Sonamphony
I am never without Ludwig
that mess of tangled hair
accompanying me with his
fifth, ninth, and moonlight
in my now unplugged ears
stereo muted, no longer
blaring at my need to hear
thousands of times before
now lilts indelibly sealed
o but he moves me still
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Ludwig
I am never without Ludwig
that mess of tangled hair
accompanying me with his
fifth, ninth, and moonlight
in my now unplugged ears
stereo muted, no longer
blaring at my need to hear
thousands of times before
now lilts indelibly sealed
o but he moves me still
`
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Symphonatas
I am never without Ludwig
that mess of tangled hair
accompanying me with his
fifth, ninth, and moonlight
o but he moves me still
stereo muted, no longer
blaring at my need to hear
thousands of times before
now lilts indelibly sealed
in my unplugged ears
poem by Frederick Kesner
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You Seem So Swell There Mister
You seem so swell there mister in your brand new motor car
And you wish to let the World know of how wonderful you are
You show your blond the scenery and you drive her up and down
With your car stereo blaring through the wide streets of the town.
You may impress some people but you do not impress me
I look at you driving your car and only arrogance I see
You want us all to notice and I have taken note
That smug smirk you wear on your face tell me of one who gloat.
For your obvious trappings of wealth you I do not begrudge
But by the way you flaunt your assets you ask me to be your judge
Driving through the leafy suburb with your car stereo blaring loud
You do like to be noticed and you do seem rather proud.
With your girlfriend there beside you a big smile on her face
A rather lovely looker and her curves in the right place
She helps to feed your ego and make a man of you
But with you will she linger and does she love you true?
You seem so swell there mister with your girlfriend and new car
You want all of us to notice of just how marvellous you are
With your car stereo blaring loudly you may yet learn from father time
That on too much self adulation some young men spend their fleeting prime.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Stereo
Written by gerry beckley and jimmy webb, 1984
Found on perspective.
Stereo
We hear both sides
We sympathize
We live our lives in stereo
The left and the right
The dark and the light
We wrestle with the balance
We change our tone
We leave our phone
And tape record our absence
In lovin memory
Stereo
Were livin it in stereo
We fix it so our love is high fidelity
Mix it so we never lose the melody
We try to equalize our lives in stereo
So on we go
From side to side
As we divide
A single life in stereo
The far and the wide
We override
The feedback from the others
The unkind phrase
We lock in phase
Were only really listening to the stereo
Stereo
Were livin it in stereo
We tune it till we have a perfect parody
Commune with such a fine-cut, crystal clarity
It seems to symbolize
Our lives in stereo
Oo (la, la, la, la, la, la), yeah, yeah, yeah
Oo (la, la, la, la, la, la), yeah, yeah, yeah
Oo (la, la, la, la-a)
Stereo
Stereo
We fix it so our love is high fidelity
Mix it so we never lose the melody
We try to equalize our lives in stereo
Stereo
Stereo
We fix it so our love is high fidelity
Mix it so we never lose the melody
We try to equalize our lives in stereo
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tangled In Love
By marcy levy and richard feldman
A modern man with an old-fashioned heart.
One look at her and I fell apart.
I was always the one playing it cool.
I got caught in the act, now theres no turning back.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
I got caught up, bought up, strangled, tangled in love.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
A long black dress and the call of the wild.
I was a fool to think she was just a child.
Out of my mind, out of control.
Knew that feeling too well, tried to run but I fell.
Chorus
I never meant to feel this way,
Now I always want to stay...
Chorus
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freedom through music
Music is like a drug, i've just gotta have it
Music to me is like crack to a addict
With music in my ears, i've just enter a state of freedom
That's a feeling i wish never to come away from
I block out the world through music blaring from my headphones
With music blaring through in my ears i'm in a world of my own
With music, i'm feel as free as a bird
All thanks to this one word.
M-MESMERIZING
U-UPLIFTING
S-SE DUCTIVE
I-INCREDIBLE
C-COMPELLING
I'm addicted to it, i can't seem to live without it
Cause i found my freedom through music
poem by Harrison Fairchild
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There Are Thousands And Thousands
there are thousands and thousands of poems
written everyday in this world where we, whether we like it or not,
still continue living, breathing, writing, sighing,
whatever that we do, singing, bathing, playing, mourning,
there are thousands and thousands of poems
thousands of us, doing the same boring things in this world,
you are one of us, we are us, us, us, us,
thousands, and trillions, we are us,
despite, i have my ears for you, my eyes,
all for you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Loneliest Conversations
The loneliest conversations
are the ones we have
to ourselves when no one is there.
The empty space does not answer
with an argument or a kind voice.
All we hear is our own whispers,
which only our ears hear.
Even our yells are muted,
as they look for someone else
who cannot be found.
poem by David Harris
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Under The Moonlight
Under this moonlight I know I have no chance with you,
You look at me with such sadness,
Those eyes put me under a spell,
A spell I can not break,
Such sorrow,
Under the moonlight,
You glow with such beauty,
Your smile,
Your laughter,
Your touch,
How I miss those,
My eyes feel with tears,
Such sadness,
You can not bare to ignore,
Under this moonlight,
You say I look beautiful,
You look at me as if we were to kiss under this moonlight,
I can feel your hands all around me,
You speak to me with soften words,
You wisper in my ears,
Under the moonlight,
You shine like the sun,
You made me happy till the day you left me with a broken promise,
A broken heart,
Under this moonlight,
I cried for you,
A soften words you can not hear,
Something that I rather leave behind,
Something you and I don't belong,
Under the moonlight,
We say our goodbyes.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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Snares
Snares, sears, nears, are, era, ears, as, an, seas, ran, snare;
And like a threshing-sledge dragging the mire,
But the rattle of the spear is all that i do hear around me.
White hair, black hair and coloured hair!
The deep boils like a caldron;
But my ears heard of you and now,
My own eyes have seen you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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She
I think the dead are tender. Shall we kiss? --
My lady laughs, delighting in what is.
If she but sighs, a bird puts out its tongue.
She makes space lonely with a lovely song.
She lilts a low soft language, and I hear
Down long sea-chambers of the inner ear.
We sing together; we sing mouth to mouth.
The garden is a river flowing south.
She cries out loud the soul's own secret joy;
She dances, and the ground bears her away.
She knows the speech of light, and makes it plain
A lively thing can come to life again.
I feel her presence in the common day,
In that slow dark that widens every eye.
She moves as water moves, and comes to me,
Stayed by what was, and pulled by what would be.
poem by Theodore Roethke
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Let me brush your tangled Hair
My sweet baby gets up after dark
A runs fast through the quiet green park
Returning looks tiered as she flops in the armchair
I say relax sweety let me brush your tangled hair
Darling looks fantastic as she sets off for work
Running phoning faxing and training the new clerk
Baby does a great job she’s an angel she really does care
When she gets home I say relax let me brush your tangled hair
After dinner and all the dishes are done
I dim the lights pop the cork now starts the fun
We roll scream and shout its the best ever I swear
Then she says to me let me brush your tangled hair
poem by David Darbyshire
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Entangled in Her Hair
Her hair
covers my face
she
kisses my mouth
kisses my kisses.
She chuckles.
I stroke her hair.
She sways &
...moves.
Her hair
covers my chest.
She
titillates a nipple
...it tickles.
I run my fingers
through her hair.
She sashays &
...moves.
Her hair
covers my navel
& there...&
there...abouts!
I…almost beside myself
neither...here...nor... there...
Lost in the anywhere
of an everywhere.
I clutch
her hair.
She shimmies &
...moves.
Her hair
covers my crotch.
She
licks it
into shape.
She
goes to say
something
it’s on
the tip of
her tongue.
But, she says nothing
only: “Mmmmm...! ”
& smiles
...smiles.
I close
my eyes.
My hands
entangled in
her hair.
*******
TREAD SOFTLY
We rest on the bed
your head rests against my head
sharing the same dream.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Talk Show Host
I can't describe the pressure of the hype
Another show they'll have your vein opened up again
But it's all the same they way they sell the game
Sucking out the feeling so you'll never win
Overload...in stereo...I'm sweating like a talk show host tonight
Overload...in stereo...I'm sweating like a talk show host tonight
Despite the high that tends to come out live
The repetition seems to grab the flare away
The radio it seems so shady oh
I'll never hear myself just quite the same again
Overload...in stereo...I'm sweating like a talk show host tonight
Overload...in stereo...I'm sweating like a talk show host tonight
I'll see you on the way down
Overload...in stereo...I'm sweating like a talk show host tonight
Overload...in stereo...I'm sweating like a talk show host tonight
Tonight
Tonight
Tonight
Tonight
song performed by by Flickerstick from Welcoming Home The Astronauts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seeing Things Not There
Our voices are sometimes muted
on seeing things that are not there.
Witnessing events relived from the past
by people no longer here,
hearing voices we cannot explain.
At first, they frighten us,
as we know not what they are
or where they come from.
However, they hold our fascination
at what only we can see and hear.
Millions of moments from the past
cross our path throughout our life.
Some remain invisible except to our ears
and others re-enact a history
in which they were involved.
The less we talk about them,
the less we will understand
why they pay a visit to only us
when millions of others
walk along the same path.
21 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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Entangled Hair
oh i see, your hair
entangled last night
must i have been
there? i must have been
drunk, for i do not remember.
Did i kiss you? Did i make
love with you?
I have this sticky feeling you
know and i must have been
guilty of having loved you.
I check my thighs and
they claim innocence.
I ask my lips and
they say they were never
wet last night.
I touch my abdomen
there is no shouting
faggot in there.
so your hair got tangled
last night, and you are telling
me that all this mess is caused
by me?
sorry, things sometimes exist
all in the mind of a woman
scorned.
someone said it, i think
i still remember. Not Shakespeare,
it was someone else,
but not me, i am sure of that.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How Many Times Have You Asked Yourself
Finally...
You reach home.
Believing you are sheltered.
And will get deserving rest!
Then suddenly the phone rings.
To leave you wondering,
If the caller is someone you should address.
And with unanswered questions,
You unleash from your mind...
What should be done next!
You want to know...
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
When you have issues you have not yet to address.
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
Relax?
You can't!
A tension is enhanced.
The phone keeps ringing to erase the chance.
And...
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
When you have issues you have not yet to address.
And that somebody wants to disturb your rest.
And with unanswered questions,
You unleash from your mind...
What should be done next!
You want to know...
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
When you have issues you have not yet to address.
And that somebody wants to disturb your rest.
How many times,
Have you asked yourself...
How many times,
You've asked yourself....
How many times have you done this and did nothing else?
To be there to please somebody else...
And not yourself!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Radio #1
If you need some fun
Some good stereo gum
Radio #1
Brand new ears at once
Eject musical trash
Radio #1
Radio #1
Radio #1
We love
Melancholy snipers
Well become
Flower gun users
We request
Funeral of sadness
We play
The shade destroyers
If you need some fun
Some good stereo gum
Radio #1
Brand new ears at once
Eject musical trash
Radio #1
Radio #1
Radio #1
Radio #1
Radio #1
Radio #1
Radio #1
Radio #1
Radio #1
Radio #1
song performed by by Air
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Boy's Trials
When I was but a little lad
One thing I could not bear,
It was to stand at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
They didn't keep boys' hair as short
As it's kept now-a-days,
And mine was always tangled up
In twenty different ways.
I'd twist my mouth and grit my teeth,
And say it wasn't fair-
It was a trial, and no mistake,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd brush and brush each stubborn curl
That grew upon my pate,
And with her scissors nip and clip
To make the edges straight.
Then smooth it down until it shone,
While I would grin and bear,
And feel a martyr through and through,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd take my round chin in her hand
And hold it there the while
She made the parting carefully,
Then tell me with a smile:
'Don't push your cap down on your curls
And spoil my work and care;
He is a pretty little lad
When mother combs his hair.'
I'd hurry out and rumple up
That mop of hair so thick-
A vandal, I, for she had worked
So hard to make it slick-
And wish I were a grown-up man
So nobody would dare
To put a washrag in my ears,
Or comb my tangled hair.
Heigho! now that I'm bald and gray,
Methinks I would be glad
To have her smooth my brow and cheeks,
And whisper, 'Mother's lad!'
A longing for the care-free days
Doth take me unaware;
To stand, a boy, at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
poem by Jean Blewett
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A Muted Tune
You be a couplet
And I'll be the prose-
All they hear is your heart that's beating,
All they hear is the door that close.
You be the portal
And I'll be the way-
All they hear is the words, that falling;
All they hear, what they want to say.
You be the starlight
And I'll be the moon-
All they hear is a far light shining:
All they hear is a muted tune.
poem by Patti Masterman
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