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It's Your Music, Let it be

A poem about enjoying whatever music it is that you personally resonate with

By Andrew C McDonaldPublished 2 years ago Updated 11 months ago 4 min read
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It's Your Music, Let it be
Photo by Aditya Chinchure on Unsplash

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

-------------------------------------------

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

**********************************************

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. :-)

surreal poetry
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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

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

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Comments (1)

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  • Brenton Fabout a year ago

    Hell Yes - there needs to be more of this!

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