Winter Solstice Blues
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Tag Archives: Blues
Playing the Train Station Square
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Hill William Wet Blues
lines listening to the blues
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whip ugly stick
listening to hopkins whip an ugly stick
listening to hopkins whip an ugly stick
looking over mountains never seen
a lonesome dream intruding on the blues
a lonesome dream intruding on these blues
money crisis creeps across the world
people choosing to think that they are choosing
people choosing to think that they are choosing
which side they will elect to rule the losing
bird serenading to an empty nest
bird serenading to an empty nest
black bird singing to a whitewashed empty nest
one more time most of the people failing
one more time most of the people failing
to see the cliffs they are building to jump off
foreign worker needing nails to drive
foreign worker needing nails to drive
into the cross the rich man make him carry
free from your last spell you seek out another
free from your last spell you seek out another
can’t think about the things you made me do
dancing with my arms out like a windmill
dancing with my arms out like a mill
wondering what i’ll do if the music starts
hearing riffs and seeing candy dancers
seeing necromancers hearing stiffs
gandy dancers standing on my hands
slow tunes escaping from my weary head
slow tunes escaping from my weary head
bald as the goat found drowned at john o’groats
Kick Start Friday Morning with the Blues
Blues. The dance, the passing dance of life.
Can’t win cause I don’t got nothing I can lose.
The dances of life pass white. Then die. The Blues,
Music building castles with no moats,
Ivories blacking nights all whitening blues.
Catfish barbs bait abandoned Barbie dolls.
We dance against the fabric of bad times.
The wind resembles wounds we’re still to suffer.
John Lee Hooker knew. He knew the blues.
What wind resembles only poets can see.
There’s nothing there. It’s getting everywhere.
Coherence is a con game dream times play.
The waking wait for wakes to celebrate.
The sleeping dance as nimble as the quick,
The Southland’s magic making Yankees sick.
Chase the mighty dollar as it shrinks.
We chase a dollar that used to buy us drinks.
It’s all the change now come back from a ten
For that tequila sunrise starting off my day
Dancing on the edge of jumping off
Crying croc tears on Dorito chips,
Dancing shotgun patterns in the snow
Melting mucous membranes as we go.
Meniscus on cold coffee yields to spoon
Stir up shades of white enthusiasm
For black coffee poured on back-up blues.
Monday Late Night Blues
It’s hard sometime to pay enough attention
It’s hard sometime to pay enough attention
when you know the time you’ve got is not enough
The time I had was plenty — I let it go
The time I had was plenty — Let it go
There’s more where that time came from. It’s not mine
My steel guitar got stolen very long ago
My steel guitar got stolen very long ago
I never learned to play it anyhow
And now I pay attention but I don’t care
Oh yes, I pay attention but I don’t care
My mind went first and I ran after it
Bring up the blues piano, pedals stomped
Bring up the blues piano, pedals stomped
The piano tuner left — nobody paid his bill
I reminisce about a cotton field that I never saw
I reminisce about a cotton field that I never saw
I thought it was the bayou for too long
Now I bottle all my sorrows up
I bottle up my sorrows in a jug
That I carry in this foxed brown paper bag
Play the ragged blues in a bluesy key
Play the ragged blues in a bluesy key
No long green headed down this way
Descending Blues Man
he was descending through the bottle
forgetting why he no longer could remember
he made some lyrics that he sang off key
and he sang them to all of his early selves
the guitar that he imagined he was playing
hit the chords that early mornings made him weep
and he took that for a sign he was still human
or might of been or probably was that day
that he made the choice or did not, it makes no mind,
when he finally saw the end game
when he finally saw the end game
and realised that he had not been chosen
he’d not been chosen first and he’d not been chosen last
for the whirling pickup game of active life
and he remembered and forgot again he’d been that man
who could have done that choosing and he had failed.
Earth Tourist 