I’m stuck at the office again.
I was going to leave an hour ago.
One thing after another arose.
A dozen “just one more thing to go.”
Traffic is building up outside.
Each minute here adds ten to the drive.
I might as well just stay here now.
I’ll never make it home alive.
It doesn’t matter your position,
From leader down to clerk.
The only way to leave the office early,
Is to never go to work.
I can’t sleep any more.
I can’t sleep any less.
I’m staring at the ceiling.
My brain is quite the mess.
I traveled the world over.
Time zones changing every day.
Now, I’m feeling my eyelids flutter.
While I’m trying to hit the hay.
I took a nap this afternoon,
That should have done the trick.
I’m awake way past my bedtime,
Listening to my clock tick.
I’m never going to sleep again,
I’m just staying up all night.
It’s time to watch infomercials.
I’ve given up the fight.
I’m in this over my head,
I’m in this thing too deep.
The only cure for insomnia
is a good night’s sleep.
It’s National Poetry Writing Month (again.) So, it’s time to build up some angst, and crank out some blues. I’ve been producing work only sporadically, so it’s time to get a month’s worth of material out. Thirty days, thirty poems. Almost three albums. Let’s get started.
I have the idea for a chorus, and then it turned into a bunch of related choruses, but I have no idea what the verses would be. I was thinking if I wrote it down, it might help. So far, it hasn’t.
Steve Earle has a song called “Ashes to Ashes” on his “Jerusalem” album, I heard another song that uses the phrase on KNON yesterday (Thank you, Texas Renegade Radio!), and it is a great phrase for a country song, as are many Biblical phrases.
I’m beginning to think you just call this “Ashes to Ashes” and just use all the choruses as they are, and declared them verses. I suppose they should be in alphabetical order, but that may be trying to hard.
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
Before I could drive,
I had to be bussed.
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
Yeast, water and flour
Make your daily crust.
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
I dropped the coffee,
And how Daddy cussed.
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust.
It’s fire for the wicked,
And joy for the just.
(Editor’s note: that is the only one someone might actually use. I really like it.)
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
Out of all of my sins,
I’ve suffered most for my lust.
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
If you want good wine,
You have to age the must.
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust.
Hasn’t rained in forever,
So what caused all this rust?
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
The last thing to break
Is another man’s trust.
<last chorus, only makes sense live, why do I hear Jim or Jason sing this?>
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust.
There’s a woman down front
With a mighty fine bust.
I’ve been going round in circles.
Just going with the flow.
I’ve seen that pretty girl before,
About thirty-four seconds ago.
I only stop for tires and gas,
I can’t even visit the bar.
I really need a pee break,
But I just can’t leave the car.
I’m turning left forever,
I’m out here all alone,
I’ve gone three hundred miles,
But I’m no closer to my home.
I can’t just waste all day
Watching TV shows.
Even if it’s Sunday.
Snapple Facts says
You burn more calories
Sleeping than watching TV.
Thank you, Snapple.
I’m going to exercise now.
I’m going to take a nap.
I visited the sick today,
I listened to their pleas.
But now My Lord is testing me,
The valet lost my keys.
I was going to go in peace.
Onward through the fray.
“Who was that saintly woman?”
All the nursing staff would say.
I would have left in peace,
Except for that damn valet.
The bastard lost my friggin’ keys.
So I can’t just drive away.
People started watching,
As I chastised that valet.
It’s hard to appear saintly,
When you’re cussing out Jose.
I want to love my fellow man,
Since I have My Lord to please.
But I’m going to strangle one of them,
If he doesn’t find my keys.
It’s almost always dusty,
Until the day you nearly drown.
And you’re going to lose your fences
When the Seco Creek comes down.
A dry creek bed is empty,
A failure at its task.
But when its name means “Dry”,
Water may be too much to ask.
Yet, the Seco Creek was running
On the night great-grandpa died.
Mourners rode through Sabinal
To come say their good-byes.
It’s almost always dusty,
Until the day you nearly drown.
And you’re going to lose your fences
When the Seco Creek comes down.
When the rains had finally finished
And the water levels sank
A car still needed horses,
Just to get across the bank.
There are fossils in the Seco,
Another ages’ souvenirs.
So there’s always been dry water,
It’s been flooding here for years.
It’s almost always dusty,
Until the day you nearly drown.
And you’re going to lose your fences
When the Seco Creek comes down.
Your drink is dry,
The plates are gone,
You haven’t seen a waiter
In oh so very long.
The lights start flashing,
There’s nobody else around.
The waitress has her shirt untucked,
You can’t hear another sound.
Maybe you should check your watch.
Time passes in a wink.
If all the staff looks annoyed,
It’s later than you think.
After the game,
Players and staff are in the bar
And meet with their own kind.
Umpires meet at a secret place,
The Lighthouse for the Blind.