This is a very old song. Inserted here only because the times we are in prompted my memory.
piece d’retirement
At his retirement party, well they handed him a watch
And told him that there was no pension fund
All the lawyer said was that the union had been bled
And some white-collar type was on the run
And he thought about the time, way back in ‘89
When he chickened-out and went against the strike
There was no seniority, just three kids and a wife
And he thought, well this kinda serves me right
So he got up the next morning, ran the sweeper round the house
An’ headed for the cafe for some brunch
As he sat there watchin’ people watch cholesterol counts
He remembers when they used to call it lunch
And he thinks on all the blessings and all of the cliche
That come with the territory of old age
And wonders if it’s not too late for lightning to strike twice,
Grant him wealth and wisdom, and a twenty-year-old wife
When life begins at forty and you missed the startin’ gate
What happens when you’re sixty and the rent check’s two weeks late
And the monthly security society provides
Leaves you cleanin’ toilets at Six-Fifty-Five
An hour, a day, a month, a year; life is so much fun
Condemned to drinkin’ decafe and watchin’ ol’ reruns
He savors life’s last bite before retiring for the night
And sits down beside the bed to clean the gun
He sits there in that rocking chair
And carefully begins to clean the gun
© D. Dain, circa 1987(?)
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Since Radio Died
When I was about two or three, my dad would stand me in his lap as he drove the big ol' Dodge toward home after Sunday evening Church. There were three radio towers on the hill above Crab Orchard, WVa, and I was afraid of them. Dad would gently laugh as he described the scene: "You would point up at the flashing lights and say, "the Towes, the Towes (I couldn't do "Rs" yet.). I afaid, I afaid."" Then he would let me hold onto the wheel on the way down the hill.
I'm still afraid, Dad. Just not of radio towers.
This has those towers, a Kristofferson(Stevens/Cash) song and a famous DJ's name in it -- and a sense of loss -- all of it.
Since Radio Died
Used to be there was a man down at the station
Used to be you could call him up and give him your request
Used to be he'd honor dedications
You could count on him to pull you through and always send his "best"
Used to be they kept the signal on location
Now on a real clear night you see the satellite from here
Used to be that tower pointed straight to heaven
And that flashin' light was always on to guard against the fear
(Chorus)
But since radio died I been spendin' my time
Lis'nin' to myself
It's not the singin' that's hard
It's the wishin' that I could do better
Since radio died I been waitin' a while
On things that never come
Dreamin's all but done since radio died
Payola turned to billboard corporations
You Peel it back and see the green all underneath
Sunday Morning Comin' Down Gospel and Salvation
Now it’s talkers, stock reports, wars and Middle East
(Bridge)
And some computer runs rotation from a bunker in LA
It's got a master list and never quits just-a-pushin' crap your way
It's got sixty-four - no room for more, and they all sound the same....
And as you drink, you think "You sad luck sucker, mebbe they'll play your song today."
(Chorus)
But since radio died I been spendin' my time
Lis'nin' to myself
It's not the singin' that's hard
It's the wishin' that I could do better
Since radio died I been waitin' a while
On things that never come
Dreamin's lost its size since radio died
Oh, dreamin's lost its size since radio died
Used to be there was a man down at the station
Used to be you could call him up and give him your request
Used to be he would honor dedications
You could count on him to pull you through
You could count on him to pull you through
Count on him to pull you through...
© D. Dain, 1999.
I'm still afraid, Dad. Just not of radio towers.
This has those towers, a Kristofferson(Stevens/Cash) song and a famous DJ's name in it -- and a sense of loss -- all of it.
Since Radio Died
Used to be there was a man down at the station
Used to be you could call him up and give him your request
Used to be he'd honor dedications
You could count on him to pull you through and always send his "best"
Used to be they kept the signal on location
Now on a real clear night you see the satellite from here
Used to be that tower pointed straight to heaven
And that flashin' light was always on to guard against the fear
(Chorus)
But since radio died I been spendin' my time
Lis'nin' to myself
It's not the singin' that's hard
It's the wishin' that I could do better
Since radio died I been waitin' a while
On things that never come
Dreamin's all but done since radio died
Payola turned to billboard corporations
You Peel it back and see the green all underneath
Sunday Morning Comin' Down Gospel and Salvation
Now it’s talkers, stock reports, wars and Middle East
(Bridge)
And some computer runs rotation from a bunker in LA
It's got a master list and never quits just-a-pushin' crap your way
It's got sixty-four - no room for more, and they all sound the same....
And as you drink, you think "You sad luck sucker, mebbe they'll play your song today."
(Chorus)
But since radio died I been spendin' my time
Lis'nin' to myself
It's not the singin' that's hard
It's the wishin' that I could do better
Since radio died I been waitin' a while
On things that never come
Dreamin's lost its size since radio died
Oh, dreamin's lost its size since radio died
Used to be there was a man down at the station
Used to be you could call him up and give him your request
Used to be he would honor dedications
You could count on him to pull you through
You could count on him to pull you through
Count on him to pull you through...
© D. Dain, 1999.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Be No Cushion....
Be No Cushion
There is darkness on the edge of our time
Along the line of our horizon
Under the smoke-rise we see them
Standing In the tongues of flame
There is a family resemblance
Sadness grabs our hearts
Barney, you must go now and tell Andy
Mayberry is dead
No more sleepy hair-cuts
Slow talks on slower golden
Afternoons
On a bench outside
A door that doesn't open
Anymore
Oh dear Barney
Times are such
Just one bullet may not do...
Laughing at that screaming little
Preacher in the pulpit
Waving his ancient Book around
"Crazy" don't mean maybe
Look NOW TIME IS and Hope
May not be found
And Love will be no cushion, be no cushion
When times get hard
Love will be no cushion, be no cushion
And we fall and find how far...
The wise are with us always as they point out
That the sky has never fallen
Or wolf knocked at that door
They pity us; our simple songs
Our Father's bless'd Tradition
Curses flying from their mouths
Bound up in all their science
Yet still so unprepared
We beg them to come home
And Love will be no cushion, be no cushion
When times get hard
Love will be no cushion, be no cushion
We fall and find how far...
(Repeat 2nd Verse - "Barney..." and Chorus)
There is darkness on the edge of our time
Along the line of our horizon
Under the smoke-rise we see them
Standing In the tongues of flame
There is a family resemblance
Sadness grabs our hearts
Barney, you must go now and tell Andy
Mayberry is dead
No more sleepy hair-cuts
Slow talks on slower golden
Afternoons
On a bench outside
A door that doesn't open
Anymore
Oh dear Barney
Times are such
Just one bullet may not do...
Laughing at that screaming little
Preacher in the pulpit
Waving his ancient Book around
"Crazy" don't mean maybe
Look NOW TIME IS and Hope
May not be found
And Love will be no cushion, be no cushion
When times get hard
Love will be no cushion, be no cushion
And we fall and find how far...
The wise are with us always as they point out
That the sky has never fallen
Or wolf knocked at that door
They pity us; our simple songs
Our Father's bless'd Tradition
Curses flying from their mouths
Bound up in all their science
Yet still so unprepared
We beg them to come home
And Love will be no cushion, be no cushion
When times get hard
Love will be no cushion, be no cushion
We fall and find how far...
(Repeat 2nd Verse - "Barney..." and Chorus)
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Three Poems on Judgment....
Three Poems on Judgment
God Has Turned His Back
Mouthing a collection of our vanities;
cribbing off lists from Solomon,
the Preacher on Mom's way-too-loud TV
said that God has turned His back on us.
In days when no one looks much past the bumper,
no side-glances or smiling nods; no eye contact
either for kindred spirit or dispirited bum.
The Town Square, all beautiful trees,
statue and fountain, with the empty Santa's House
surrounded by empty churches;
the cardboard signs at the on-ramp; all of it
might as well not be there.
And while Main Street’s dying, I'm sitting at the stoplight,
looking at the probably pretty girls
turning left across the bow of my old boat.
The sets of three-second frames
total a 30-second movie that could entertain,
but for the hands to ears that spoil the view.
No town square and trees, statue and fountain.
No empty prayers for either Christmas bling or Father Christmas.
Just instant message, voice-mail, call waiting.
And the collection rolls its way up the on-ramp,
past the cardboard "Out to lunch" sign propped against the curb,
facing away from Main Street below.
Green Town, Illinois:
Judgment runs fast
Flying through the dandelions
Catching up
Fate lies in... now - not waiting
Years pass that tow-head boy
And scythes kiss the fields of Illinois
(And they don’t make Cream-Sponge Para Litefoot Tennis Shoes
Not anymore... not even in China)
Midnight Snack
Judgment doesn’t waste time
Writing overwrought obituaries
Or talking sweet memories
Judgment doesn't do morality plays -
At least not from our script
Judgment reads Revelation Chapter Six
Aloud before bedtime
Its midnight snack is the local Rumor Mill.
A quart of wheat and three quarts of barley
The bread of its Dagwood
Our juiciest sins the meat
Our excuses the condiments
The overweight evidence
Of collective, hereditary guilt
Is Judgment's cold milk
The bones stripped bare -
Lying there on the plate
Still accountable
dc - 2008
God Has Turned His Back
Mouthing a collection of our vanities;
cribbing off lists from Solomon,
the Preacher on Mom's way-too-loud TV
said that God has turned His back on us.
In days when no one looks much past the bumper,
no side-glances or smiling nods; no eye contact
either for kindred spirit or dispirited bum.
The Town Square, all beautiful trees,
statue and fountain, with the empty Santa's House
surrounded by empty churches;
the cardboard signs at the on-ramp; all of it
might as well not be there.
And while Main Street’s dying, I'm sitting at the stoplight,
looking at the probably pretty girls
turning left across the bow of my old boat.
The sets of three-second frames
total a 30-second movie that could entertain,
but for the hands to ears that spoil the view.
No town square and trees, statue and fountain.
No empty prayers for either Christmas bling or Father Christmas.
Just instant message, voice-mail, call waiting.
And the collection rolls its way up the on-ramp,
past the cardboard "Out to lunch" sign propped against the curb,
facing away from Main Street below.
Green Town, Illinois:
Judgment runs fast
Flying through the dandelions
Catching up
Fate lies in... now - not waiting
Years pass that tow-head boy
And scythes kiss the fields of Illinois
(And they don’t make Cream-Sponge Para Litefoot Tennis Shoes
Not anymore... not even in China)
Midnight Snack
Judgment doesn’t waste time
Writing overwrought obituaries
Or talking sweet memories
Judgment doesn't do morality plays -
At least not from our script
Judgment reads Revelation Chapter Six
Aloud before bedtime
Its midnight snack is the local Rumor Mill.
A quart of wheat and three quarts of barley
The bread of its Dagwood
Our juiciest sins the meat
Our excuses the condiments
The overweight evidence
Of collective, hereditary guilt
Is Judgment's cold milk
The bones stripped bare -
Lying there on the plate
Still accountable
dc - 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
Wings of the Harleys....
Wings of the Harleys -- John Gorka
Bottles back the bar
Lined up like choirboys
Singing to hide the scars they pour
The Woman there is wise
With a roughened whiskey voice
She’s the one that points you out the door
It’s pinball in the dark
’cause it’s a quarter for the lights
The Woman’s tips are nickels and dimes
Leather when it’s cool
Denim when it’s right
Like tattoos, some things don’t change with time
(Chorus)
It’s the power of the bottle
Oh, the currents flow in here
Where the Wings of the Harleys
All land for shots and beer
And all they ever want
Is to drink their fill alone
Make a little noise
As they head off for home
Some are big and mean
Some are in between
Some don’t care ‘bout nothin’ at all
Nothing but their bikes
And the neon lights
Some will clock you if they hear the call
But it’s not just the drinks
That bring the bikers in
It’s those four walls of freedom they can ring
The Woman there is nice
There’s no chains upon her wings
The only chains they need they bring along
(Chorus)
Ummm…
Bottles back the bar
Lined up like choirboys
Ummm…
Bottles back the bar
Lined up like choirboys
Singing to hide the scars they pour
The Woman there is wise
With a roughened whiskey voice
She’s the one that points you out the door
It’s pinball in the dark
’cause it’s a quarter for the lights
The Woman’s tips are nickels and dimes
Leather when it’s cool
Denim when it’s right
Like tattoos, some things don’t change with time
(Chorus)
It’s the power of the bottle
Oh, the currents flow in here
Where the Wings of the Harleys
All land for shots and beer
And all they ever want
Is to drink their fill alone
Make a little noise
As they head off for home
Some are big and mean
Some are in between
Some don’t care ‘bout nothin’ at all
Nothing but their bikes
And the neon lights
Some will clock you if they hear the call
But it’s not just the drinks
That bring the bikers in
It’s those four walls of freedom they can ring
The Woman there is nice
There’s no chains upon her wings
The only chains they need they bring along
(Chorus)
Ummm…
Bottles back the bar
Lined up like choirboys
Ummm…
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
When Fear Follows
I've never really been able to understand the concept of "necessary evil". I realize that there are people out there (a certain VP, for-instance) who use it as an excuse, needed for "our protection", but doesn't it just come down to "evil'? And how is that necessary?
When Fear Follows
Unsung heroes lost from memory
Returning home unwanted history
When fear follows retreat is impossible
From the Trojan Horse within
Guns and bombs cannot compare
To the danger of the soul’s despair
And the cost cannot be counted
By those who were not there
Take the sons of a nation
Following their flag
Watch them return home, again
In a body bag
When fear follows retreat is impossible
From the frozen corpse within
And economies can prosper
Without wars we do not win
(Chorus)
To the danger of the soul’s despair
And the cost cannot be counted
By those who were not there
When fear follows retreat is impossible
From the Trojan Horse within
And the necessary evils
Mark everywhere we’ve been
(Chorus)
© D. Dain, 1996.
When Fear Follows
Unsung heroes lost from memory
Returning home unwanted history
When fear follows retreat is impossible
From the Trojan Horse within
Guns and bombs cannot compare
To the danger of the soul’s despair
And the cost cannot be counted
By those who were not there
Take the sons of a nation
Following their flag
Watch them return home, again
In a body bag
When fear follows retreat is impossible
From the frozen corpse within
And economies can prosper
Without wars we do not win
(Chorus)
Home againGuns and bombs cannot compare
Fear follows, even here
Comfort sings, let freedom ring
Oh, take comfort in your fears
To the danger of the soul’s despair
And the cost cannot be counted
By those who were not there
When fear follows retreat is impossible
From the Trojan Horse within
And the necessary evils
Mark everywhere we’ve been
(Chorus)
© D. Dain, 1996.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Toward Home
Insecurities abound, it seems. I always try to have enough gas in the jeep to make it home without stopping. Just in case....
Toward Home
Fog is layin' on the trees
Sun is swingin' low
Took my time a-gittin' here
Headed back as fast as I can go
And I’ll be feelin’ fine
and load it out my mind
Soon as I catch sight
Of that Hocking County line
‘cause 'I’m jus’ workin’ toward home
Work my way on down this road
‘til I can pull into the drive,
See my baby’s smile, and tuck into her arms
Dog sniffin’ on the tires
Checkin’ out jus’ where I been
They don’t tell time the way we do
But I’m more like them, than I’m like you
‘cause in the mornin’ when I go
Get jus’ ten miles off the farm
It’s already been a long, long while
An’ I jus’ wanna turn aroun’
But I got ninety more to drive
Then ten hours on the job
An’ it wears its way real thin
But lookin’ back on where I been
Love and Love's been on my side
(Chorus)
An’ I don’t know why
But I’m more connected all the time
Can’t stray too far
From my baby’s arms
An' everything is fine
take a load right off my mind
Soon as I catch sight
Of that Hocking County line
It’s another do and die
You push the good on thru the bad
Might be 'nother damn cliché, but one fine sunny day
I’ll turn it ‘round and take it home
One fine day,
I’ll do it right and stay
(Chorus)
An’ I’m jus’ workin’ toward home
Work my way on down this road
‘til I can pull into the drive, see my baby’s smile
And fold into her arms
Dog sniffin’ on the tires
Checkin’ out jus’ where I been
They don’t tell time the way we do
But I’m more like them, than I’m like you…
I’m more like them
© Daniel Dain, 2006.
Toward Home
Fog is layin' on the trees
Sun is swingin' low
Took my time a-gittin' here
Headed back as fast as I can go
And I’ll be feelin’ fine
and load it out my mind
Soon as I catch sight
Of that Hocking County line
‘cause 'I’m jus’ workin’ toward home
Work my way on down this road
‘til I can pull into the drive,
See my baby’s smile, and tuck into her arms
Dog sniffin’ on the tires
Checkin’ out jus’ where I been
They don’t tell time the way we do
But I’m more like them, than I’m like you
‘cause in the mornin’ when I go
Get jus’ ten miles off the farm
It’s already been a long, long while
An’ I jus’ wanna turn aroun’
But I got ninety more to drive
Then ten hours on the job
An’ it wears its way real thin
But lookin’ back on where I been
Love and Love's been on my side
(Chorus)
An’ I don’t know why
But I’m more connected all the time
Can’t stray too far
From my baby’s arms
An' everything is fine
take a load right off my mind
Soon as I catch sight
Of that Hocking County line
It’s another do and die
You push the good on thru the bad
Might be 'nother damn cliché, but one fine sunny day
I’ll turn it ‘round and take it home
One fine day,
I’ll do it right and stay
(Chorus)
An’ I’m jus’ workin’ toward home
Work my way on down this road
‘til I can pull into the drive, see my baby’s smile
And fold into her arms
Dog sniffin’ on the tires
Checkin’ out jus’ where I been
They don’t tell time the way we do
But I’m more like them, than I’m like you…
I’m more like them
© Daniel Dain, 2006.
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