Melodic Irony

As I continue to fumble along in my archive chest; I have always wondered whether the 'words' be intelligent or rather pure emotion. In this quest, I have jumped from rainbow to concrete perhaps straying on the concrete side a tad more than necessary. Nonetheless, what I bring here is something I like to think that was born in transit.

This piece "Melodic Irony" could best be experienced to imagine a brooding figure towering over a pint-sized piano poking clumsily at the keys rather to his great delight (for those of you who have difficulty in potraying this image, take 'Schroeder' from the cartoon strip " Peanuts" who has a fondness for the piano, all due apologies Mr. Schulz).. surrounded by a women dressed in black and veils across their faces in a room, gaily chatting away as they sip tea off their bottom-less cups. I think this best explains the flow of the following piece, what it lacks in creativity it makes up (i hope) in the environment created. and the piano man continues....

Shooting star or One hit wonder,
Come again, what you are…
Fancy suits of dirty money
Look around, its just baloney

Man on moon and God on slippers,
Is Bush our very own Jack the Ripper?
My my my, I like you all, but I aint gonna be the one to fall…
Speak of WMD’s, last I heard Hate killed ‘em all…

Sunlit cloudy day, perfect for a swim
All I see are rivers of blood, Oh so very grim.
Do we laugh as loud and as often?
Are the hugs preludes to a coffin…

A touch is met with such suspicion
A whisper can ground planes, not worth a mention.
Is that facial hair? Follow me “sir!!!"
Could be the president or a mothball Fakir.

Hell!! Fly me off to the place I adore,
Hey Mr. Pilot!!!! Whoever said El Salvador?!?!

Human Nature..

It's been a while since something came up and a look in the past brought this across my wistful gaze. Some of you may have glanced at this one earlier and some may not. Nonetheless, this one is to the struggle... What is right or wrong may not be for us to decide as it does depend upon each of our perceptions, and I have taken just one. I would also like to stand my ground in my belief reagrding the struggles of fellow men, women, children, revolutionaries in their 'struggle' for the right to Freedom, Love, Expression, Live....

From the archives...

Its early noon, yet its pitch dark
The time had come for some, yet they walk
The journey has halted for those about to embark.

A mother looks around fearful of her womb
A crowd immersed her,
A dread engulfed her.
Somewhere in the distance, off goes a “meticulous plan”
Born in a cave or a boardroom irrelevant to the unborn child…

The Dust has settled, and gloom has descended,
If you pay attention, a child-like innocence has prevailed.

Battered & Bruised, Hurting & Dying.
A nation awakes; A raging bull
Like a storm before the lull.
“Masks” are worn, “Heroes” are born.
Morals are shot, Ethics in tatters, “‘tis time to avenge!!”
The glint of the devil behind this charade.

Above the din, below the heavens,
there flies a dove, desperate for penance.
She was a majestic color, pure & elegant at birth,
Now she’s back, with nothing to boast but a pitiful girth.

Time has passed; Flown for some, crawled for others.
Some say Evil is vanquished, others swoop like vultures.

There was a garden,
Homage to lovers, thinkers and frolickers amassed.
It’s still a garden,
But now it’s homage to victims, cretins & souls departed

We all yearn for peace,
Just don’t ask for my piece…
Let me kiss you,
Before I kill you…

The dust has settled and gloom has descended,
If you listen carefully, you can almost hear the sound of music.