose singer was pretty but bland.

The sales started to fall

Until for one and all

She showed off a mammary gland.

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And Who’s This Floyd Guy Anyway?

We could talk about the ego,

Super-ego, or the id

But I don’t think that does justice

To the amazing things Freud did.

Anyone can acknowledge

That people’s brains are weird,

Have a couch to lie on,

Or grow a snazzy beard,

But how many psychiatrists

Can also play guitar

Like Dr. Sigmund “Pink” Freud did?

That guy was quite a star!

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Aria for Happy Fools and Background Noise

Our lives are like a song

In a language we don’t know.

Our feet tap to the beat of the world

When we feel that special flow.

It starts out as a whisper

And builds into the cry

Of a baby with the will to sing

But no knowledge how or why.

It may turn many corners.

It changes every verse.

The song always gets better

Even if it may sound worse.

Some songs will stop too suddenly

And some go on too long.

Since we don’t know what we’re singing

Why care if something’s wrong?

You can sing however’s comfortable.

When all is said and sung

I hope I’m singing nonsense

‘Til I get my iron lung!

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We Won’t Even Go Into The “Mom’s A Virgin” Thing

One of the beloved songs

Is titled “Silent Night,”

Of story of a night where all

Is calm and all is bright.

With the writer of the song

I want to have a chat.

A silent night where all is bright?

What kind of night is that?

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I Need To Change My Pre-Writing Playlist!

I wrote a poem about breaking up

Though I’m happily single.

I wrote a poem about parties

Though I seldom even mingle.

I wrote one about prison

Though I’m offended by “darn.”

I write one about dead soldiers

Though I’m home, both safe and warm.

Each one I halfway finished

Then deleted with a click

Because my life is so darn easy

I’d come off looking like a dick.

Sorry for the language.

I guess I got unhinged.

No more poetry for me

After a punk-rock Youtube binge!

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Night Shift (Every Walmart Ever)

Sleepwalking,

Night stalking…

Insomnia is killing me.

Dead of night,

I feel no fright.

Just a few more hours ’til I’m free.

With empty hearts

And bulging carts

They leave my shelves so very bare.

Their hands are deep

In all that’s cheap.

At these poor beasts I stare.

All these hours

Living in a haze

Just a few more days

On the night shift.

I waste my life

Repeating strife,

Putting boxes back on the shelves.

My peers and I

Just want to cry,

Go home and be all by ourselves.

I ain’t got paid,

But I’ve quit and stayed.

Oh! How that paycheck calls…

I say I’ll walk,

But it’s all talk.

I haven’t got the balls.

All these hours

Hoping its a phase.

Counting down the days

On the night shift.

Then in an instant

I hear the TV:

“Todays winning numbers are

“7, 6, 5, 4, 3.”

Thirty-eight million dollars

Are mine! All mine! Then…

My boss yells “you’re fired

“If you doze off again.”

All these hours

And finally an excuse…

No need for such abuse…

Time to take another snooze…

On the night shift.

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Filed under Lyrics, Poems

“Santiago Must Die”

They said I could do anything

If I put my heart into it

But after 17 years in a mariachi metal band

A part of me says “screw it.”

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