Home

Statue of Jesus and Other Writings

3607 views

15 posts

Last post 18/02/2019

Posted by SusyLuvsPaul

      Original post

      Inspired, kind of, by McCartney's "Cafe on the Left Bank" in which he describes part of Paris, I'm describing part of my neck of the woods, in the woods, recall "Penny Lane" too about that colorful busy street in Liddypool. Not that my effort is on a par with Paul's (laughs) !

      Statue of Jesus (working title)

      A statue of Jesus, lit up at night
      across from some countryside trash dumpsters
      shines by day too with benevolent light
      but just down the way
      lie long low vast holding shelters for
      chickens--some are for hogs--
      I dread to think of their plight,
      not pampered and loved like pet
      cats and dogs
      but fattened up for the kill
      all crowded in together so tight,
      set back much too far in fields
      for their sad cackles and squeals
      to convey their pain and fright--
      I saw a cow look both ways
      before crossing the road,
      and thought cows must not really be dumb--
      round that curve is a long road
      where moonshiners plied their unlawful trade,
      and a creepy-looking part goes down
      to the ancient black water river
      used to be called "Drowning Creek" where its
      deep murky waters were plumbed
      and many a ghost was made,
      many went mad or blind from
      the perilous poisonous moonshine
      there's the wide golden wheat field
      where a giant wild pear tree was cut down,
      and the winding woods trail that leads
      to a quaint picture book river town
      way, way out in the country
      where most folks talk like a preacher
      Oh how fervently they believe,
      that you'd scarcely be surprised
      when someone suddenly drops to his knees
      and hollers out a passionate prayer,
      "Oh, I'm closer to my God in all this nature and heat,
      but closer still in Heaven
      when you want me, Lord, take me there,
      that will be so sweet."
      Had to turn into a grownup
      before I could really tell
      that even familiar places
      can cast their haunting spell
      --SUSY

        (I used to have a gigantic brown old Monte Carlo with real leather seats, big as a much fancier Elvis cadillac that people laughed at when I drove by in Savannah and Charleston, oddly that car was fun to drive (when I wasn't bumping into something, which happened once or twice, due to its size) and felt like sailing a big boat. You don't really have to be all that ashamed, in the South, if you drive a huge old shabby vehicle, live in a shabby dump, wear cheap clothes, have a crappy job. It's not like you're the only one! (LOL) )

        Big Ol' Car

        wanna get a big ol' Elvis car
        sail slowly round in deep curves of
        these wild lush country lanes,
        though there is no Billy R.
        to seek out dirt side roads
        to sin, and never will be again
        gotta get another road hog ol' car
        big as a whale
        to glide off into sunsets
        and hit the dusty trails
        just me and no thoughts
        seeing wild fast little animals
        whiz by that can't be caught,
        they say you can't catch sight
        of your God
        til' you go down the hardest most lonely road of all--
        (and lose all the treasures that can and can't be bought)
        that so many sore feet have trod--
        they did it, so I can too
        but life, earth, certain people,
        blessed skies and world
        and shimmering hot country roads,
        it's still hard to let go of you
        --SUSY

          The Love That Never Came
          (corny country ditty)

          I ache all over with loneliness
          with nowhere to turn,
          nothing to do but suffer the
          fires of Hell that always burn
          sometimes it feels so sad,
          seeing everyone else find love
          though I'm glad for their happiness and joy
          my palpitating heart was always treated
          like a cheap plastic toy,
          easily smashed in two
          remember that happens to many souls
          and not just to you--
          remember when that boy came back out of the blue
          seeking a second chance?
          and you barely even graced him with a glance
          another love that you never knew
          now you must again go without--
          strong eagles fly alone--
          live with all the doubt,
          pain and shame,
          mournful for the love
          that never came.
          --Susy

            good writing

            thank you for sharing

            "but just down the way
            lie long low vast holding shelters for
            chickens--some are for hogs--
            I dread to think of their plight,
            not pampered and loved like pet
            cats and dogs
            but fattened up for the kill
            all crowded in together so tight,
            set back much too far in fields
            for their sad cackles and squeals
            to convey their pain and fright--
            I saw a cow look both ways
            before crossing the road,
            and thought cows must not really be dumb"

            very good.

            and yes, none of the animals are dumb..
            they just don't speak 'English'..
            hopefully your empathy for them in this writing would inspire others to think about them more caringly as well, and not eat them..

              Thank you so much Rahil

                Meet Me Down by the Cornfield
                (bluegrassy old-timey country tune)

                Saw you down behind the barn the other day,
                sittin' on the pond fishin'
                when I seen you there with the sun in your hair
                I could not help
                wishin'

                (chorus)
                Meet me down by the cornfields,
                meet me down by the pines,
                meet me down by the riverside
                I'll show you a real good time

                Saw you dancin' on the street corner Saturday
                you was singin' and passin' the hat
                singin' swingin' and a-shakin'
                I said I gotta git me some of that

                (chorus)
                Meet me down by the cornfield,
                meet me down by the mill,
                meet me down by the riverside
                honey I'll give ya a thrill

                Saw you hangin' at the pig pickin' Sunday
                you was kissing on Amy Marie,
                I just grinned and said do it again
                someday it's gonna be me

                (chorus)
                Meet me down by the cornfield,
                meet me down by the pines,
                meet me down by the riverside,
                I'll show you a real good time--SUSY

                  Burned Out Agin (Oh Lord)
                  bluegrass ditty

                  I'm burned out again, Oh Lord
                  why must I feel so tired
                  I always have to pay the next day
                  for gittin' loose and wired,
                  some folks well they can party all day
                  turn a somersault all night
                  me I just lay and pray n' chew on hay
                  my shades put on
                  to hide the light

                  burned out agin' OH LORD!
                  darn them powders n' pills!
                  why must we suffer so I'd like to know,
                  from gittin' kicks n'thrills
                  dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee,
                  dee dee dee dee dee dee dee (I forgot those lines)

                  Burned out again oh Lord!
                  Lord have mercy on me--
                  send me on down some rejuvinatin' love
                  send it down C.O.D.
                  if that don't git a rise outa me
                  Lord you know nuthin' will
                  I'll have to face the fact I'm no spring chicken
                  Lord I'm over the hill
                  --SUSY

                    SusyLuvsPaul:Thank you so much Rahil

                    you're welcome

                    go check out http://maccaboard.paulmccartney.com/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?t=85078 when you can also ;)
                    thanks

                    your next 2 are good also

                      Thanks again I can't access videos right now, but when I can, will check out yours, I bet your music is worth hearing

                        you're welcome

                        and thank you

                          Great writing Susy! was just checking them out. Its funny how in that one called Burned Out Again, you actually pull off a sort of street tone to it, not really cheesy, just speaking the truth! good stuff. I liked them all, maybe The Love That Never Came is my fav. you really get to rhyming towards the end of that one

                            thanks so much Kapoo, I dont get "burned out again" from partying anymore LOL but remember how it was!

                              SusyLuvsPaul:thanks so much Kapoo, I dont get "burned out again" from partying anymore LOL but remember how it was!

                              ah the hazy memories

                                New York City Song

                                Merging into New York City,
                                the pine trees and the green were gone
                                some streets are nice,
                                some streets are filthy
                                here it's hard to feel alone
                                I waded through concrete and trash
                                surrounded by longing for cash
                                and lots of flash

                                If you feel your life is boring,
                                you don't know how to laugh
                                or pray
                                you ought to prowl this urban landslide
                                take a bodyguard on the subway
                                in New York you can succeed
                                or lie in an alley and bleed
                                succeed, or bleed

                                A burned out bum was masturbating
                                before the 5th Avenue public library,
                                I wished he'd been on Park Avenue
                                to entertain the haute bourgeois
                                instead of regaling me,
                                and oh that time I found myself
                                somehow in the worst part of the South Bronx and
                                some punks started to threaten me,
                                but I ran and jumped in a taxi that appeared
                                and the cab driver cheated me,
                                it wasn't like a Woody Allen movie

                                Yet the city really moved me
                                with its exuberant teaming diversity
                                and finding money on the street
                                was always really sweet,
                                and meeting and kissing Woody in "Elaine's"
                                made up for a lot of
                                sporadic fearful pain

                                well this all got lost in a
                                convoluted jazzy riff
                                but my words don't mean much,
                                so what's the diff
                                (Art Garfunkel sang
                                "New York, you got money on
                                your mind, and my words don't
                                mean a dime's worth of difference,
                                so here's to you New York")
                                brightest biggest jewel
                                of the North
                                I was from the South,
                                some native New Yawkers seemed
                                enchanted whenever I opened
                                my mouth
                                while to me their accents
                                sounded cute
                                even when unpolished and uncouth,
                                irrepressibly tellin' their rude crude
                                streety truth

                                I caught chronic fatigue syndrome there,
                                my lungs didn't have a prayer
                                but the dread Epstein-Barr went away
                                after a year or so, once back in Carolina
                                out of the frozen winter fray
                                still I sometimes regret leaving there
                                to this very day--
                                I wasn't much of a fighter
                                but in my small humble modest way
                                I'd rather be a Southern writer
                                of the South U.S.A.
                                unlike Joseph Mitchell of
                                The New Yorker mag in the 20's
                                who split from downhome Dixie
                                to fantastically, seemingly
                                miraculously
                                fulfill his intellect, his dream
                                or Thomas Wolfe from Asheville
                                the North Carolina mountains
                                whose poetic pithy prose gushes
                                an eternal amazing fountain
                                inspired by his copious travels, wow,
                                how that wild Wolfe could roam
                                he made beat Jack Kerouac
                                look like a meek stay at home

                                New York City made them want
                                to shake, shimmy and shout
                                but Henry Miller couldn't wait
                                to get out--
                                wanted France to dance his life-lovin
                                hedonistic dance
                                John Lennon loved the city--
                                made him think of the Pool
                                Lennon was always too
                                cool for any school
                                even one in Manhattan--
                                it didn't occur to me to
                                try to meet him there,
                                until it was too late and
                                he'd been felled by madness
                                and murderous hate
                                it was not a night of white satin
                                in New York--

                                in New York you can
                                succeed
                                or lie in an alley and bleed
                                succeed, or bleed
                                some of those Italians
                                had such beautiful faces--
                                I saw some wonderful places
                                in New York

                                and always felt happy in the
                                theater and libraries
                                and in the Bronx Zoo,
                                which should give me a clue--
                                too much "I me mine" in this
                                but I'm just as interested
                                in you
                                and merging into New York City,
                                the pine trees and the green are gone
                                some streets are nice,
                                some streets are filthy
                                here it's hard to feel alone
                                New York's my kinda town
                                makes you feel up and down
                                it was once my kinda town
                                --SUSY
                                jazz song, really jazzy

                                  burp I mean "bump"