I use words to deepen my observations. All of the following works are © copyrighted. They are the intellectual property of Greg Hoover. If you or anyone you know is interested in licensing one or more written works for use in a compilation, as lyrics in a musical work, synced to video, or some other use, feel free to contact me about an arrangement. But if not, assuming you are curious and literate, simply reading for pleasure is encouraged.
Cotopaxi, Ecuador (summer 2012)
Friday, December 28, 2018
Janis Ian
at seventeen
a literary beauty queen
lovely in her own way
searching for the most poignant words to say
isn't it remarkable
that her moon is still full
and her seas turquoise blue
and you're left wondering how she ever knew
the tv
wasn't where it was meant to be,
at twenty three!
growing old and growing young
counting all the words she's ever sung
so baby, please don't go
there's more we want to know
like a little bird and a lullaby
singing all the way
down the forgotten highway
glowing under the sunrise
in blue jeans and a t-shirt
haunting with your words that heal and hurt
and in peace
a guitar plays and will not cease!
Janis
at seventeen
a literary beauty queen
lovely in her own way
searching for the most poignant words to say
isn't it remarkable
that her moon is still full
and her seas turquoise blue
and you're left wondering how she ever knew
the tv
wasn't where it was meant to be,
at twenty three!
a happy dog and i
it's been a long time since
walking in the primordial woods
hearing the latest news
grabbing girls by the hair
polishing cheap leather shoes
remembering how the day comes undone
watching the setting sun
dripping through the misty rain
soft clouds hanging low
forgetting the mayonnaise
forgetting where to eventually go
a happy dog and i sitting on a fallen log
feeling restful with some love to give
imagining a lady and a life to live
holding her hand
she is holding mine
we're sipping wine
red in the nighttime and white during the day
remembering what else she had to say
looking to our future
shadows on the high stone wall
seeing the wild ravens fly and listening as they caw
wondering about lost arts:
valentine candies eaten like tiny hearts
a top hat and low-rent landlord cries
boyfriends and great-grandmother's pies
my transistor radio playing scratchy sounds of American trash
lost in the middle of the Lincoln tunnel
looking for Mega Millions jackpot cash
reciting Shakespeare and his thoughtful English verse
stuck in both forward and reverse
flying on the busy boulevard
the world in my rear view mirror and traffic noise
second grade recess and rowdy boys
a price tag hanging around our necks
saying NO CASH! please include checks
Louis Armstrong and his drummer keeping the beat
shadows on the empty small town street
looking for my future in a cab, which i grab.
Sunday, December 16, 2018
give me a kiss, baby
i won't take a no or a maybe
give me a gentle squeeze and a warm hug
a little love making on the living room rug
listening to the rain drops fall
soft footsteps coming down the hall
your eyes
filled with the sweetest surprise
all whispers and contented sighs
the music turned low
no where we'd rather be or go
reading poetry from the classical book
giving each other that special look
wine and food
taking a hint getting into the mood.
give me a kiss, baby
i won't take a no or a maybe
give me a gentle squeeze and a warm hug
a little love making on the living room rug.
Wednesday, December 12, 2018
in walked
he was Bud
and out on the dance floor
everyone asked for more.
the sounds filled every head
with what the music Gods said.
all night long
like a beating heart each song
kept pounding away
and no one was asked to pay.
Friday, December 7, 2018
picking up the pieces
like a cheap subway token
no border wall is so tall
it can't be climbed and left for dead
regardless of what the boss man President said
with a blue sky overhead
children continue to play
while their parents pray
among the ruins and poverty dreams,
picking up the pieces, picking new teams
with a blue sky over head
changing colors from blue to red:
a country club lawn
is awakening to a new dawn
of passenger and driver with scolding sounds
in a rush,
making the rounds,
sweeping through rough city streets
slicing prejudice to pass out like candy treats,
like fast food
to quickly inflate a defiant mood!
but remember, the brick fence idea is dumb and should be broken!
like a cheap subway token
no border wall is so tall
it can't be climbed and left for dead
regardless of what the boss man President said
with a blue sky overhead
children continue to play
among the ruins and poverty dreams,
picking up the pieces, picking new teams.
Thursday, December 6, 2018
what Miss Universe said
sitting on my piano bench with a whiskey in hand
sipping one for you
tapping my foot with nothing else to do
touching the sky while romancing the keys
playing guitar with a little gypsy strip tease
the band cranking out the hottest blues
living large outgrowing our baby shoes
reaching into hearts and finding something for everyday fun
lots of Hollywood lovelies and a western setting sun
a bottle of the finest French red
remembering what Miss Universe said
shivering at the sight
reciting poetry in an art house late at night
over and over again until it feels just right
custom written for her ears
erasing all her hesitations and fears:
the joys of life and happiness tears!
here's how it goes man
sitting on my piano bench with a whiskey in hand
sipping one for you
tapping my foot with nothing else to do
touching the sky while romancing the keys
playing guitar with a little gypsy strip tease
the band cranking out the hottest blues
living large outgrowing our baby shoes.
Monday, December 3, 2018
you cannot dance tango alone
like two dogs trying to share a single bone
their bark becomes worse than the bite;
the lazy afternoon becomes the frantic night!
loose women and crazy men fight
spitting on the ballroom floor
"well, you're a dick! but i'm a proud whore!
there's a lot to share, but you're not getting anymore."
the kicks hit where the tender parts rest;
nobody is invited in except for the unwelcome guest
dancing in the street,
no polite company ever wants to stand up and meet
dressed in powder white and speaking neat
"you go your way and i'll go mine!"
feeling so good and feeling so fine
you cannot dance tango alone,
like two dogs trying to share a single bone.
acting like a hell cat flying upside down,
married in a bra strap without a wedding gown,
all the women running around;
all the men reaching for a buck;
they're running undercover but mostly running out of luck;
you cannot dance tango alone,
like two dogs trying to share a single bone
their bark becomes worse than the bite;
the lazy afternoon becomes the frantic night!
loose women and the crazy men fight
spitting on the ballroom floor
"well, you're a dick! but i'm a proud whore!
there's a lot to share, but you're not getting any more."
Jessica in Madrid, Spring 2006

daughter is empowering herself