do we want to know what’s behind
it - it the show, the drama, the comedy, the crown?
roll the tape, blind us
to the truth of the goofs
snapping turtles, caramel
the lines deceased
irreverence released
do you want to fall behind
the line, congo style
playing the bongos
on air, blowing off steam
Ricky’s loving
her deep red hair
henna is just a trick
he does tricks
morality took a leap, why
the dial into sleep?
David’s herding, no one heard
the sheep.
the bees buzzing
the birds whatzing
the show a go go
look on tape
to see what you believe
no one
in tv land is dressed in virtue
it’s a really big shoe
Ed Sullivan’s size
throw the curtain
don’t look behind the curtain
memorize the lines
even prairie lines
so sweet and innocent
don’t analyze
you’ll be disappointed
don’t buy the book
it’s not done by the book
there’s a cover for a reason
don’t meet the action figures
they don’t bend
you can pop their heads off
they’re not worth
a million dollar man
Farrah Fawcett wouldn’t give
him an eye
it’s rich
his life’s unreal
roll the real
world
AFTER THE PARTY
After the party I awoke on a desert island
At least I thought so, with the blinding sun
And a view of all those swaying palm trees
Well, perhaps it was me who was swaying
My head was thumping as if bongos playing
And wet with sweat at over eighty degrees
I guess that last night must have been fun
But just where I am now, I don’t understand
Perhaps it’s the Tahitian picture on the wall
And the bright morning sun is streaming in
I am wearing my underpants front to back
Probably a game, or a sort of joke on me
But is that the ocean out there that I can see
Maybe it was daybreak before I hit the sack
So many cocktails made with pink hued gin
It’s such a pity I cannot think straight at all
There’s still noisy laughter outside in the hall
Just the usual cheap upper floor motel room
It may be my own, I suppose I should check
My mouth is so dry and my head is spinning
Have I been drunk from the very beginning
But is this a floral garland around my neck
It can only be my vivid imagination, I assume
I’m not on an exotic tropical island after all
Do you think Pharts are Phunny
Do you shake hands, hug or play bongos
If a fellow employee pukes in their cubicle
Do you…puke also
…run away
…gag until useless
…get a waste basket in case they go again
…summon the Janitor/custodian
…ask what they had for lunch
…measure the splatter radius
…Quit – because that stink will always be there
When you sneeze
Do you…sneeze into your hand
…wipe it on your pants
…restrain it and cause possible brain hemorrhage
Have you ever
…eaten an oyster
…in the wading pool of an Aquarium
Essay Question
…What do you do if you find half a worm in your apple
They call themselves the Blues Brothers
This does not sound bad said GeeWilliger’s mothers
He had two, a regular one and a step.
They liked the idea of two dogs with pep.
The Blues Brothers came in wearing shades and strumming.
One began on the bongos, it was rather loud drumming.
“hit it!” yelled one, and they began a wild boogie with blues.
I was so excited then that I kicked off my shoes.
They were every bit as good as the other Blues Brothers.
Which other ones? Asked GeeWilliger’s mothers.
He rolled his eyes and gave me a pleading look right then.
I was now dancing and frolicking, these dogs were a win!
Lee is a beatnik all right, the seventy year olds agreed
he was lying in the grass, playing bongos next to his weed
as chill as we had ever seen Maynard on Dobie Gillis too
We was singing a weird slow song, name I had no clue
what do we do with him? someone wanted to know
Do we ask him to leave? Will he be complaint and go?
it would not hurt any of you to take a hint from Chet one said.
You are mostly Type A’s, could you try to be C’s instead?
I wanted to try, so I sat down and began humming a song.
The others tried to stop me, for my singing voice is wrong.
Then I began to drum, but a rhythm does not come from me.
I finally read a book, sitting next to the beatnik, Lee.
"In a Silent Way"
The blackness screams;
The light is a mime;
How is it that my mind dreams;
Of those audios, things;
Just aren’t real folded ears;
Music plays dissipates;
Trumpet cries out
Tri tat tra tat tat tat toot
What’s the used Desmond’s horn;
Can’t keep up with the flow
Drummers beat, tapping feet;
As the music plays on N on;
Listen to the bongos and congas;
Repertory beat the rhythm
Of the concert follow first
Back to the new verse
The blackness screams;
The light is a mime;
How is it that my mind dreams;
Of those audios, things;
Just aren’t real folded ears;
Music plays dissipates;
8/20/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
But Cuba does not have blue-eyed men, they have brown.
Well he is lively and fun a drummer who knows how to get down.
Are you sure he is from Cuba? Oh, yes, and he just came to town.
I went to watch him on the bongos, wearing my favorite purple gown.
You have such a sparkle, a pizzazz, and a lovely sound!
He appreciated me. Said “Guess I’ll see you around.”
Such a gentleman in this town is rarely found.
And believe it or not, his band had a terrific sound!
Mid 60's brother's band
I am a gloved "scab" on bongos and
helter skelter on county fair drums
They play their backyard hearts out
my summer of learning all instruments
Music, playing parties of various venues
two lifelong brotherly loves.
Thanks Denny.
Ricky Ricardo,
handsome talent of the Tropicana show.
serious, he cracks the whip, practices -
his bongos distract us.
Lucy,
his fiery red-headed wife - we
follow her madcap schemes,
her showbiz dreams.
Fred,
dumpy, grumpy, nearly dead
except he comes alive with dance -
far-fetched romance.
Ethel,
the love of his life? Well…
a partner in dance. Lucy’s sometimes friend.
They always make up in the end.
Little Ricky,
bongo player — itty bitty
show stealer. Not a natural son,
Keith’s not credited but the golden ticket, he won!
I Love Lucy
gets along famously,
handles the trite matters
of life. Laughter on a silver platter.
9/5/2021
Sickening sweet smell of marijuana
A young guy with a super grin playing bongos
I had never seen that in real life, just on Dobie Gillis.
Come on up! My free-minded cousin said.
There were beds, but they were occupied.
I did not know people sleep during the day.
Being from the Midwest, this was all new
Are these your roommates? I asked her.
Just people, she told me.
I changed into my swimming suit,
Because I was in San Francisco,
And I thought there would be a beach
Someone started a sing-along in the living room.
I was intrigued; this was freedom I had never seen.
We’ll swim tomorrow, my cousin promised.
We never got to the beach
But I saw S Street
And I met real hippies
I found out my zodiac sign
And I learned I have gold in my eyes.
Someone called me an old soul.
It was 1968 I was sixteen.
And it was enough.
I am going to be the next Dr. Suess.
I can make things rhyme at the turn of a goose.
I am terrific at shaking people loose
Stand back man, I am enjoying my juice.
Hold up! Maybe Tim Burton is more my style.
Lurking around with skeletons making fun of Santy Claus.
I have sarcasm in my soul every once In a while.
I will be a cartoonist, showing off at my mother’s ma’s.
Hey! Is that a guitar? Let’s give it a go.
Next I will learn how to play a piano.
A musician is what I shall be.
Maybe carrying bongos, yes, that is me!
Are you serious? You think I look like a star?
Well my parents would agree, because they love me so.
A musician, a writer, an actress, why not?
I am not even seventeen, in a web quite uncaught.
I am a talent, for sure. Everyone says.
Merely stating the facts, so do not think I’m being bold.
I will enjoy my artistic life, in every single way
Because I want to experience everything before I am old.
Lucy and Ricky had a television show
She was hilarious with Ethel and Fred
Her vita vita vegimen and chocolate delight
Made everyone laugh all night
Ricky was a cabana singer
Who played bongos on the Lucy show
He could never figure out what Lucy was up to
Until the end of the I Love Lucy show
full title: Louisiana Saturday Night Special: If You Want To Play In Texas Then Come Here Devil Fiddling Sticks By The Bank Of The Crik
Sweet Sat-Owl-Day Night
1015 EST (1115 Central) Chicago
Drip, drip from the tap ahh' my
Feet, Hands, Head, Knees, Fists
Chyeahh! I can play the tambor
I used to f&g it up like a Titan
Back in the hills of the highlands
Yo, we're two hard mother thumpers
Yo, we're two hard mother thumpers
Back in the hills of the highlands
I used to f&g it up like a Titan
Chyeahh! I can play the tambor
Feet, Hands, Head, Knees, Fists
Drip, drip from the tap ahh' my
1015 EST (1115 Central) Chicago
Sweet Sat-Owl-Day Night
{in the style of a 16-liner]
translated: Sweet, I sat all day night; 1015 EST (1115 Central Standard Time); Drip drip drip from the tap; ahhhhhhhhhh! my feet hands heads knees fist
Chyeahh! I can play the tambor drums bongos like joe and the king manu chao
I used to fun it up like a Titan back in the highland hills of old san anto's alamo
Yay-yo mother if you want to we can sang danzig and mother sound the pearl
DOOM
IMPENDING JOURNEYS
EVER RELENTLESS ONLY
THREE LEGGED PONIES
DOOM
ROCKET SCIENENTIST EMPTY SPACESHIPS
NASA GOT OUT OF THE BUSINESS
DOOM
MANKIND'S DISOBEDIENT
HOLOGRAPHIC TEMPER TANTRUMS
SCARLET ALIENS PLAYING BONGOS
CONA'T NO ANIMALS MATCH THEM
PERJUDICE THE GAY WORLD TRYING TO EMPHASIS THE BLACK STRUGGLE
WHILE STILL KEEPING SAME VIEW IN A BOTTLE
DOOM
GOD'S NOT HAVING THIS
THIS IS WHY IT'S CLOSER YET
THESE ENDS OF TIMES
OF YOURS AND MINDS
DOOM
IMPENDING, ROOMS VACANCIES
DOOM
TERRORISMS
ROOMS
3D TELEVISION
DOOM
HOW SOON
DON'T BLINK
DOOM
WHEN IT COMES DOWN TO FEAR
GIT IT OUT OF HERE
DON'T WINK
DON'T EVEN DRINK THE WINE IN THE ROOM
JESUS IS... COMING
SOON
DOOM
NOT ON MY WATCH
WHO TURN BACK THE CLOCK
PUT DOWN THE ROCK
KEEP THAT IN STOCK
DON'T WINK YOUR EYE
WHY YOU CRY
LORD, MAKE THE DEVIL STOP
THIS IS WHAT....
DOOM
02/28/10
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
So much for my ideas of slowing down,
Taking it easy just sitting watching TV.
I moved to a peaceful seaside town,
Since then I have found a few things occupy me.
I play bridge at least three times every week,
Read poems with a group on Thursday afternoons,
For extra fun I can find anything I seek
And I can write about it and put it to tunes.
On Tuesday mornings I see my four men
In the U3A song writing group that I run.
They compose their music on my key board and then
I write some words and another song has begun.
The women visit Fridays. We have fun,
Writing rhymes, banging bongos, blow didgeridoos,
Each week there are many things waiting to be done
Bells to shake, guitars to play, so much to choose.
Hairdressers, library, lots of jigsaws to do,
Trips to town, trips to do weekly shopping,
Mah-jong, Scrabble, flower arranging, cooking too,
Tea dances, line dancing from foot to foot hopping.
Each week at the local coffee morning
I get to hear about all that is being planned,
There’s knitting, card making, keep fit and it’s dawning
NO TIME FOR TV I’m too busy, understand!
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