Something For Gregg (+7)

I was somewhere deep in Kansas,

on a Triumph 69’

 

When your song came on the jukebox,

   and hit me from behind

 

I was headed for a bad place,

and cared for nothing much

 

When I heard the song ‘Melissa,’

my heart and soul were struck

 

Entranced, your lyrics captured me,
like nothing had before

 

When you sang about ‘The Gypsy,’

I headed for the door

 

But something made me turn around,

and grab another dime

 

Ten more times in that diner’s booth,

still lost within your rhyme

 

Now back inside the bus station,

and sleeping on the bench

 

I scratch your words into the wood,

last dollar gone and spent

 

My bike outside against the wall,

the kickstand now long gone

 

And out of gas, my hopes have dashed,

that unrelenting song

 

Waking up at ten unsettled,

across the street I pushed

 

The sign said Triumph-BSA,

the owner Mister Cush

 

He asked, “What’s with your motor,”

   I said “nothing—out of gas,

 

But worse I’m out of money,

can I sell the bike for cash

 

Would you please just buy my Triumph,

I know it’s old and worn

 

It got me here through seven states,

runs great both cold and warm”

 

“I’ll pay three hundred on the spot,

on that can we agree?”

 

We walked back up inside his shop,

three bills he handed me

 

I thought about a bus ride home,

my thumb looked more in line

 

Facing East on old route #50,

my heart in deep decline

 

The first big rig that came along,

was bound for York Pa.

 

The driver said “If you like dogs,”

I’ll take you on your way”

 

In York I caught a fast ride out,

two ‘dodgers’ going North

 

And got back home with hat in hand,

your song to guide me forth

 

Two years then passed, I met my wife,

four more and our first child

 

And we named her ‘Sweet Melissa,’

her dad back from the wilds

 

Now forty years have come and gone,

my beard and hair both gray

 

I owe you Gregg, and always will,

your song, her name—that day

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

   For Gregg Allmans- ‘Melissa’

 

 

   Now Others Sung

 

A Poet writes from experience,

dilettantes rave and rant

 

The price demanded to feed the Sage,

—wishing and hoping can’t

 

Magic in wrapping a word around,

place known or thing you’ve done

 

Beauty when lyrics belong to you,

—in songs now others sung

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

 

 

That Lonely Road

 

Is your poetry now dusty,

as it lays back on the shelf

 

Have your dreams become dismissive,

do you live for someone else

 

Is there mold inside your memory box,

questions now long gone

 

Do you walk that lonely road alone,

—your heart to drag along

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

 

 

 

Deception

 

The lies about tomorrow,

—the truth about today

 

Deceived by joy and sorrow,
—all future gone astray

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

 

 

Ichiban

 

That cartridge in a sniper’s gun,

   true Poets kill with only one

 

The shooters bullet marked by him,

one word to kill what lies within

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

 

 

 

I Shoudn't

 

I knew I shouldn’t,

but despite the pain and hurt I still could

 

Like the Bluesman said…

“You got a bad way of doing me good”

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

 

 

 

The Mask

 

The enemy of my enemy often masquerades,

—as my friend

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2014)

 

 

Raging Tiger

 

For those who love the concept of power,

but hate its execution

 

A raging tiger has just left its cage,

—to feed on your confusion

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)