I listened to a jazz combo the other night
Led by a piano player who was out of sight,
He controlled the band with his eyes and he had a mustache
He was cool calm collected and playin' for cash.
The piano player was sober and so was the bass
Who was tall and slender with emotionless face.
The drummer was older, drinking 151
You could tell he didn't believe anything new under the sun.
They'll tell you it's sex, drugs, & rock and roll
As if all you had to do was play from your soul,
They say it's the imperfections that make the song
But try it very long and you'll find they're wrong.
They weren't no quintet with two saxophones
Just a trio of losers and total unknowns.
Posted by Ron Stephens @ 2004-09-09 14:04:44
When quakes shall root out foundings to the core,
When bold Abora shakes with cholic roar,
Then let the one in Abyssinia weep
That man so rashly lays him down to sleep.
Small loss, perhaps, to lose a worn-out race
With feeble mind and self-deceiving face,
Who write their songs with fingers in the sand
And like Sir Spens, go walking on the strand.
Yet still a pity should we lose our hope,
Questing, ever questing, time always our foe...
Before the solemn eyes of aged Pope
Man holds the last spectacular at bay,
No more we weep; the moon is full again
Today; Eternity is then tomorrow.
Posted by Ron Stephens @ 2004-09-08 06:53:30
Well, it turns out that there is a lot of truth in the old adage, "you can't go home again". See, that place doesn't exist anymore. The place I left behind 17 years ago, no longer exists...a different place took its place. A time warp happened, proving that all is impermanent. You can't go home again...sad but true, baby blue...
Posted by Ron Stephens @ 2004-09-06 17:15:54