geez Mark. this draws me in and just gets more twisted to the end. subtle at first then stunning at the end. brilliant

original song written and recorded by mary cigarettes

burning bridges that never really mattered

Marche Nordique

Etoile Magique

A walking question mark,
eyes set on a dead Jerusalem,
his right hand pumping
some terrible piston,
up the lane, past the stagnant pond,
into the Norman wood.

We called him Ajax,
and no one knew why.
We ran away in a mockery of fear, 
dared to catch his diamond eye.

Long, thick coat in summertime,
toy sheriff’s badge twinkling,
the bearded nut loped along
the lanes and bridleways,
down through the seventies
into obscurity’s tuneless song.

Some thought he stuck his willy
through the letterbox of a bungalow
containing Scottish children.
The dads of the close
hunted the pervert
in their office shirts, 
found only rumour.

He was pointlessly free,
with a child’s small-change freedom.
Only locked into lonely.
Love: a sex-itch unscratched.

I see him old now,
blanched in a bedsit in hell,
drug-shocked and shaking a fist
at the endless Sunday smell.

TASCAM DR-05

inventing the other

I'm not quite sure where I got the idea for this, it started out as a whimsical poem about autumn turning to winter, and as I wrote I realised that there was a connection between this time of year, the way the weather changes and how the plants are closing down, bits falling away and discarded, similar in some ways to change in a human lifetime, and often it’s the kind of change we don’t really like.  It’s a poem with a duel meaning, so listen and understand it in any way you wish to.  To see the original post for this poem -> http://wordmusing.wordpress.com/2013/12/10/until-winter/

Until Winter (Poetry)

The idea for this poem was inspired by the song Blown Minded by Young Galaxy, combined with a hint of Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, and George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four.  I even borrowed some of the phrases from Nineteen Eighty-Four - I hope George won't mind! ;o)

See the original post on my blog for this poem -> http://wordmusing.wordpress.com/2014/05/10/ministry-of-peace/

Ministry Of Peace (Poetry)

Nothing Lasts Forever (Short Story)

If you want to find out more about the inspiration for this poem please visit my website -> https://wordmusing.wordpress.com/2015/05/09/ideas-are-like-tall-trees/

Ideas Are Like Tall Trees (Poetry)

Jim Croce moved to New York in 1968 to pursue a music career.  New York never felt like home to Jim.  In 1971 he returned to a little farm house in Pennsylvania where he wrote so many of his songs.  While leaving New York and sleeping in his car, the sight of New York City's skyline gave him the idea for this song.  Mark and I love this tune.  Thank you Jim Croce for all you music.  Thank you so much to my good friend MARK MAYES.  What a talented singer and songwriter you are

New York's Not My Home (cover)  Featuring Mark Mayes

Thanks to Wayne for inviting me to write some lyrics for his song.  This was a fun tune and I sure enjoy Wayne's music.
Lyrics:
In the morning, when the sun comes up
Sipping coffee from my favorite cup
Wondering what kinda day this day will bring
No time to just lay around
Got to get up and plow some ground(know what I mean)
Don't want to waste your dreams
Dreaming (keep on dreaming)
Thinking(keep on thinking)
My old body seems to be slowing down
It can't keep up with my mind that keeps going 'round
I just do the best I can
I know sometimes life gets hard and rough
That's the time your spirit needs to get tough
Do what you gotta' do don't worry 'bout a thing
Gotta keep those dreams alive
You'll make it, You'll survive
Just do the best you can
Break
You got a whole lot left to say and do
A little old age don't mean it's the end of you
You keep on going 'till the keep on going is gone
No time to just lay around
Got to get up and plant some ground(know what I mean)
Don't want to waste your dreams
Break
Chorus

inventing the other

mark

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