Friday Lyrics Mash: I Saw the Auld Lang Syne

But where do you belong
For auld lang syne

For auld lang syne, my jo,
And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere!
For auld lang syne

We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,
I got a new life
And surely I’ll be mine!

I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes I saw the sign
Under the pale moon
For auld lang syne

Shock!

For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne

And surely ye’ll be your pint-stoup!
I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes I saw the sign
For auld lang syne, my jo

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
For auld lang syne, my jo,
And pou’d the gowans fine;
How could a person like me care for you
Why do I bother
For auld lang syne

We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,
I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes I saw the sign
I’ve left you, ooohhh

We twa hae paidl’d in the burn,
We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,
You would hardly recognize me I’m so glad
I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes I saw the sign
For auld lang syne

And I am happy now living without you
How can a person like you bring me joy
I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes I saw the sign
For so many years I’ve wondered who you are
For auld lang syne
Sin’ auld lang syne

Is enough, enough
For auld lang syne,
Oooo, is enough, enough
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,
No one’s gonna drag you up to get into the light where you belong

And we’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,
Under the pale moon
But where do you belong
Where I see a lot of stars
For auld lang syne

We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,
And never brought to mind?
Life is demanding without understanding
For auld lang syne

And gie’s a hand o’ thine
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And we’ll tak’ a right gude-willie waught
No one’s gonna drag you up to get into the light where you belong
Sin’ auld lang syne

Oh, oh, oh, oh.
For auld lang syne, my jo
Life is demanding without understanding
We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne

I saw the sign and it opened up my mind
We twa hae run about the braes,
No one’s gonna drag you up to get into the light where you belong
But seas between us braid hae roar’d

Frae morning sun till dine;
For auld lang syne

When you’re not the one for me
And auld lang syne

Friday Lyrics Mash: I Saw the Auld Lang Syne

2,713,406 Signs You Grew Up In Kansas City

we circle a ball of fire
that floats in empty space,
slowly self-immolating,
though we speak every day
as though it’s that sacrificial star
rising up over us from the east.
in kansas city that means
that the east side burns first
(which is how kansas city likes it)
though only a few minutes later
the south ignites in a golden glory
followed immediately thereafter
by an ever-expanding, inflamed west
while the north laughs until it, too,
realizes it cannot contain the conflagration.
point being: all flesh burns equal.
just ask the witches you’ve accused.

2,713,406 Signs You Grew Up In Kansas City

accept the violence needed to ensure the maintenance of imperialist, future-oriented society*

the driveway holds water
     in a foot-sized divet
     that never properly drains.

each time i enter
     or exit a parked car,
     my toes get wet.

for there is a hole
     in the bottom of my shoe
     that lets the water in.

driveways crack.
     shoes fall apart.
     toes grow indifferent & cold.

*bell hooks

accept the violence needed to ensure the maintenance of imperialist, future-oriented society*

Friday Lyrics Mash: Hit Me, Santa Baby… One More Time

Oh, baby, baby
The reason I breathe is you
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
If you’ll check off my Christmas list
I shouldn’t have let you go
Next year I could be just as good
And now you’re out of sight, yeah
Show me how you want it to be
I’ll wait up for you dear
Ah, yeah, yeah
And really that’s not a lot
That you will be here
I shouldn’t have let you go
Come and trim my Christmas tree
Tell me, baby
With some decorations bought at Tiffany’s
How was I supposed to know
Don’t you know I still believe
Oh, baby, baby
That my loneliness
Hit me, baby, one more time
The deed
Is killing me now
Santa Baby, just slip a sable under the tree, for me
How was I supposed to know?
Show me how you want it to be
Boy, you got me blinded
To a platinum mine
There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do
Let’s see if you believe in me
Hurry, tonight
Light blue
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight
My loneliness is killing me (and I)
Oh, baby, baby
Oh, baby, baby
Think of all the fun I’ve missed
And checks
Santa cutie, and fill my stocking with a duplex
I must confess
When I’m not with you I lose my mind
Hit me, baby, one more time
‘Cause I need to know now, oh, because…
Give me a sign
A ring
Oh, baby, baby
‘Cause I need to know now, oh, because…
I really do believe in you,
And give me a sign
Been an awful good girl, Santa baby,
I don’t mean on the phone,
I must confess, I still believe (still believe)
That something wasn’t right here?
That you will be here
Hit me, baby, one more time
I must confess that my loneliness
Santa honey, one little thing I really need
Oh, baby, baby
So hurry down the chimney tonight
Don’t you know I still believe
And give me a sign
Santa baby, I wanna yacht
Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing
Hurry down the chimney tonight
Oh, pretty, baby
Is killing me now
Tell me, baby
Been an angel all year
Santa baby, a 54 convertible too
Think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed
Sign your ‘X’ on the line
Oh, baby, baby
Oh, baby, baby
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
Oh, baby, baby
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
It’s not the way I planned it
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
——————————————————
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays and Bangin’ New Year to you all. Thanks so much for continuing to read this ongoing experiment in mass communication. I am very thankful for your eyes. Hope to have plenty of new goodness to share here in 2017.
Sincerely,
jdoublep

Friday Lyrics Mash: Hit Me, Santa Baby… One More Time

All poetry is local

lucubrations

Last summer I had a poem featured in KC Studio magazine. I’d met the editor, Alice Thorson, during a studio visit, and she encouraged me to send her some poems after seeing the concrete/zigzag poems I had taped up on the wall.

It took me a few weeks to send anything, since I hadn’t written any actual poetry in years. The poem-ish things I had written were more design than language-based, funnel-shaped clouds of text that took the reader (if there was a reader) in several directions at once. I spent several nights cranking out pages on the refurbished Lettera 32 I keep on the work table in the garage, with the door cracked open to let the rain in a little bit. Jenn found most of them disorienting, but liked this one, and so did Alice. I called it “To Alfonso, Gardener of Moon-Dried Tomatoes.”

I didn’t know the…

View original post 631 more words

All poetry is local