Verses of a Blue Note

The following verses are song/poems from what might be described as a blue period in my life. They were originally songs, roughly written and arranged in bluesy melodies. Those melancholy times were the story of a country boy from the south adjusting to the culture shock of a big northern city in the winter... under the influence, homeless, and looking for intimacy. The "down" days of a person's life are not always necessarily about girls or women, but often are also about direction, orientation, and social interaction.

The verses in quotes and italics that precede each selection are from the song "Sunday Morning Coming Down" by Kris Kristofferson (1970). This being from the same time period, it accentuates the sentiments and imagery that are the theme of the set.

Thinking About Her Used to Make Me Crazy, 'Til It Made Me Blue

“Well I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn't hurt. And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad, so I had one more for dessert. Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt. Then I washed my face and combed my hair, and stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.”

I was writing a story, alone in the night,

And it went on forever, until I had her in sight;

Then a feeling began to grow that I couldn’t let go...

I think the time might have been wrong for singing her song.

~

I was playing a love song and watching her thighs;

She was panting on the inside and batting her eyes.

It was then that I struck that note that stuck in my throat...

I think I held on too long singing her song.

~

'Cause the verses never say what I want them to say;

All those damn little feelings seem to get in the way.

And the lady doesn't see, doesn't hear… she doesn't know

That the lust in me for her doesn't go.

~

I was missing my childhood, surrounded by kids.

I was making no offers, I was getting no bids.

And I may have called out her name, but it wasn't the same…

I just don't feel I belong singing her song.

r. nuñez, 1986

At The Corner of Doubt and Despair

Blue Monkey

“I'd smoked my mind the night before with cigarettes and the songs I'd been pickin'; but I lit my first and watched a small kid playin' with a can that he was kicking. Then I walked across the street and caught the Sunday smell of someone's fryin' chicken; and Lord, it took me back to somethin' that I'd lost somewhere, somehow along the way.”

Funny city, funny people,

Funny me, a part of it all;

Empty pockets, disillusioned,

But I'm having a ball.

And then I think about it…

Lord, I'm down in a hole.

Is there anyone else like you?

Is there anyone else like you?

Is there any other way to save my soul?

~

On the sidewalk, walking sideways,

I get to listen to offers instead.

Someone asks me for a handout,

And I shake and I hang my head.

I think there's something missing,

And it's out of control.

Is there anyone else like you?

Is there anyone else like you?

Is there any other way to save my soul?

~

Little wonder that I'm dreaming,

I've been asleep for so long.

But I wake up, look around me…

Did I do something wrong?

And now I'm out in the open,

On a tightrope without any pole.

Is there anyone else like you?

Is there anyone else like you?

Is there any other way to save my soul?

r. nuñez, 1970

Cold, Hunger, and Desire

Winter Never Goes

“In the park I saw a daddy with a laughin' little girl that he was swingin'. And I stopped beside a Sunday school and listened to the songs that they were singin'. Then I headed down the street, and somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'; and it echoed through the canyons like the disappearin' dreams of yesterday.”

Winter brings the snow

And the longing for a better place to live.

Summer brings the glow

Of a thing inside we want so much to give.

But winter never goes,

And no one ever knows

What I feel.

~

Winter hides the sky

That I look upon to hide an empty gaze.

Did you ever wonder why,

Or did you ever count the endless winter days?

And winter is the guest,

And summer is the quest,

If it's real.

~

I hope I am not dreaming;

I have so much I want to say before the night.

And yet, what does it matter

If I am talking in my sleep or in your sight?

~

Winter, in my mind,

Is like a little girl who's better off asleep.

And can I be so blind...

What was the thing she asked somebody there to keep?

And winter never goes,

And no one ever knows

What I feel.

r. nuñez, 1970

Unanswered Supplications

The Social Flux

“On a Sunday morning sidewalk, I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned; 'cause there's something in a Sunday that makes a body feel alone. And there's nothin' short of dyin' that's half as lonesome as the sound of a sleepin' city sidewalk… and Sunday mornin' comin' down.”

What's become of me?

I don't talk at all the way I used to do.

Something in my life has changed, and if it's true,

Oh, I think it's you.

~

What became of you?

Different from the one I made you out to be,

In the ways about your life that I could see.

Was it really me?

~

Everybody came and ripped away the name

That we tried to hang above the door.

How did we survive? Oh, yes, we're still alive.

But is it like it was before?

~

What became of them…

We were warned about them, was it all a whim?

Who can say, but in the midst of all the fuss,

What became of us?

r. nuñez, 1970