It's Your Music, Let it be
A poem about enjoying whatever music it is that you personally resonate with
They say music can charm the savage beasty boy
I tell you It’s not just a commercial ploy
From 8-track, vinyl, cassette, to CD
So long as Johnny be good, we all shall see
Whether you take a stairway to Heaven or a highway to Hell
Listen to whatever sound rings your bell
Segar, Cash, Garfunkel, Stones
Foreigner or Ozzy may rattle your bones
Jack and Diane can have their little ditty
Some girls may wear a bikini that’s itsy bitsy
The leopard is deaf says guess who
A cougar still sings as a blind melon camps at the zoo
Maybe your arrow smith plays with toys in the attic
While Loretta takes a pill to keep from going frantic
Just keep your eyes open for a sharp dressed man too
So you don’t need a visit from Dr. Hook’s medicine crew
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We’ve seen Jim Morrison open many doors
While smokey chased a bandit bootlegging coors
Roger Miller’s trailer was up for sale for rent
There for four bits you may sleep neath a cool vent
Some have taken a journey to see a foreigner’s jukebox hero
After smashing some pumpkins with a sharp edged zero
Beatles have infested a yellow submarine
While yesterday yet remained a sight unseen
You may put ear to the grapevine to hear a California raisin
While Tony goes to Orlando on a dawn very brazen
You can sip from a whiskey river and watch the delta dawn
As a rhinestone studded cowboy gallops across the lawn
Bob Marley can smoke a doobie with all his brothers
Whilst eagles overfly a hotel in California with the others
It was a three dog night when I met Jeremiah, a friend of mine
While Leroy watched a girl named Doris who looked so fine
Meanwhile, Otis taps his toes on the dock of the bay
Regardless, young rascals are groovin’ come what may
Jimmy’s boiling shrimp down in Margaritaville
While Pancho and Lefty make a stand on a hill
But, If classical is your thing, it’s all smooth and fine
Play Mozart, Bach, Beethoven as you sip some wine
Possibly you enjoy Lawrence Welk and big band shows
Groove to your own thing or each and all of those
Peter pays Paul while Mary puffs the magic dragon
With John who indeed can only imagine
Even the fool on the hill listened to his own private tune
Enjoying the warmth of the sun opposite the dark side of the moon
Floyd placed another pink brick in an interesting wall
While Alice screamed about schools as students ran amuck in the hall
Manilow was at the Copa writing songs that make the whole world sing
While the possum drank heavily after Randy gave his ring a fling
Elvis swayed in blue suede shoes while dealing with a suspicious mind
But the colonel sure knew he had a heck of a find
Inmates at Folsom were feeling quite blue
But the jailhouse rocked when cash was the glue
Freddy went to Mercury and brought home a queen
Elton had a flair the world had never seen
Cher brought men around to see gypsies, tramps, and thieves
While Jackie had a puff, frolicking in autumn leaves
Terry played jacks during seasons in the sun
As wailin' outlaws headed to Texas from Tennessee on the run
C W slid into a convoy carrying rubber ducks and a teddy bear
Headed out to a cool place near Scarborough fair
It’s possible you may prefer to listen to the sounds of silence
But even outside, crickets in the holly provide musical guidance
I remember a nicely toned carpenter who gave some advice
To just sing, sing a a song, let others worry about Miami vice
Maybe you enjoy going out to swan lake
To see girls in tutus turn daintily on toes that ache
As for me, I’ll go to Denver with John or down Georgia with Charlie
Say hey to my old buddy Jude, perhaps on a Harley
We’ll meet up with Don and eat some American pie
At Alice’s Restaurant as we pray and hope the music doesn’t die
There are millions of artists, singers, players, bands
Slamming drums, keying, strumming with deft hands
-------------------------------Regardless---------------------------------
Whether you dance with the beat to hippety hop hop
Croon with the oldies and bippety bop bop
Or raise the rafters to poppety pop pop
Rhythm blues, rock n roll, metal, jazz, country, swing
Play your own style of funky music till the cowbells ring
All I know - now that this here poem is said, done, and over -
Is we all should roll happily through some crimson and clover
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Stay tuned for further installments. If you enjoy my writing, check out my author page at Amazon.com:
https://www.amazon.com/stores/Andrew-C-McDonald/author/B005MXG90K?ref=ap_rdr&store_ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true
Thanks for reading. :-)
About the Creator
Andrew C McDonald
Andrew McDonald is a 911 dispatcher of 30 yrs with a B.S. in Math (1985). He served as an Army officer 1985 to 1992, honorably exiting a captain.
https://www.amazon.com/Killing-Keys-Andrew-C-McDonald-ebook/dp/B07VM843XL?ref_=ast_author_dp
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Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
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Comments (1)
Hell Yes - there needs to be more of this!