Saturday, August 6, 2011

Hallelujah Anyway

"...it is not the sort of word you can SAY; it is less a word than a name, but as little like a name as the Sun is like a candle-flame. You may hear it if you listen to the Sun, but even if you were extra mad or had an extra mouth, you would never learn to say it. It must be said for you."


-Patrick Woodroffe

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Insides Outside

You laugh as you say

that you've lived in sin,

and you've lied about all that you've known


But the world falls away

like weathered skin


And the truth

is exposed

like bone

Ramona Black

In a dark and smoky bar

that I've come to call my home,

I spoke with some men

just the other night


They wanted to talk,

so I balanced my tray

and let them entertain me

with what they had to say


They kept calling me back,

and I wanted to stay,

'cause they spoke with a warmness

that softened the place


Two genuine smiles

tattooed 'cross their faces,

but one had a story

of sorrow to tell...


Burt Reynolds and beer,

clink-clank went the done;

and for all he was sane,

he loved singin' her name


He called her Ramona,

and his constinants rolled

like honey-thick romance

off his liquor-wet tongue


He called her Ramona--

his only true love.


And the bar filled with smoke,

in a dreamy fog haze,

and we spoke of the dawn

as the night carried on


Screw all that is sane,

he loved singin' her name;

Ramona, Ramona

'til the morning was young.




-------------

Tomato, Tomatta;

Ramona, Romana.



sing us a song, you're the piano man.