Black Caskets
abandoned boxcars,
shanty towns, and tents...
tumbleweed blown across the land.
day work, no work,
cigarettes, roll your own,
keep a fire under the pot!
old cars rusting,
just left by the road...
women and babies bathing
in service station sinks.
desperate hunger,
knock down the clerk,
grab the cash and run...
while ghostlike cities moan
and groan in the sun....
smokestacks still write epitaphs,
black caskets in a line!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Empty Boxes
woke up to Voltaire
and Tolstoy, black coffee,
and cigarettes....
heavy fog on a crooked road,
Christmas lights blinking,
and a dead stillness....
the moan of empty houses,
empty factories, empty streets,
and the whisper of children,
food stamps hung in their stockings!
an old stray cat waiting to be fed,
and the heaviness of the mongrels,
left to work the streets.
somewhere bells are ringing,
right here not the scent;
a cross painted on a brick wall,
empty boxes blown by the wind!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Old Shanty Town
With the heat of the sun,
As it fiercely beats down,
There's no shade to be won,
In this old Shanty Town.
The rough row of shacks,
To be seen up and down,
Are riddled with cracks,
In this old Shanty town.
The winds, blowing hard,
Send the tumbleweed down,
To take over a graveyard,
In this old Shanty Town.
And weird echoes resound,
Through doors broken down,
And no welcome is found,
In this old Shanty Town.
Once a horse and its rider,
Came sauntering down,
In the hope of cool cider,
In this old Shanty Town.
That's when there were folk,
Who walked up and down,
And slept and awoke,
In this old Shanty Town.
But these times have flown,
And it's drab and rundown,
And one's all on one's own,
In this old Shanty Town.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Four Letter 'Work' Song
Work me up, work me out, work me flip side down.
Work me here, work me there, work me with renown.
Work me hot, work me greedy,
work me through and through.
Work me to the very marrow,
work me just like I'd work you.
Work me proud, work me late,
work me do not hesitate.
Won't you let me work for you?
Work me til I'm black and blue.
Work me steady, work me needy, work me to a lather.
Work me til my backbone breaks, and the buzzards gather.
Work me in, work me under, work me til I bleed,
Work me over red hot coals, work me like a boss in need.
Work me nasty, work me silly, work me through the clover.
Up down, 'n' in between, into a slipknot sweet Jehovah.
Work me, work me, go ahead.
Work me, work me, til I'm dead.
Buddy Bee Anthony
poem by Buddy Bee Anthony
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Take The Stone and Throw! Are You Ready?
Abandoned, battered and alone,
A few small mouths and old relations,
She owns nothing, not even her respect,
She has a spring that can be sold,
Day and night, the buyers are ready,
No need advertisement, the dogs can smell,
The most abused helpless profession,
Where the commodity is repeatedly auctioned,
Not the baby chasers at home,
Chase these babies of their neighbors,
When men are useless and helpless,
Women resort to prostitution.
When men are spineless and voiceless,
Women work as prostitutes.
When men are ignorant and violent,
Women are forced to be prostitutes,
When men fail to work with their brains,
Women lift their skirts for public display.
Prostitutes were everywhere in Europe and America,
Even in Japan when they were poor and destitute.
Prostitute are there in Singapore in Holland,
Where this profession is legal,
Prostitution in Indian cities,
Is not bloomed out of prosperity,
It is the deepen wound of poverty.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Highway Junkie
Album: Black Dog (Original Soundtrack) [MCA] 1998
Track 4
A hundred cups of coffee,
Five hundred cigarettes
A thousand miles of highway
And I ain't forgot her yet
But I keep on movin',
I keep movin' down the line
There ain't nothin' in my mirror
Just a cloud of dust and smoke
What do you expect
When some ole trucker's heart gets broke
Yeah, a trucker's heart gets broke
But them big wheels of rubber
Gonna rub her off my mind
Well I'm a highway junkie
And I need that old white line
Ten miles outta' Nashville
I was doin' a hundred and one
State boy pulled me over
He said Where's the fire son?
Said Where's the fire son?
I said man there ain't no fire
I'm just runnin' from a flame
So go on an write your ticket, man,
But I aint the one to blame
That county judge tried to rob me blind
But them big wheels of rubber
Gonna rub her off my mind
Well I'm a highway junkie
And I need that old white line
--- Instrumental ---
So I rolled on down to Memphis,
I had nothin' left to loose
Wanted to hear some rock n' roll
But all they played was blues
I didn't wanna hear no blues
So I went to call up Elvis
But Roger Miller grabbed the phone
He said drive that eighteen wheeler boy
You're the king of the road
Said I was the king of the road
But them big wheels of rubber
Gonna rub her off my mind
Well I'm a highway junkie
And I need that old white line
I said I'm a highway junkie, man,
And I need that old white line...
song performed by by Gary Allan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Redemption, Revival, Or Epitaphs
rain swept morning...
and all the sins of yesterday
roll down the face of humanity.
redemption, or revival?
the hand finds the heart,
the eyes see the soul,
fear washes away unnamed.
cities built of shadows,
great smokestacks, vacant shrines.
and it's always the voices,
and the faces, struggling,
to be heard and seen!
man imprisoned himself by nations,
sold too cheaply on the block.
murders his mother beneath the wheels,
never hearing her cry.
sacrificing the children
to feed the inner beast.
now we stand naked in the rain...
redemption, revival, or epitaphs,
left by the children's graves!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Rock n Roll Cities
Rock n roll cities, look out here we come
From buffalo to the gulf of mexico
Rock n roll cities, look out for our bus
Does anybody know the way to idaho?
Well its good to be back
Had some trouble on the way
I never thought wed get here
But we made it just the same
The flight over was real rough
So could you lead me to a beer
I see the pretty girls getting younger
Every year
Rock n roll cities, look out here we come
From new york state to the gulf of mexico
Rock n roll cities, look out for our bus
Does anybody know the way to idaho?
Wcvr konk, wsos, are we still on that playlist?
Well, its anybodys guess
But what does it matter when youre out on the town
Rock n roll cities, with a pizza to go
Rock n roll cities, philadelphia p.a.
I got my radio
Promo for mtv
Whats next on the itinerary? can anybody tell?
Whats the hotel like? is there cable t.v. as well?
Get up with a headache, fall asleep on the plane
And we get there, start all over again
Rock n roll cities, look out were coming through
Kansas city, fresno, san diego
Rock n roll cities, look out here we come
Richmond, cleveland, ohio, nebraska, st. paul
Rock n roll cities, look out here we come
From buffalo to the gulf of mexico
Rock n roll cities, watch out for our bus
Does anybody know the way to idaho?
Flight 62 now leaving for memphis stopping at boston
Washington d.c. with continuing service to los angeles
Seattle, portland... etc...
Rock n roll cities, look out here we come
90 miles on highway 61
Rock n roll ladies, watch out here we come
Does anybody know the way to madison?
Rock n roll cities look out here we come
Rock n roll cities
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Payment
A tortuous path of neurons arced a call: ‘Awake! ’
I did; in rising, peering, stretching, bearing,
Pained anticipation saw it all:
Foretold, another filthy day.
I drew the drape: diluvian lay the ground
Beneath a lazy leaden cloud – apissing out
The puddles; irksome on the roof –
The drumming drops of bitter glee
Were hounding out a hapless me –
Reinforcing doubt that I am sound.
I left the house
to go to work
to earn a crust
without a perk
then on to bust
another straining vessel.
Trudging on thro’ mud and clay, I pondered:
‘Why a drought of happy times?
Auspicious climes were
Old and fusty books
Atop a dusty shelf
Inside a morgue-of-a-room,
Somewhere in a long-forgotten library
Down a lane without a way.’
I thought again: ‘And still I pay.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
O how I
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Cool Black Women
What if BLACK WOMEN Were COOL
Could darken skin in shades like BLACK WOMEN
Maybe enlarge lips and hips the size of BLACK WOMEN
Might even speak in a venacular like BLACK WOMEN
Mimick some of the mannerisms of BLACK WOMEN
Mate and date Black Men, the counterparts of BLACK WOMEN
Adopt and raise Black Babies, like BLACK WOMEN do
poem by Royale ROYALE
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Just you wait...! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Knock, knock
Who’s there?
It’s me the breeze
Want to caress your cheeks.
Knock, knock
Who’s there?
It’s me the full moon, roll up the blinds
Want to flood you with my silver light.
Knock, knock
Who’s there?
It’s me the pigeon, want you to know
I understand what its like to feel low.
Knock, knock
I just listen to tick tick of the clock.
Swallow some bile.
Don’t answer for a while.
It was very very still.
Got up to take a pill.
Felt I was not alone.
Stopped to moan.
He stood with his kind eyes.
I smiled, Lord a real good try…
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Ballade Of The Dead Cities
The dust of Carthage and the dust
Of Babel on the desert wold,
The loves of Corinth, and the lust,
Orchomenos increased with gold;
The town of Jason, over-bold,
And Cherson, smitten in her prime -
What are they but a dream half-told?
Where are the cities of old time?
In towns that were a kingdom's trust,
In dim Atlantic forests' fold,
The marble wasteth to a crust,
The granite crumbles into mould;
O'er these--left nameless from of old -
As over Shinar's brick and slime,
One vast forgetfulness is roll'd -
Where are the cities of old time?
The lapse of ages, and the rust,
The fire, the frost, the waters cold,
Efface the evil and the just;
From Thebes, that Eriphyle sold,
To drown'd Caer-Is, whose sweet bells toll'd
Beneath the wave a dreamy chime
That echo'd from the mountain-hold, -
'Where are the cities of old time?'
ENVOY.
Prince, all thy towns and cities must
Decay as these, till all their crime,
And mirth, and wealth, and toil are thrust
Where are the cities of old time.
poem by Andrew Lang
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No man ever got very high by pulling other people down. The intelligent merchant does not knock his competitors. The sensible worker does not work those who work with him. Don't knock your friends. Don't knock your enemies. Don't knock yourself.
quote by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fight Back
fight back!
another store robbed,
broad daylight.
over the counter,
grab the money
from the register...
tries to run...
clerk hanging on,
another clerk joining in...
an elderly black woman trips
the suspect, another old man
jumps in to help....
had him down twice,
but he got away...
battered and bruised...
he'll think a while
before he comes back...
common everyday people
just trying to help....
an old car broke down
on the side of the road...
an elderly man standing there,
looking lost... two more old men
stop, and slowly but surely
push him down the road
to the nearest station....
common everyday people,
just trying to help....
the old couple evicted,
trying to load up what they can...
two sets of neighbors
come out and start helping,
borrow a truck, and start loading,
and scuff a few dollars
for gas and food....
common everyday people
just trying to help....
lay down your pipes,
your guns, turn off your tv's.
stop what you're doing...
fight back!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Highway Junkie
(chris knight/sam tate/annie tate)
A hundred cups of coffee, five hundred cigarettes
A thousand miles of highway and I aint forgot her yet
But I keep on moving, I keep moving down the line
There aint nothing in my mirror, just a cloud of dust and smoke
But what do you expect when some old truckers heart gets broke
Yeah, truckers hearts gets broke
But them big wheels of rubber are gonna rub her off my mind
Im a highway junkie, I need that old white line
Ten miles out of nashville, I was doing a hundred and one
State boy me over and he said, wheres the fire, son?
He said, wheres the fire son?
I said man, there aint no fire, Im just running from a flame
Go on and write your ticket, but I aint the one to blame
That county judge tried to rob me blind.
But them big wheels of rubber are gonna rub her off my mind
Im a highway junkie, I need that old white line
So I rolled on down to memphis
I had nothing left to lose
I wanted to hear some rock and roll, but all they played was blues
I didnt wanna hear no blues
So I went to call up elvis and roger miller grabbed the phone
He said drive that 18 wheeler, boy, youre the king of the road
Said I was the king of the road
But them big wheels of rubber are gonna rub her off my mind
Im a highway junkie, I need that old white line
But them big wheels of rubber are gonna rub her off my mind
Im a highway junkie, I need that old white line
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cars Are Cars
Words & music by paul simon 1983
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Similarly made. similarly sold
In a motorcade. abandoned when theyre old
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Engine in the front. jack in the back
Wheels take the brunt. pinion and a rack
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
But people are strangers
They change with the curve
From time zone to time zone
As we can observe
They shut down their borders
And think theyre immune
They stand on their differences
And shoot at the moon
But cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Drive em on the left. drive em on the right
Susceptible to theft in the middle of the night
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
I once had a car
That was more like a home
I lived in it, loved in it
Polished its chrome
If some of my homes
Had been more like my car
I probably wouldnt have
Travelled this far
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tumbleweed Chalet.
There it was
A parafin coloured shack
All locked up and black.
Hidden amongst the trees.
A sort of don`t you see me.
But the river gave it
A mild reflection
And the fishermen
Were half-dozing
In the midday sun.
It`s the son of
Tumbleweed chalet.
Just like the old days.
I dreamt i was
A cowboy
Leaning on it`s broadwalk
Further on i went
Into the weeds.
Half a dozen ghost towns`
Strangled and forgotten please.
By council demand-
This land is private!
My feet fell through
Fallen canvas ceilings,
That lay upon the floor.
It`s the son
Of a tumbleweed chalet,
And maybe i am the valet
Or the wild cat
That darts in and out.
Half a broken gate
Leads to another
Ruin innate.
Punctured mattresses,
Cracked glass,
Daubed walls,
Turned over tables.
By council demand-
This land is private
And overrun!
poem by Peter Vealey
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(Solitude poems) International women's day
I walk to their villages
And I see spread before my eyes
The terrible suffering of this women!
I walk amongst them in their rural towns
And I am confronted by the uncalled for
Total lack of services for this women!
I meet millions of them in the cities
And I'm saddened by their frightened stares
And the unjust exploitation of this women!
And you madam
You're so glib in your presentation
You make the same speech every year you
Trumpet the same lies of yesterday of...
Rural women are side lined by their leaders...
The women must be empowered...
Whatever happened to the propaganda of
Rolling back the frontiers of poverty?
Roll your sleeves or watch out you puppet
We will come down to your comfort
Zone and roll you out of your comfy position
Of privilege any time now
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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Lost in the Cycle
Work work work work, work work work work, work work work work
STOP
and
do
nothing
'cause there is nothing to do
even though there is always something to do
but why would you do that?
Stay up
No sleep
Go to sleep
Peace
Except not
Because the brain still says 'Go! '
When you say
'No!
Rest! '
No Rest
Come back to consciousness?
You never left,
did you?
Begin repeat
poem by Jessica Cummings
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Work, Sleep, Work, Sleep, Work
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work:
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work.
Oh free me please with gentle ease
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work!
This odium, pounding tedium
Of my work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
Just whisk me off to lands afar
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
That grinding train of rhythmic pain
Called ‘Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.’
Poor neural circuits fizzle and pop
In work, sleep, work, sleep, work,
In trying to make some sense of all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
But Hark! I see a golden gleam -
A saving spirit of hope:
‘You’re fired! ’ He screams. What news to bear,
This wondrous hangman’s rope!
So now I’m free, released from all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
Eternal peace and rest for me, no
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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God Gave Rock 'n' Roll To You
God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you
Put it in the soul of everyone
Do you know what you want? You don't know for sure
You don't feel right, you can't find a cure
And you're gettin' less than what you're lookin' for
You don't have money or a fancy car
And you're tired of wishin' on a falling star
You gotta put your faith in a loud guitar
Chorus:
God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you
Gave rock and roll to everyone (oh yeah)
God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you
Put it in the soul of everyone
"Now listen"
If you wanna be a singer, or play guitar
Man, you gotta sweat or you won't get far
Cause it's never too late to work nine-to-five
You can take a stand, or you can compromise
You can work real hard or just fantasize
But you don't start livin' till you realize - "I gotta tell ya!"
God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you
Gave rock and roll to everyone
God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you
Put it in the soul
(Instrumental break)
God gave rock and roll to you (to everyone he gave the song to be sung)
Gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to everyone
God gave rock and roll to you (to everyone he gave the song to be sung)
Gave rock and roll to you, saved rock and roll for everyone
Saved rock and roll
chorus repeats out...
"I know life sometimes can get tough! And I know life sometimes can be a
drag!
But people, we have been given a gift, we have been given a road
And that road's name is... Rock and Roll
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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