IYAM
(read aloud)
© 2012 by Mario Zecca All Rights Reserved.

Iyam a learner of lexicons
purveyor of creative spawn
a sayer of inventive yarns
inventor of comedic bombs
spouting vernacular phrases
quotable mazes 
malaised dossiers 

Iyam the repartee author
the barker of banter
who bickers and blathers
like a blabbering actor

Iyam brasher and braver
than the braggart that bothers
I take rhetoric 
and play with the shtick
I make sense of it
take the text and do tricks
like a syntax-er of sentences
a linguistic augmenter

I portray 
a soufflé of concepts
but sideways for gourmets
of metaphorical entrees
like a concept fillet dipped in 
essay bouillabaisse

Iyam a brewer a braider 
a textual sayer
a cantor who captures 
the dazzling chatter 
the story outliner
the mis-quoted writer

Iyam a pronouncer of innovation
enunciator of the imagination
condemning this illiterate nation
outraged by the lawyers of banality 
like loiterers shouting profanities
common denominators of low degree

but Iyam the nay-sayer of cliches
and platitude brayers
A heckler of the hackneyed 
the boring trite sayers

Iyam the flaunter of novelty	
attention span chimpanzee
I can express myself verbally
without stuttering obscenities 

Am I out guessing you?
I am not jesting you
I am not testing you
I’m not molesting you
I’m just wrestling with the muse

Iyam the punster of punchlines
the quipster who finds time
to ponder the scribble for signs 
like a scrivener
to skillfully signal
the publishing primer 

Iyam the doodling dreamer
the opponent of schemers
the diatribe dribbler
a rhyming riddler
the oral utterer
of forced dialog guttural 

Iyam the reciter of rhymes
chronicling lines
of the verbal mind that disputes
the rhythm rapper astute

I commune with the runes
write written lampoons 
spoken musical tunes 
written by this buffoon
icon looney tunes
from the witty baboon
are you staying attuned 

Iyam spitting sound pictographs
I give more neck than giraffes
the attack telegraph

Iyam the reporter of rap-zo-dees
the medium messenger
performing the idiom
conforming to none 
but the mental trapezium 
Iyam done.

Hipster Poetry

IYam.MP3

I wanted to write a "real" folk song, one that actually said something. And aside from attaining an ennui associated with folk songs I feel like I have made a statement. Don't give up after the first few lines, its s a good song. Since I am a full time caregiver I am using existing art instead of drawing one for each song.

you for you © 2014 Mario Zecca All rights Reserved.   1/2 

C				   F                    C
Mighty Caesar the Roman made this decree
C                    F                   C
We divide and conquer the enemy
Bb                                     C
This is human nature's sad story	
Bb                            F         C                      
it's you for you—  me for me                  

C					   F                                       C
A Dutch ship sailed to Jamestown from across the sea
C				     F                                      C
with a cargo hold of black folk bound for slavery
Bb                                                             C
the auctioneer called out “you want economy”
Bb 			                          F                     C      
“You just make one payment and the labors free" 

C		                       F                                   C
The humble craftsman was undone by the factory
C			              F                                       C
There is no man who can compete with machinery
Bb                                         C
his price was too high a quality 
Bb 			       F                                C
and now he can't afford to feed his family

C                                 F                                     C
Pinkerton's men fired directly into the striking crowd
C                      F                                        C
The organizers gathered up the hangman shroud
Bb                                                              C
someone threw a bomb and cried out anarchy
Bb                     F                                 C
while Carnegie vacationed down in Italy
Bb                                     C
This is human nature's sad story	      
Bb                            F         C
it's you for you—  me for me

C                              F                    C
Children worked 12 hour shifts in coal counties
C                             F           C
They harness labor by availability
Bb                                                         C
and that's the condition that we don't want to see
Bb 			              F           C
unchangeable human nature’s destiny

Bb                               C
Here is the story here ends the tale
Bb 			   F              C
the truth is the ambitious shall prevail 
Bb                                     C
This is human nature's sad story	      
Bb                            F         C
it's you for you—  me for me


C(add 11) chord  (x33010)

Rough Ones early 2015

You For You.MP3

The strange photo is a concocted work of two photos I blended in Photoshop. This song is suggestive and autobiographically about the present. The lyrics wander from wisdom gained to aspirations and fantasies but keep it real. It was built around the riff that goes through the song. I intend to do a more electrical version of this demo.  Enjoy all cool kitties and cats.

Make Me Want To Meow.MP3

I Can Hardly Believe © 2014 Mario Zecca All rights Reserved.

The foliage is turning leaves falling down              
The robins and sparrows are all headed South  
I am looking at the sky on a cold starry night
out away from the neighbors    and the traffic headlights

I'm coming back from the center I slipped once or twice
I was dreaming up a happy fool's paradise
Now I’m standing at the crossroads surrounded by mists
Wanting something familiar that can never exist            

and I can hardly believe what I’ve done

 The connection is natural its by happenstance
You can't repeat it, there are no second chances
Mama said son don't steal and try not to fight
She told me don’t stay up so late every night     

I find it hard to perform, hard to pretend
I find so many actions that are hard to defend
It’s not what I expected, don't seem to get too much done
I am surrounded and sinking into oblivion    
   
 and I can hardly believe what you’ve done

I wrote a song in a dream I woke up wrote it down
I remembered the lyrics the chords and the sound
I woke up crying from a nightmare I had
You were trying to hurt me you were acting bad

I can hardly believe thoughts that visit my head
I know I'm dying my dreams lying dead
I break the news to myself but it is a little too late
My family's waving at me from the gate			

and I can hardly believe what we’ve done        

I Can Hardly Believe 3.MP3

I wrote this song for my brother. The image is from a humorous college project and although the song is far removed from humor, there is a connection. 

Abandoned child	
no one will listen
no one can feel	
the same condition
Abandoned child	
left all alone
no guidance		
an empty home

Abandoned child
with words unspoken
no one knows
your heart's been broken
Abandoned child
the past is gone
But it's so hard
to carry on

Abandoned child
the skies the limit
So just remember
the end is quick

Abandoned Child.MP3

Somethings Burning © 2003 Mario Zecca All rights Reserved.

Somethings Burning late in the night
The babies crying but he's staying out of sight
There's no use trying to find out or make believe it will be alright 
I got a brand new recipe but I didn't watch it carefully
now Somethings Burning

Somethings Burning out of control
I can turn on the machine but then I lose my soul
Don't know where to turn next got to take small steps heel to toe
I cooked up a recipe now it's got a hold on me
Somethings Burning

Somethings burning it stings my nose
better call the firemen, the ladder and the hose
I didn't always do what I was supposed to
I got a secret recipe no one knows it not even me 
Somethings Burning

Somethings Burning.MP3

I wrote this song for a talent show and of course it was partially inspired by "Dead Skunk." by loudon wainwright iii. I drew the picture for posting here with the song.

Possum Pudding

This song took a while to come together. It is a bit pessimistic or nihilistic I guess. It is just the way I perceive things once in a while. I did the drawing for posting here with the song.

Unknown Laws of Physics

Tower Of Babel.MP3

I cringe at some of the things that happen in this song. Being all the musicians and singer on top of writing the song and then recording a multi-track before software that plays all the parts for you is my only excuse. That and being sloppy. 
I started playing music seriously in Oklahoma and the country music from back then is still an influence as it is on all the new country music. This song is old school country, sort of satirical and a little off key!

Crying

I wrote this song for my mother before she passed away. I did the artwork about 7 years ago. The central figure is my mother as a girl. My youngest brother who spent 10 of his first 12 years struggling with a kidney disease is the small dark figure to the right.

Alright Maria.MP3

Here is another I recorded about 20 years ago. I wrote it and play all the instruments and do the vocals with a slight tribute to those rock and R&B songs I grew up with. The art work, "Kissapiens" 2012 pencil,  is a drawing I did at a show in NYC.

When We're Close Together

This is another one from the far past in a galaxy far away. I am as usual playing all the parts except for a tambourine played by the talented and now departed Bruce Morrison.

Love You In My Dreams

I wrote a song on a toy keyboard and a year later I was performing in a coffee house in Oklahoma, across the Texas Panhandle and informal gatherings to Berkeley California where I became a street musician. I often changed my artistic mediums from music to visual art, video performance in grad school, miniature sculpting years later. Many years later I was managing  coffee houses in New York, but my real involvement with music is the creative process of song writing. I still move back effortlessly between music, spoken word, prose and visual art.

Mario Zecca

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