I'm certain that it was an incredible gift for me to not only be friends with some of the greatest blues people who've ever lived, but to learn how they played, how they sang, how they lived their lives, ran their marriages, and talked to their kids.
quote by Bonnie Raitt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leftys Gone
A jukebox introduced us when the 60s was still young, if you got the money
Honey got my nickels one by one, I tried to imatate that song, its not right
But leftys gone, and always late breaks my heart and every song he sang i
Played the part, I heard he was sad and lived alone, its not right but leftys
Gone, he played the fair in dallas one year in the cold october rain, some
Folks stayed home in one but he sang just the same, I caught a chill before i
Got home, its not right but leftys gone, I heard he was sad and lived alone,
Its not right but leftys gone, it dont seem like he was around that long,
Its not right but leftys gone.
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Uncommon Reality
I never lived in your world.
I never knew what it was like.
I have no real conception, of what normality is?
I never had to take drugs to escape.
I already lived in a world of my own.
I never aimed for or earnestly sort the high life.
I lived an artistic life, of the mind of the soul,
forever separating my life, from the common life.
From the common man and the common clay.
Everything was so sharp and clearly in focus.
Everywhere I saw and heard and knew too much.
I lived upon a heightened vibration rate
an awareness; as incredibly focused intensity.
I lived with such dynamic, personal passion,
I did not know; what it was like; to be passionless.
I knew that some people lived husks of life
but I; did not fully know; what it was to be a husk.
I always had somewhere beneath adversity
which afflicted me; the redemption; of artistic insight.
I guess this explains why husks gather,
so many possessions, to prop up their lives.
Husks are so empty, they often get blown away,
by the soulless wind, generating materialistic values.
I bequeath
a sacred gift
to enhance
enrich such lives.
Come live within
spirit of creativity
one spirit almighty
our divine creator.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Gift
Written by mark davis & marti sharron
Every captain must steer the wheel, not by choice but from the voice
Thats in his ear, I have lived long and Ive done much wrong
But Ive survived through my lies, Im still here, so all you people
Know what I say is true, that Im here because of you, I have lived on
Yes Ive made it through, youve returned your love to me
Well I felt fire and I got tired of running from the truth
And I let people down, and I wore a crown of being the biggest fool
So all you people know what I say is true, that Im here because of you
I have lived on, yes Ive made it through, youve returned your love to me
There were times I had enough, I almost gave it up
But you reached out your heart to me, look what youve done now
Ive become the best, oh, Im the best I can be, oh, oh, oh
Youve returned your love, the gift of love, yes, you gave this gift to me
song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sent the Same Gift
They all were sent the same gift.
Very few of them recognized it...
For what it was!
Since they were accustomed,
To entertain their limitations.
Some took the gift and respected it.
And they became lifted...
By the feeling they got from it.
And they knew it for what it was.
Becoming grateful it had been given!
Others dismissed it with disrespect.
And lived lives beset by conflicts and regret.
As the gift just sat.
Gleaming in the midst...
Of an environment rusting.
Surrounded,
By a distrusting and weakened people.
Taught they were...
To pray and receive on their knees.
And there they stayed,
Seeking!
As the gift observed this,
And laughed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I lived rough, by my wits, was homeless, lived on the streets, lived on friends' floors, was happy, was miserable.
In The Words Of Bluesman Jack
From bar to bar
I play my life story
to the crowd
I play for the people
I play for my sanity
I've played
for forty years on the road
with nothing but the blues
I've lived a full life
but a lonely life
The hearts I have taken
The hearts I have broken
It all comes together
in the blues songs of salvation
with the pain and the hate
of a world in despair
From bar to bar
I play my life story
to the crowd
I play them the blues
the blues of salvation
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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Bo-beh-o-bi Sang The Lips
Bo-beh-o-bi, sang the lips,
Veh-eh-o-mi, sang the glances,
Pi-eh-eh-o, sang the brows,
Li-eh-eh-ey, sang the visage,
Gzi-gzi-gzeh-o, sang the chain.
Thus on a canvas of some correspondences
Beyond dimension lived the face.
poem by Velimir Khlebnikov
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Dad needs to show an incredible amount of respect and humor and friendship toward his mate so the kids understand their parents are sexy, they're fun, they do things together, they're best friends. Kids learn by example. If I respect Mom, they're going to respect Mom.
The Blues
Hes gonna tell you bout his dear old mother
Burned up in a factory in springfield, mass.
Hes gonna tell you bout his baby brother
Hustlin down the city streets
And selling his ass for a dollar bag
Hes gonna tell you bout his uncle neddy
Locked up in a prison out in oregon
Hes gonna tell you bout his best friend eddie
Killed in a bar fight with a pair of marines
And a sailor
Oh
Hes got the blues, this boy
Hes got the blues
You can hear it in his music
Hes got the blues, this boy
Hes got the blues
You can hear it, you can hear it
When I was nine years old
My daddy ran away
With a woman he met on a train, oh
His little boy
Ran to the room
Where his piano
Lay in wait for him
He played and he played
He played and he played
Hes got the blues, this boy
Hes got the blues
You can hear it, you can hear it
Hes got the blues, this boy
Hes got the blues
A year ago, I met a girl
I thought wed hit a massive groove
But she dumped me
And all wed hit were the blues
Hes got the blues, this boy
Hes got the blues
You can hear it in his music
Hes got the blues, this boy
Hes really got the blues
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In His Eyes! And Ours
Times then were lived,
Within our means.
We valued being clean.
Respected as expected.
This is what everyone did without neglect.
And embraced hygiene!
This was a fact of life known and seen!
Sold on concepts of a desire to learn.
Wanting to comprehend lessons taught...
That broadened our lives with a competitiveness.
With a fear of limits ignorance welcomed.
And we then wished no part of this.
We sought to grow.
And this assisted with an identity dignity presented.
Times then were lived within our means.
To deceive...
Was then thought to be despicable.
To cheat and lie about it,
Did not excite or sit well...
With those who suffered through the consequences,
Of their ways that dismayed.
Today...
People talk the 'walk' but do not walk the talk.
People say they have good intentions.
But leave no evidence of it seen.
Today...
People talk about their standards and values.
As if this is held in an exclusiveness.
And a membership is required for this to be addressed.
Today...
People are obsessed with their possessions.
Their good credit scores and loans they can obtain.
Because they have maintained status given,
Although they keep blemishes hidden...
That may reveal their tainted names.
And they cheat.
Lie.
And deceive!
With lifestyles lived well above their means.
And yet,
When suspected...
Nothing about them is respected.
Nor do the judgements they pass on others...
Keep tax collectors from locking them out,
From foreclosed homes they bragged about.
OR...
Do they 'today' have the means to feed, protect
Or shelter themselves,
In peace.
Times we lived then,
Were lived within our means.
And we were taught to be grateful.
To feel we were blessed.
And we should express this to God.
On a daily basis kept routined!
Like promises we made to ensure we had good hygiene.
And then God...
And only God,
Will make sure our lives lived were lived right!
In His eyes!
And ours.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Those 'Kids' We Knew To Grow
There is nothing like,
Living our lives...
Through the eyes,
Of our own 'grown' children.
And there is nothing like,
An acceptance that eventually comes.
When the realization 'arrives'...
That our own lives have not been lived.
And those 'kids' we knew to grow,
Now have children of their own.
With wish,
That their grandparents would stay home...
To take care of them!
And...
Not be found partying around town,
With 'kids' more than half their age!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Weekend Blues Session
Three days and three nights
playing the guitar blues of life
my mind and body taken back
I can see
the old streets and the seats
where the blues players of old
used to meet
They'd sing of the pain
and the hate
and we'd respect what they
had to say
All these memories coming back
as we played for the times
when blues was our life
We played for the joy
we played for our minds
we played for our souls
we played until the monday morning blues
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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Blues In Minor Key
'Twas a lovely night in gay Paree
The stagelight was beating on him and me
He took my heart and spoke so well
And told me things no one else could tell
But far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key
He was a lonely tramp in the world of rhyme
With words that caught me just in time
I gave him my body I gave him my soul
In front of the stage I played my role
But far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key
The chimes of freedom rang that night
And stars in heaven were shining bright
The songs he sang were like ice and fire
Leading me through the bush and brier
But far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key
Behind his mask and behind his name
He left the stage with nothin' to claim
Like a shooting star in the empty skies
Our love was done without any ties
And far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key
And far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key....
Copyright © 2011 Göran Gustafsson. All rights reserved
poem by Göran Gustafsson
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Breathing Space Will Suffer
Friends remain as friends
As they haven't lived together.
Lovers remain as lovers
Since they haven't lived together.
The couple lives together.
Togetherness cuts the space
For freedom of movements
Of the couple under the roof
And hence suffocation.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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To Stay The Best Of Kids
I have played with my children the same way,
On a daily basis.
Everyday.
And...
For most of their lives I have been in sight.
So do not try to reprimand me,
About my inability to be a good parent.
I raised my kids the best I could,
To be good children and nothing more.
'And...
Who played the role of the adult?
While you and your children played,
To stay the best of kids,
Most of your lives? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Which Life Do You Live?
Most people are so unaccustomed to speak the truth.
For many of them...
This is all they know.
A tradition of sorts.
Passed through the family,
As common as gas is passed.
With each scent identified by the doer.
~Women 'poot' they do not fart! ~
Well...
I knew a few women who 'stank'!
And it didn't matter who 'pooted' or farted.
Or if that even made the difference.
For those of them who are like that!
~Focus.
Stay focused, please.~
And,
If they began to become forthright and honest...
Most people would lose their friends.
Jeopardizing relationships of all kinds.
And many of them would end.
~Like marriages?
Perhaps? ~
While others would lose complete identities.
Since those lives lived have been totally prefabricated.
~Why are you staring at me?
Which life do you live? ~
My own!
And without references.
Preferences, yes!
But...
Without references!
~Why are you staring at me? ~
'Cause you all up in my 'grill'
Like you belong in it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No Limitation
From the day we met, somehow we knew
no other hearts could be so true,
capturing feelings from deep within
in church we sang a wedding hymn.
Being older, we were wise,
love's bliss brought magic to our eyes
we lived our lives ~ a romantic story
devotion never lost its glory.
'No limitation' to happy hours
we walked and talked amid the flowers
greeting nature at it best...
we fell in love at God's behest.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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I have lived
I have lived through being
Neruda's mermaid, feeling
Every cigarette burn.
I have lived through being
The African Princess,
Where the Prince turned
Back into a Lion.
I have lived through being
A ballerina, dancing gracefully
Upon the stage.
I have lived through trying
To be a poet, but frosted
Out not knowing rules.
I have travelled places
So beautiful, I still go
Back for more, no fool.
But best of all, I can say
I have lived,
Because of you.
poem by Harriet James
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Never Burn a Bridge That Has Been Easily Given
You've lost your job and home,
The respect of your spouse...
And now your kids roam,
All over the place with hoodlums.
Since they wish not to be alone.
And I am quite surprised you've come to me.
I've lived for years on a fixed income.
And my life is lived basic and happily.
You told me once I had a life you could not live.
So glad I am blessed to have it...
And sorry to learn your life is the way it is.
I am sure there will be many lessons,
You will come to learn.
There was one you taught me yourself.
Never burn a bridge that has been easily given.
Especially one you did not earn.
And constructed just for you to cross.
Since one never knows,
When the desire to cross it again will be yearned.
But a connection has been lost.
'That's a lesson I taught to you?
I don't recall saying that.'
You don't have to!
It was my lesson.
And you were there like you are right now,
To keep it fresh as if just taught.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Poor Boy Blues
My daddy said
Son, dont you come to me cryin
Cause money dont make you a happy man
He said the grass is always greener
Any place except where you stand
He said some are born to win
And some born to lose
And sing them poor boy blues
Watch out
Ive lived uptown, downtown
Lord Ive lived everywhere
Almost drowned in the puddle of my own sweat I swear
I believe its due time I get my mansion in ole bel air
Chorus:
But Im still singin those poor boy blues
Poor boy blues
You dont know how Im feeling baby
Until youre wearing my shoes
Sure as Im standing here
I got them poor boy blues
Friday night I get tanked up
And tossed in the local slam
At least I get three square meals
Until someone gets me out of this jam
In the meanwhile all my green
Is going to uncle sam
Chorus:
Walk this dog
Solo
Chorus
song performed by by Poison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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