tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10286757439263716902024-03-12T22:31:18.792-04:00I, g clairGinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.comBlogger996125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-23434693486608602312011-12-25T01:05:00.014-05:002011-12-25T23:51:58.132-05:00is this a dream? - ig clairI'm not alone but still sometimes it seems<br />so much alone, and often in my dreams<br />just like the one who calls me "Dear"<br />you speak my name and draw me near<br />but leave me hanging, way up on these beams<br /><br />and waking, suddenly it's very clear<br />I'm climbing on this bridge from there to here<br />eternal space surrounds me and<br />a sense of love confounds me, when<br />in reasoning, I think ought to fear<br /><br />'It's gonna be alright', You say I ought to know<br />I've never been a stranger to the show<br />you play the song, I know the score<br />we wrote the music long before<br />You'll never leave, you say, come on, let's go.<br /><br />I think too much I'm told, I know it's true<br />but that's okay, this traveling mind will do<br />it's time to put this girl to sleep<br />my thoughts will settle in the deep<br />but slumber stirs the climber in us too.Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-63899467895730058352011-09-19T11:12:00.020-04:002011-09-20T21:27:24.863-04:00big arse rocker- g clair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/R1g3rGVLPwI/AAAAAAAAAb8/1cK_jV4YCQs/s1600-h/deck_singlechair.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/R1g3rGVLPwI/AAAAAAAAAb8/1cK_jV4YCQs/s400/deck_singlechair.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140920188216753922" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Last Christmas Eve<br />that's when I found her<br />big arse rocker<br />lying in the trash<br />'neath layers of paint<br />magnolia flowers<br />still blooming, carved<br />in oak or ash<br /><br />it's been a while<br />since you've been rockin'<br />passed along through<br />the hands of time</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />the story's in you<br />but you're not talkin'<br />buried in layers<br />of paint and grime</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />can't deny<br />she's looking older<br />halfway home<br />to the pearly gate<br />a sadder thing<br />the day they sold her<br />wired her well<br />but sealed her fate<br /><br />and I declare<br />before I found you<br />my heart was smoldering<br />in smoke and ash</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />and I can guess<br />just why they left you<br />one man's lover<br />another man's trash</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />once restored<br />and in your glory<br />rocking chair<br />I'll see you though<br />your wood will breathe<br />and meet the floor boards<br />worn with time<br />but good as new<br /><br />Now grab a hold<br />of that big arse rocker<br />drag her out<br />to the slanty porch<br />say lookee here<br />you're fit for rockin'<br />and this old can<br />still carries the torch<br /><br />we'll work it out<br />I'm still believing<br />God's in His rocker<br />at the pearly gate<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">And here we'll sit<br />with my guitar and<br />surely bend<br />the rhythm straight</span>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-587868509947095302011-09-18T09:26:00.000-04:002011-09-18T09:27:16.967-04:00His Final Passage - g clair<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/S_bs8wXrd-I/AAAAAAAACpM/Xeap9Q0ITS0/s1600/ist2_768707-old-sailing-shi.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 380px; height: 380px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/S_bs8wXrd-I/AAAAAAAACpM/Xeap9Q0ITS0/s400/ist2_768707-old-sailing-shi.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473822925635942370" /></a><br /><br />His final passage, all it took to get this girl the read the book<br />he'd asked her twice before he died, she said she'd started it, but lied<br />His point was made, she'd do her best, fulfill this day, his last request<br />for now, what's sure, she's hanging on, to every word because he's gone<br />and once aboard, she's hauled to sea, no pleasure cruise, but misery<br />she stands her watch from noon till nine, he drinks his scotch, she sips her wine<br />He holds the course, and surely keeps the surging seas from where she sleeps<br />and once her grieving eases some, she's finds his voice a comfort from<br /><br />the memories, she reads his words through tear filled eyes, her ears have heard<br />and now she enters into his, her mind alive with images<br />of life beyond this mortal soul, of turquoise seas and sandy shoal<br />she mulls each chapter of this book and smells the sea and baits the hook<br />and climbs the mast up to top, unties the sails and let's them drop<br />and pulled into uncertainty, the ship sails through calamity<br />but never does she doubt the man who said he could, she knows he can<br />and reading on, she comes to see the trip was really meant to be<br /><br />for all her days she's been alone, sometimes by choice though seeds were sown<br />but landing here on troubled water, no one found his only daughter<br />and left to find her own way home, to settle down or wait or roam<br />she's learned to simply stay afloat, while others love and others dote<br />on children born to entertain, she'd prayed for babies but got rain<br />the wind kicks up, her heart still bleeding, blames herself for never heeding<br />youthful dreams for fear of failing, SUDDENLY she's out here sailing!<br />now rising from the galley door, the smell of fresh baked bread and more-<br /><br />sea-salt blends with airborne yeast, and draws her down to taste the feast<br />she swings the rope from deck to ladder, there's her Dad, a little fatter<br />the captain calls all hands on deck, a storm is brewing, still they check<br />to see what's cooking, time to eat, for work requires mortal meat<br />and in the middle of the story, here's her father's pride and glory<br />pictures taped upon the wall, his two best girls, and that's not all<br />a golden key on nail in teak <br />she'll watch him knead, while floorboards creak<br /><br />she stands beside and learns his ways, for he was gone most of her days<br />out to sea to make a living, her mother said he's always giving<br />now she listens as he praying, for wife and child, what's he saying?<br />bless them both while I'm away, lead them safely through the day<br />while fishermen have dropped their nets, he speaks of losses and regrets <br />that one small daughter missed her dad, he never knew just what he had<br />and once again the ride resumes, across a sea of oil plumes<br />and men are hardly scarce she finds, her father's story now unwinds<br /><br />he fought this battle with his crew, while stirring up a pot of stew<br />his Guif, the sea, was once so clear, he loved to fish, and held it dear<br />the tales within this mariner's log, could pull her head out of the fog<br />he's taught her how to sail the sea, to feel the wind which sets her free<br />from thinking it's about the past, to taking hold of things which last<br />and using what's inside of you to break the cycle, cook the stew<br />to forge ahead and let it go, you must read on, or never know<br />now seeing that his book will end, she slows her eyes and takes her pen<br /><br />and writes a note on every page, attempting to now quell the rage<br />for how could he who claimed to love, allow her pain to rise above<br />the peaceful calm she's found within his final passage, 'tis a sin<br />and still, one day he shouts "LAND HO!', the end approaches, heart in tow<br />she will not greet the writer's end nor leave this place of make-pretend<br />She will not listen anymore, but drops her anchor just off shore<br />and won't accept the last surprise, but stills his voice and shuts his eyes<br />she fights against the frothy foam while bailing water from her own<br /><br />she cannot bear to lose him twice, his loving presence, sound advice<br />on written pages, this the book, about his life at sea, the cook<br />for days to come the text will sit with marker near the end of it<br />for this her only comfort now, to know he's waiting still, somehow<br />and days will come and days will turn to weeks, then months, a year to burn<br />the only way for this old lass to ever move beyond the pass<br />to go and read the final pages; put to rest her rock of ages<br />do the only thing she can- to free herself from limbo-land<br /><br />She finds the book upon her shelf, and opening it for herself<br />She'll read the words the man had written, years before when he was smitten<br />on that page, and by his hand, a blessing that he'd always planned<br />to read her on her wedding day, the daughter he would give away<br />"Be sure to love the one you're with, and this my girl, your wedding gift"<br />and tucked within the jacket there, a little clipping of her hair<br />a poem she'd done when she was nine and two more things within the spine<br />a lock box number and that key, this man, he loved a mystery... <br /> <br />.@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@<br /><br />Today she rides upon the seas, and sails around the Florida Keys, <br />she drops her anchor, swims to shore, the waves don't scare her anymore<br />and just last year she met a guy, a salty sailor with one eye<br />he'd seen the movie, lived the book, and thus the blessing, and the hook.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/S_Cje7YqdGI/AAAAAAAACpE/DyY4Sa_cfQs/s1600/Wedding_jewelry_bride_and_groom_lightened.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 338px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/S_Cje7YqdGI/AAAAAAAACpE/DyY4Sa_cfQs/s400/Wedding_jewelry_bride_and_groom_lightened.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472053298987693154" /></a>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-763537006445222792011-09-11T10:11:00.018-04:002011-09-17T08:03:41.042-04:00Faith Hope and Love- g clair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ffgbu7yfw6Q/TmzPQrlDIkI/AAAAAAAAC9Q/FeKjIox7x0U/s1600/2528026110029521605cvryGn_ph.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 356px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ffgbu7yfw6Q/TmzPQrlDIkI/AAAAAAAAC9Q/FeKjIox7x0U/s400/2528026110029521605cvryGn_ph.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651119517926105666" /></a><br />Waiting on the day that I will pass away<br />and finally in Your presence then where no one can say<br />nothing lies beyond this life, or so we've often heard<br />but Truth has set us free from all the lies, we've got His Word <br />Hope and Faith that this is how it will be in the end<br />A love that lasts forever with my best and truest friend.<br /><br />Flesh and bones and every little bit of what's inside<br />a temporal place to house the soul, a fitting place to hide <br />and all you think and feel about will dictate what you do<br />but something brings conviction to the soul when you are through<br />The spirit draws a man to search for God who sent his Son<br />to take our sin to hell, and make our spirit with His one.<br /><br />We're waiting on that day, when Jesus comes this way<br />and caught up in the clouds where no one else can say<br />that nothing lies beyond this life, when JESUS speaks the Word<br />he formed this life from nothing, made these ears with which I've heard <br />Faith and Hope and Love, that is, a love that never ends<br />and we shall be together once again my kindred friends.Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-77022753436589671052011-08-02T08:12:00.005-04:002011-08-15T09:42:10.226-04:00who you are- G Clairbe who you are
<br />not just somebody else
<br />you can't possibly be
<br />when you're being yourself
<br />you are one of a kind
<br />you can do a whole lot
<br />but you can't when you're not
<br />so just be.Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-5436388497284993302011-06-21T21:20:00.046-04:002011-07-23T09:15:24.162-04:00mixed up but good- ig clair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vwbifa1JnLA/ThLtnA3V-6I/AAAAAAAAC7o/zfiIU5bgTdw/s1600/164.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vwbifa1JnLA/ThLtnA3V-6I/AAAAAAAAC7o/zfiIU5bgTdw/s400/164.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625820139041979298" /></a><br /><br />This is the year and I know that I know<br />that I know as if someone has told me<br />you've heard it before and you doubt that it's true<br />saying somebody selling has sold me<br />I'm telling my folks and they're making the jokes <br />with their well-meaning words and those all-knowing pokes<br />I've been leaving for years but what nobody hears <br />is that often my fears tend to hold me<br /><br />You can shout it all day, but your actions relay<br />more than anything else, if you mean what you say<br />You can stir up the salsa, while mixing the dip<br />but as for the chips let 'em fall where they may!<br /><br />So heat up the grill and slice up the steak<br />green peppers and onions, fajitas we'll make <br />and as for life's spices,whatever you wish<br />we all like a kick, and chipotle's delish!<br />cilantro is fine, tomatoes and lime,<br />get the measures all wrong? No matter, they rhyme<br />The fixings are great, life sizzles and steams<br />let's have us a plate and then roll in our dreams!<br /><br />You can shout it all day, but your actions relay<br />more than anything else, if you mean what you say<br />You can stir up the salsa, while mixing the dip<br />but as for the chips let 'em fall where they may!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bx91E1BtMdo/ThRZBw7sBWI/AAAAAAAAC74/VtXGgS-y42Q/s1600/salsa_dance.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 307px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bx91E1BtMdo/ThRZBw7sBWI/AAAAAAAAC74/VtXGgS-y42Q/s400/salsa_dance.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626219721342584162" /></a>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-2952933797932455992011-05-29T19:54:00.028-04:002011-06-21T00:59:24.108-04:00the reaper in the whirlwind -g clair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQDca-5qawg/TeMOwviiOqI/AAAAAAAAC68/4fwkzc0bQqw/s1600/TORNADO.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 279px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQDca-5qawg/TeMOwviiOqI/AAAAAAAAC68/4fwkzc0bQqw/s400/TORNADO.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612345791191595682" /></a><br />A strange and eerie silence just before the midnight train<br />in the distance rolling thunder, through the darkness, <br />here's the rain<br />now wind is whipping sideways, tearing limbs from massive trees, <br />it's a wonder, jolt of thunder, every man's not his knees!<br /><br />In a frenzied call to sleepers, get your loved ones up, she screams<br />it's the grimmest of all reapers come to rob you of your dreams<br />and it's grinding up the ground ten miles south, a mile wide <br />and it's headed your direction, so you'd better run and hide!<br /><br />So panic takes the front seat while we quickly dive for cover<br />and we pray for God's deliverance, 'cause no one wants to hover<br />and we wait upon hell's plunder,as it devastates the land<br />and leaves it's monster's calling card, demise of all things grand.<br /><br />lighter than a feather, yet never made for flight<br />carried on this wrecking train through blackness of the night<br />butcher knives! and power tools! an airborne metal shed!<br />A rabbit cage! an auto harp and someone's unmade bed!<br /><br />the stuff which neighbors value, all their papers, jewels and cash<br />have been caught up in the whirlwind, torn to shreds and churned to trash<br />it's then I hear the grinding of the wheels upon the track<br />and brace myself with others in the bowels of my shack<br /><br />a locomotive bearing down, we hold on tight and pray<br />the shrill wind screams, you can't believe it's happening this way!<br />and all we care about right then is staying on the ground<br />and keeping those we love alive, intact and safe and sound.<br /><br />The way it goes, no one quite knows the way it's gonna be<br />we trust that God is here to lead us through the deep Red Sea<br />though man's no match against it, we'll find shelter in the storms<br />and pray escape the reaper in the whirlwind as it forms.Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-5938093586907302672011-05-23T22:10:00.007-04:002011-05-29T16:19:06.611-04:00rude awakening- g claircarried on the whipping wind<br />like knives through blackness and pelting rain,<br />a frenzied unison of sirens slice into the deepest of dreams.Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-24597020558730946442011-05-19T10:49:00.012-04:002011-05-30T23:28:28.295-04:00Great-Grandma's house- g clair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cVUO9JFicD0/TdiSUUOVZLI/AAAAAAAAC60/Vl_VRHH6KUk/s1600/zzzz.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cVUO9JFicD0/TdiSUUOVZLI/AAAAAAAAC60/Vl_VRHH6KUk/s400/zzzz.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609394213613823154" /></a><br />in the mugginess of a mid-August night without air conditioning<br />on the second floor of an ancient cape, a rewired black electric fan oscillates while the unmistakable scent of must wafts through a zippered cotton pillowcover...<br />Hundred year old striped ticking struggles against the shifting weight of tired duck feathers, long since retired and unable to fluff with the punch of a determined fist.<br />Against my sleeping eyelids, tiny quills poke back like angry needles into a pin cushion<br />and I, squawking to half-consciousness, shield my eyes against the attack.<br /><br />How did they ever do this?Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-74787175454307229772011-05-14T14:05:00.000-04:002011-05-14T14:06:32.212-04:00Misery Loves Company- Ig clair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/SR71qGZ8TII/AAAAAAAAB-Q/wLLJafsFHlE/s1600-h/sad_clown.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/SR71qGZ8TII/AAAAAAAAB-Q/wLLJafsFHlE/s400/sad_clown.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268918717692791938" /></a><br /><br />I took a walk with Misery<br />we've been walking for a while<br />sometimes he says I go too slow <br />but I'll go that extra mile.<br /><br />We don't say much and that's okay, <br />I'm not much one for talking<br />Silence makes good company<br />though some may find this shocking.<br /><br />Well Misery's been up and down <br />these old familiar roads<br />prefers to walk with strangers now<br />who'll kick against the goads.<br /><br />He's seen his share of Trouble <br />it invites him in for tea;<br />he walks the sullen pathway home<br />alongside Sympathy.<br /><br />They take the train quite often<br />and meet up at the bars<br />Self Pity's always waiting <br />with her bottle, wounds and scars.<br /><br />They buy a round and toast the clown<br />whose always got one-liners<br />to keep the crowd distracted<br />from the sad-sack whining piners.<br /><br />Adversity can test your will <br />and take away your smile<br />you might meet up with Misery<br />and settle for a while,<br /><br />to dwell upon the negative<br />will limit where you go~<br />and stuck inside, you'll just abide, <br />and surely miss the show.<br /><br />Reflecting on old Misery, <br />I've often let him lead<br />through disappointments,<br />heartache,<br />and my own uncertain need.<br /><br />I slow my pace and let him pass,<br /> and turning up the sound<br />I bid farewell to Misery,<br />it's time to turn around!<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ufVRMP2BQ00&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ufVRMP2BQ00&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-65115657249838513832011-05-14T14:03:00.014-04:002011-06-07T17:53:24.301-04:00walkin' along- ig clair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J0kvcsX3qgs/TeRaYzewmzI/AAAAAAAAC7M/GD7iFH4KLxI/s1600/bob-dylan-jokerman.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J0kvcsX3qgs/TeRaYzewmzI/AAAAAAAAC7M/GD7iFH4KLxI/s400/bob-dylan-jokerman.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612710417793063730" /></a><br />Walkin' along<br />I hear his voice and get a skip in my step<br />I have to watch it cause I'm getting a rep<br />for acting crazy when I'm walkin' along<br /><br />I hear his song<br />and nothing else is makin' me tingle<br />could be the way he puts the gin in the jingle,<br />the cock 'n bull is always brimming with fizz<br />ain't no wonder 'bout the best that there is<br /><br />though he's old<br />and it's said<br />being old is better off than dead<br />well we know<br />where he'll go<br />Who saved his soul and for our sins He bled<br /><br />and when I'm blue<br />his voice can reach me in the worst places<br />bears the burden, then he ties up my laces<br />and lifts me like the sun in His song<br />staying with me while I'm walkin' along.Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-37443273798189875142011-05-02T10:11:00.000-04:002011-05-02T10:12:12.061-04:00With You- ig clair<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/Sp8Coc3r_zI/AAAAAAAACUA/eZUlv7Sm6RQ/s1600-h/zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" lk="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/Sp8Coc3r_zI/AAAAAAAACUA/eZUlv7Sm6RQ/s320/zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.jpg" /></a></div>looking back I couldn't see<br /> the storm clouds rising up inside me <br />here alone I've faced a darker day<br />hard to know where you begin just like the rain<br />you touched my skin and suddenly I'm drenched<br />and looking for a place to hide away<br /><br /> with you ( with you)<br /> hide away with you ( with you) <br /><br />take me back to where you're from <br />and dry me off beneath the sun <br />and speak to me the words which turn cold winters into summer <br />melt the ice within my heart please make it safe <br />and never part my life with you is so much more<br /> than what it was, a bummer<br /><br /> with you (with you) <br />summer fun with you (with you) <br /><br />Clouds move in and storms roll past <br />the darkness comes but never lasts <br />and through it all the Lord, our closest friend <br />First and Last, He's still the same and <br />trusting in His Holy Name <br />He's sure to bring us sunshine in the end<br /><br /> with you (with you) <br />in the end with you (with you)Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-522226436115084102011-03-14T15:21:00.003-04:002011-03-22T18:13:43.986-04:00just being there- G Clair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CFhLNCaLKQA/TX6tzckcjTI/AAAAAAAAC6U/6xmXuRYhK3M/s1600/tumblrlhw4s0vnpv1qhpi70.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CFhLNCaLKQA/TX6tzckcjTI/AAAAAAAAC6U/6xmXuRYhK3M/s400/tumblrlhw4s0vnpv1qhpi70.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584091687339986226" /></a><br /><br />The randomness, the senselessness<br />you strive to make life count and then it comes to this<br />and in the end you're left with pain<br />and someone writes a song and it just seems inane<br /><br />There is no way to justify, find meaning in your loss, you know<br />but still we try<br />there are no words you need to hear<br />you only want the comfort, and it seems so clear<br /><br />It's in our hearts, we want to take <br />your misery, to share your grief and ease the ache<br />well-meaning words, it's just the thought<br />and sinking down, too weak to stand<br />with arms you're caught<br /><br />Held up and loved, in silence there<br />is something more than words can say to show we care<br />no need to talk, yet still we share<br />the burden of your pain<br />it’s plain...<br />just being there<br />just being thereGinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-66555860591421641622011-03-05T19:21:00.028-05:002011-06-07T17:56:55.340-04:00Sweet Mystery- G Clair<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/RulH47VoqRI/AAAAAAAAAP8/eg0fuDa0D74/s1600-h/image005228.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/RulH47VoqRI/AAAAAAAAAP8/eg0fuDa0D74/s400/image005228.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109694295555221778" /></a> <br /><br />At the end of the day, it could go either way<br />much like at the end of this song<br />Well I write for a while then I sink to a smile<br />when I think how you draw me along.<br /><br />Well we came with a story, a beautiful poem,<br />unheard verses locked deep in our soul<br />and to way to discover what's locked in a lover<br />find the key that will fit the keyhole.<br /><br />Must we all be inspired? Seems like that's how I'm wired<br />I've got something to share, but it seems<br />that I still blame myself for what sits on the shelf<br />unreleased from my closet of dreams.<br /><br />From rejection to strife, anger cuts like a knife<br />and it tore at the door to my pride<br />it was then your sweet voice through the keyhole rejoiced<br />and released the deadbolt from inside.<br /><br />So now I can tell you just what's on my mind<br />I am corny and weird and unkind, sometimes<br />but I say what I feel 'cause i know what is real<br />and it sure beats what I left behind.<br /><br />Thought the answer was finding the right key<br />for the words and the music to roll<br />but the Master unlocking life's sweet mystery<br />is the Love sown in each others soul.Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-41229980407688299932011-03-05T17:59:00.004-05:002011-04-13T18:09:55.924-04:00porch swing rhythm - G Clair<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/RrlMjV9KsBI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/vTh16TUF6S8/s1600-h/porchSwing.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/RrlMjV9KsBI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/vTh16TUF6S8/s400/porchSwing.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096188623419256850" /></a><br /> <br />Minding our own, makin' it rhyme<br />it's all coming out, there's dust in the drought<br />but the rain comes in time.<br /><br />nothing held back, I've got nothing to say<br />let it roll off my shoulders, puts less your mind<br />and it's better that way.<br /><br />And isn't it nice, you like hot tea 'on ice'<br />thank you, yes, I can follow directions,<br />so please, don't think twice.<br /><br />And isn't it great, we can stay out real late<br />watching millions of sparkling stars,<br />while you're lickin' that plate.<br /><br />I said nothing at all, it's that horse in the stall<br />my foot fell asleep, but I'm not gonna weep<br />I can drag it or crawl.<br /><br />Now the wind's in the trees, and your hand's on my knees<br />and the warmth of your breath on my neck<br />puts my tired mind at ease.<br /><br />Distracted, it's true, idle chatter won't do<br />Better nothing to say, put the music on play<br />and be quiet with you.Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-6191191926156755752011-02-07T12:12:00.017-05:002011-10-02T20:26:09.393-04:00The Heart-broken Fireside Blues<span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/RyEfiFNABhI/AAAAAAAAAXY/vshjDysbPo4/s1600-h/rot.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/RyEfiFNABhI/AAAAAAAAAXY/vshjDysbPo4/s400/rot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125412521297053202" span="" border="0" /></a><br />What can you say out there in the fog<br />in want of the old flame, you burned your last log<br /><br />The memories are hot, the pain you remember<br />beneath all the ashes, that last glowing ember<br /><br />Don't bother to fan it, there's no fuel to burn<br />let it go out, save the ash for the urn<br /><br />turn your attention to wood that needs chopping<br />do something worthwhile, like sweeping and mopping<br /><br />Sweep out the soot and mop up your tears<br />clean out the attic let go of your fears<br /><br />Put on the blues,then something upbeat<br />get on your warm clothes, walk out to the street<br /><br />Follow it down to the steamy creek bed<br />The mineral water is something, it's said<br /><br />melts away sadness and heats up your head<br />better than anywhere else I've been led<br /><br />Water and Truth are hardly the same<br />but spoken by God and heated by flame<br /><br />springs from the Rock, eternally true<br />flows through the mind much better than brew<br /><br />Comforts the soul and eases the dread<br />lightens the burden and raises the dead<br /><br />this is the stuff that He baptized us in<br />Hope for the weary, forgiveness of sin<br /><br />Gave us His Word which will stand and deliver<br />won't ever forsake us 'cause He is The Giver<br /><br />and when life is dreary, and love let's you down<br />you're feeling all weary, as if you might drown<br /><br />read Psalm Twenty-Three and you'll get to the part<br />He leads you to water, and rest for your heart<br /><br />lie back in the warmth, pulled free from the mire<br />be freed from the past, and forever 'on fire'!<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/RyEfYVNABgI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/sKW_000ebg8/s1600-h/20588993-S.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/RyEfYVNABgI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/sKW_000ebg8/s400/20588993-S.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125412353793328642" border="0" /></a>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-27603325703510689032011-02-04T18:00:00.055-05:002011-03-05T18:35:34.395-05:00Heartstrings - G Clair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/TUyP0ZztRBI/AAAAAAAAC5M/FfjSKI8rKPM/s1600/DanielMerriam_HeartStrings%2B%25281%2529.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 344px; height: 346px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/TUyP0ZztRBI/AAAAAAAAC5M/FfjSKI8rKPM/s400/DanielMerriam_HeartStrings%2B%25281%2529.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569984969594192914" /></a><br /><br />I'm messing with your heartstrings and you're feeling out of tune<br />from now on no one touches these you cry out to the moon<br />You're safe and sound concealed, packed within your hard-shell case <br />protected by a shield from the hitch, forget the chase.<br /><br />And maybe you are best alone, a hard-shell case like me<br />prefer your friends to lovers, seems the way it ought to be<br />you've learned to tune your heartstrings to the symphony of life<br />rather than be messed with by a heavy handed wife.<br /><br />Well I've got something to tell you, which I've learned along the way<br />and I hope this golden nugget's gonna bless your heart today<br />though life's a hard-core teacher, take a chance and fail a test,<br />you'd be wise to save your heartstrings for the one who'll play them the best.Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-31070341077545468532011-02-03T12:57:00.005-05:002011-02-25T22:50:35.373-05:00Love is Hairy- G Clair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/TUrvN37O5iI/AAAAAAAAC4s/96khR_tRplA/s1600/4533727-fun-pregnancy-concept-man-holding-a-hands-like-heart-shape-on-his-big-hairy-stomach.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 263px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/TUrvN37O5iI/AAAAAAAAC4s/96khR_tRplA/s400/4533727-fun-pregnancy-concept-man-holding-a-hands-like-heart-shape-on-his-big-hairy-stomach.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569526910826767906" /></a><br />My first ever epic poem written during the peak of PMS. It reflects the usual feelings of insecurity, self loathing, paranoia, irritability, irrational thinking, mood swings, and a tendancy to turn on the loved one who is usually an innocent bystander. Mostly, it's just a silly poem about the hairy side of love.<br /><br />Love is hairy, stubbly stuff<br />shave all week it's never enough<br />whether I shave it or slather on Nair<br />whack it or hack it will always be there.<br /><br />Keeps coming back as much as you crop it<br />waxing and chemicals can’t even stop it<br />try to ignore it, the nubs comes in thick<br />even my eyebrows, a uni-brow chick.<br /><br />Come Saturday I don’t really care<br />let it grow outta my underwear<br />Let it alone, that unruly mop<br />looks like I got me a nice bumper crop<br /><br />This is my way, ain’t gonna change<br />my love and my hair are looking deranged<br />Sitting there pondering love and love's looks<br />flippin’ through Cosmo and metrosex books<br /><br />Beauty is bare in my favorite rag<br />Nary a hairy or haggard old nag<br />Eyebrows are separate and carefully arched<br />Lips are injected and never seem parched.<br /><br />Legs are butt smooth, and so are are the pits<br />Love is not given to hairy chick fits.<br />Speaking of nares, mine is exempt<br />The nose and the ears are extremely well kempt.<br /><br />Sunday mornin’ rolls around <br />but his razor can’t be found....<br />I call out his name and wait for an answer<br />his ditty bag’s gone could It be that dancer?<br /><br />The one that he watches the one he admires<br />could she be the one whose igniting his fires?<br />I’ve seen her there waiting the picture of grace<br />smooth, fair and agile not a hair out of place<br /><br />I sit on the edge of the tub shocked and numb<br />look in the mirror then look at my thumb<br />I eye up the woman whose not spent a dime<br />on personal pleasures as though it’s a crime<br /><br />My overgrown garden could not see the light<br />missed out on the sweetness, bare skin’s delight<br />Bought into myth and every girls hope<br />that she’d still be worth something without any soap.<br /><br />Rummaged around in a drawer feeling sick<br />through my tears I lay hold of my old Lady Bic<br />Slipped into the shower convinced he despised me<br />lathered and cried, none of this has surprised me<br /><br />He'd seemed a bit distant, preoccupied,<br />the more I persisted, the less satisfied<br />I should have considered my Love is not blind<br />his eyes are like sponges his vision will find<br /><br />The best of the beauties the cream of the crop<br />as sweet sugar blossoms parade past his shop<br />I have an epiphany there in the suds<br />Time's never wasted on pruning the buds<br /><br />Better to nip 'em if you're feelin manly<br />can't be mistaken for Charles or Stanley.<br />Lord knows the time I've put in at Curves<br />not that i see any good that it serves<br /><br />So who really cares if he's after that minx<br />just between us we know how she stinks<br />Let him go sister try rising above<br />'cause if that's all he's after it ain't really love.<br /><br />Making my plans to rip up his picture<br />wipe out his memory no longer a fixture<br />I can't say that I needed nor much that I cared<br />for the man or his dirty laundry I've aired<br /><br />When into my steamy retreat disconcerted<br />the voice of the man I was sure had deserted.<br />I silence my heart and put down the Bic<br />ease back the curtain and see my St. Nick<br /><br />The hairy faced heathen battered and worn<br />face kind of prickly needs to be shorn.<br />'What is THIS? 'he demands and holds out his hand<br /> 'Why, a worn out old mach 3, the triple edge brand! '<br /><br />"I just CHANGED this blade and the thing's dull and rusted!"<br />"Heck if I know", but I know I’ve been busted.<br />Step out of the shower bare skin drippin' wet<br />'At this rate I think I’ll buy stock in Gillette.'<br /><br />I hold out my Bic and smile at old Bones<br />"Would you like me to light your cigar, Mr. Jones?"<br />Leave him to his business, which won’t include the shave<br />Love is stubbly,love is soft and hairy to the grave.<br /><br />Gina Morrone 2007Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-16417744603010490252011-01-29T16:19:00.001-05:002011-01-29T16:19:55.427-05:00Riddle- Five for Fighting<iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/4BtqElO1OX4" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen></iframe>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-35761855111745137002011-01-28T16:37:00.002-05:002011-01-28T16:38:09.091-05:00Slice- Five for Fighting<iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/uIFgZD4errQ" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen></iframe>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-45338320256239951822011-01-28T10:59:00.015-05:002011-03-30T13:45:18.068-04:00reflecting---G Clair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/TUL7PNpgg5I/AAAAAAAAC4k/-X1MdEn9cx0/s1600/porchswing.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 399px; height: 356px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/TUL7PNpgg5I/AAAAAAAAC4k/-X1MdEn9cx0/s400/porchswing.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567288328163722130" /></a><br />Don't know how to tell you this, but somehow it must be<br />that someone tells us something and today I guess that's me.<br /><br />I've thought up lots of somethings and of all the thoughts I've got<br />the ones I could be sharing are the one's I'd rather not.<br /><br />See I've made a lot of choices from the dull part of my brain<br />most without foreknowledge, and of course some caused me pain.<br /><br />So I go about my business since I'm hired, this is true<br />when assigned you'd best be following the leader, and I do.<br /><br />But when I'm free to think alone, I look out on the fields<br />and contemplate my choices now and how the future yields.<br /><br />There are things you plan ahead in life and trust, though God is good, <br />that other folks will treat you well around the neighborhood.<br /><br />Things we count on, days and nights, the seasons and the years<br />but words are gold, be bold and God will surely quell your fears.<br /><br />The best book I am reading, besides the Bible's Truth<br />the story of George Washington, our founder, from his youth.<br /><br />Considering the past is wise and don't repeat mistakes<br />do your best to state your quest, and stay away from flakes.<br /><br />Give when you are able, do the right thing as it is said<br />a good man can't be faulted though he's human, heaven led.<br /><br />Use your gifts, 'a future and a hope' He's promised man<br />Be wise, get wisdom, realize your time is in His Hand.Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-14246019579478904982011-01-15T09:57:00.005-05:002011-01-15T10:10:57.871-05:00city of blame - G Clair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/SC3BLIguOOI/AAAAAAAABEQ/139hW2dCwl0/s1600-h/6a00e398244402883300e54f959cf48833-800wi.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/SC3BLIguOOI/AAAAAAAABEQ/139hW2dCwl0/s400/6a00e398244402883300e54f959cf48833-800wi.jpg" border="0" alt=""id=" <br />BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201025541690243298" /></a><br /><br />your memory serves you but mine is so lame<br />it bothers you still so please tell me again<br /><br />who stole your lunch box and who smashed your toy<br />who failed to hug you when you were a boy<br />who broke your heart and who fractured your tooth<br />who sapped your energy, who took took youth<br />who who who who<br /><br />and who wasn't there when you needed him so<br />who made you clean up and shovel the snow<br />who was a meany and who was a Grinch<br />who took a mile when you gave him an inch<br />who who wbo who<br /><br />what is the reason you must take the shame<br />tell it to get off your back just the same<br />let out the anger and cut loose the pain<br />grab onto love, baby, run from this city of blame<br /><br />who didn't choose you for kickball that day<br />who left you stranded to walk all that way<br />who took your Christmas and who stole your pride<br />who locked the door and then left you outside<br />in the rain<br /><br />who robbed your innocence, who stole your crown<br />promised the moon and took off at sundown<br />the memories haunt us though we may forgive<br />forgetting is hard 'cause it is what it is<br /><br />who took your hopes and your dreams to the floor <br />a lick a promise when you needed more<br />and who said "I Do" with his two fingers crossed<br />dumped you for somebody haggard and sauced<br /><br />what is the reason you must take the shame<br />tell it to get off your back just the same<br />let out the anger and cut loose the pain<br />grab onto love, baby, run from this city of blame.Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-11393321057778596562011-01-06T14:41:00.060-05:002011-03-22T18:30:36.429-04:00Someone Else's Song- GClair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/TSfe7dB6ggI/AAAAAAAAC4M/JESvAOn7WYU/s1600/new-years.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/TSfe7dB6ggI/AAAAAAAAC4M/JESvAOn7WYU/s400/new-years.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559657377998471682" /></a><br />I slid along the Avenue until I reached your place<br />I must admit I'd had a few but longed to see your face<br />The steps were barely salted, and I cursed them as I fell<br />and peppered my possessions on the sidewalk iced from hell.<br /><br />Face down upon the Avenue I breathed the cold of night<br />and realized to my surprise my hip had twisted right<br />And not a soul was present to raise me from the dread<br />no, not a one to hear my cries or anything I said.<br /><br />Chorus: <br />And never I've felt so foolish, though I've been a fool before<br />and every time I've done me wrong I'm lying on the floor<br />if maybe Someone Else's song will save them from their grave <br />I'll take the shame on New Years Eve if just one soul I save!<br /><br />Well it's been my vain conception that I'm good in any storm<br />I'm graceful, no deception, all my landings, perfect form <br />pride reserved an answer for the blasted state I'm in<br />"only New Years Eve will bring out all the things I've never been."<br /><br />I laid upon the Avenue, each minute like an hour<br />and I prayed that God was having you come down from your high tower.<br />to find me there, an old time square without a new years ball<br />much better to be found alive than not be found at all.<br /><br />Chorus:<br />And never I've felt so foolish, though I've been a fool before<br />and every time I've done me wrong I'm lying on the floor<br />if maybe someone else's song will save them from their grave <br />I'll take the shame on New Years Eve if just one soul I save!<br /><br />Well It must have been near midnight, turned my head to hear the riff<br />distant music on the river and my mind began to drift<br />when something kicked my ankle like the tip of someone's shoe<br />could it be the boot of heaven checking if my soul was due?<br /><br />I'd landed near a tire, whose tread was laced with snow <br />which buried in the mire, had nowhere else to go<br />and glimpsing my reflection in the hub which shined like new<br />I witnessed my deliverance, the light of God, it's true!<br /><br />Chorus<br />And never I've felt so foolish, though I've been a fool before<br />and every time I've done me wrong I'm lying on the floor<br />if maybe someone else's song will save them from their grave <br />I'll take the shame on New Years Eve if just one soul I save!<br /><br />From somewhere deep inside the smokey bellows of my ire<br />a verse from someone else's song which rose up like a choir<br />Is it you my sweet beloved, come to raise me from my plight?<br />for I've fallen in my drunken state this cold dark News Years Night.<br /><br />And what have we beheld here, a woman in the snow<br />her hip looks out of socket though her face is all aglow<br />they rushed me to the hospital and just in time for tea<br />which warmed the cockles of my heart and thawed my love for thee.<br /><br />Chorus: <br />And never I've felt so foolish, though I've been a fool before<br />and every time I've done me wrong I'm lying on the floor<br />if maybe Someone Else's song will save them from their grave <br />I'll take the shame on New Years Eve if just one soul I save!<br /><br />My coconut is hollow but I've artichoke to spare<br />and the roads I chose to follow often lead to cupboards bare<br />I've made the best of nothing 'til the nothings left me cold<br />and filled my chest with stuffing out of fear of growing old.<br /><br />All these years I've been a sinner, running circles, chasing youth,<br />with my hair as gray as winter, I come face to face with truth <br />Lying flat out on the sidewalk on that News Years Eve from hell<br />I learned to trust correction and I hope you're doing well.<br /><br />Chorus:<br />And never I've felt so foolish, though I've been a fool before<br />and every time I've done me wrong I'm lying on the floor<br />if maybe Someone Else's song will save them from their grave <br />I'll take the shame on New Years Eve if just one soul I save!<br /><br />I'm singing someone Else's song, for me it's not that true<br />I don't get drunk on New Years Eye and rarely think of you<br />If one day you should meet me on the street where you might live,<br />be sure to wave and greet me if you've got the time to give!!!<br /><br />And never you'll feel so foolish, though you've been a fool before<br />and every time you've done you wrong you're lying on the floor<br />if maybe Someone Else's song will save you from you grave <br />then take the shame on New Years Eve, if just your soul you save!Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-70549605312460986542010-12-28T09:36:00.001-05:002010-12-28T09:46:34.348-05:00Zzz the Day- G Clair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/SSnfQx8NyXI/AAAAAAAAB-g/Bo4u3Bk5CLg/s1600-h/441433719_99c49f2f44.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/SSnfQx8NyXI/AAAAAAAAB-g/Bo4u3Bk5CLg/s400/441433719_99c49f2f44.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271990318190676338" /></a><br />Zzz the day<br />Let's let this one get away<br />it's okay,<br />gave our best to yesterday<br />overtime<br />never was my cup of tea<br />yet they squeeze<br />press the very best of me<br />piling on the sugar now<br />promising the moon and now<br />complaining drains<br />life's pleasure out of me<br />gimmee z.<br /><br />Skim the soup<br />otherwise we'll get too fat<br />trim the sails<br />and I'm off to where you're at<br />winter winds<br />sting my chin and mess my hair<br />better stay<br />wrapped in cozy blankets here<br />icy patches forming<br />on the windows, we lay warming<br />under covers, unaware<br />nothing bothers, not a care<br />let the phone ring <br />when in doubt<br />never mind, <br />I'm calling out<br /><br />Stay up late<br />watching oldies on TV<br />lick the plate<br />leave it on the floor for me<br />it's okay,<br />make another can of soup<br />take a bath<br />and then shower off the bloop<br />wasting water, wasting time<br />waste not want not<br />never mind<br />let the toilet run and find<br />everything will <br />wait for you <br />you'll see~<br />catch your z<br />wait for me.<br /><br />one more day to go around<br />nothings lost<br /> but somethings found<br />the buzzing fan's <br />a welcome sound<br />draw the blinds<br /> cause no one's gonna call<br />after allGinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1028675743926371690.post-30700316380062490982010-12-22T18:27:00.002-05:002010-12-22T18:33:11.284-05:00take the shame! G-Clair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/TRKKbppDH5I/AAAAAAAAC2k/Kcg9B7x25uc/s1600/hello%2BKitty%2Bflats.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 199px; height: 299px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l5f9bPfA4Eo/TRKKbppDH5I/AAAAAAAAC2k/Kcg9B7x25uc/s400/hello%2BKitty%2Bflats.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553653498140368786" /></a><br />My sister sent some money 'cause things had gone to hell<br />She said, "You don't belong there Honey, a trip home will do you well."<br />On a three day smelly bus ride away from what had been obscene<br />turned my nose to New York City where the air was fresh and clean.<br /><br />Pulled into Central Station, a different kind of highland<br />was met by my dear sister, a castaway on Gov'nors Isand.<br />Being broke was half the trouble,and we played it like a game<br />but the nasty shoe debacle, well it made me take the shame.<br /><br />I didn't know quite what to do, but I knew I had a job,<br />a suit of hounds-tooth off 'The Give', and my hair cut in a bob.<br />The suit was fitting perfectly, for shoes we found some flats<br />pink with silver circled cut-outs, kind of clownish without spats.<br /><br />Well I stood there in a laugh-cry, 'cause my job was in the city<br />I gotta make these babies black or be lookin' 'Hello Kitty'.<br />So she gets that strange expression, perhaps as from the Lord<br />In an empty apartment down the hall was some paint for the old baseboard.<br /><br />We laughed the night we dipped the shoes,laughed until we cried<br />And early the next morning, it seemed the paint had dried.<br />You could see that they were shiny and ready for the weather<br />and from an eyeball's distance they could pass for patent leather.<br /><br />I was ever careful as I slipped my stockinged toes<br />into brand new 'hello baseboard' shoes and no-frills tailored clothes.<br />Mincing along, but gingerly I hopped aboard the ferry<br />missed the bus to Beekman, in the dark, the walk was scary.<br /><br />Made it the building not a minute did I lose<br />I tidied up my hair and then I glanced down at my shoes...<br />Blasted bloody got 'em muddy, bits of paper grass and sand<br />I heard my toes scream out, "Hey, buddy, for shoes, tar paint is banned!"<br /><br />Quickly then I kicked 'em off and tried to wipe 'em clean<br />but every little thing unstuck took off the tacky sheen.<br />I did my best to conceal a sob but had to pay my dues<br />as more than one allergic snob caught sight of battered shoes.<br /><br />I tried to blacken out the pink, with a big old magic marker<br />but folks complained about the 'stink', and not a day was darker.<br />At 5 PM, back on the street, with nowhere else to roam<br />my misery was made replete, as I tracked some more dirt home.Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12580122564095777388noreply@blogger.com0