Lerner Loser –Haiku

Now Lerner lays low
She takes the Fifth we don’t know
What lies she will tell

Sometimes It’s Best To Leave Well Enough Alone

CHORUS:

Sometimes it’s best to leave well enough alone
Let those sleeping dogs lie and get off the telephone
Shut down the damn computer put it on postpone
Sometimes you got to leave it all alone

———————————————————-
You meet her and you think that it’s a perfect greet
And you talk and you relate and hearts synchronize their beat
The errors show their bearers that the truth cannot defeat
The house of cards now tumbles into rumbles on the street

WiFi in the House of Suds swirls upon the Shore
As guidos in their Speedos consort with Jersey whores
Panties whirl in dryers sixty miles from home
Sadly they do tell the tales of things best left alone

So now I sit here nursing beers writing this here tune
Knowing that I’ve shot my wad and came here way too soon
She invades my vision with faux love and indecision
Trust has fled and been misled by the yearnings of the loon

CHORUS:

Sometimes it’s best to leave well enough alone
Let the sleeping dogs lie and get off the telephone
Shut down the damn computer put it all on postpone
Sometimes you got to just leave it all alone

Frontenac Québécois Blues

Château Frontenac click pic to biggify

The boys from north of the border
They drink Canada beer for fun
And the plowboys down in Vermont
They polish up their guns
And they look across the water
To learn the ways of love

If you love me, say I love you
If you love me, say you do
If you love me, say I love you
If you love me, my heart is yours

So I drank myself some Labatts
And I dreamed I was a cowboy
And I rode across the border
To Le Château Frontenac

Now the weather’s getting colder
It’s even cold down here
And the words that you have told me
Hang frozen in the air
And sometimes I look right through them
As if you were not there

If you love me, say I love you
If you love me, say you do
If you love me, say I love you
If you love me, my heart is yours

The boys from north of the border
They drink Canada beer for fun
And the plowboys down in Vermont
They polish up their guns
And they look across the water
To learn the ways of love

Farm Truck Radio Blues

Jim’s take:  Published a couple years ago, repeated now  in memory of George Jones and the memories his songs have made for me. –JZ

Feelin’ alone need me a friend
Get the farm truck pull out on those gravel roads
Cross through the dust on up to the ridge
Wait for the sunset — twilight’s edge

Searchin’ the old radio for an AM station
Cracklin’ from the heat lightning, fighting heterodyne
WWL from N’Awlins booms through to Vermont
Fighting with the oldies station in Montreal

The Road Gang show sounds like l963
But it sounds like heaven to me
Outta that dashboard comes solid country gold
Hank and Loretta and Pride and Jones
These songs are how I made my bones

Still can’t get her on the cello-phone
Don’t know if she’s workin’, or just not home
Things outta battery, and now it’s on roam
Sitting in this Ford half-ton moanin’ with the radio

Radio fade away
Radio take my troubles away..
I’ll try Tori another day
Right now I’ll just go home slow
Listenin’ to George Jones on  the radio

Moonglow Over Humble

Up along the bookshelves
Down along the stairs
I can see the poetry
We’ve made down through the years

And it makes me blue, baby’
Thinking of the past
And I’m truly sorry
I couldn’t make it last

Watch the Humble moonshine
Cry the tears, I’ve cried
Hopin’ for you, baby
To be here by my side

I’ve gotta do some thinkin’
Of where to go from here
See the way the moon glows
Wipe away the tears

I remember darlin’
When you first came to me
All the air was sweet then
And all our time was free

But as the leaves descend
Our hearts fell astray
I think I’ll just go out alone
And walk my blues away

Watch the way the moon glows
Cry the tears, I’ve cried
Hopin’ for you, baby’
To be here by my side

I’ve gotta do some thinkin’
Of where to go from here
Watch the way the moon glows
Wipe away the tears

Green Mountain Morning

Fading mists above green forests
Dawn’s twilight casts a rosy hue
Birds a-twitter crows in chorus
Down by the cafe coffee’s a-brew

Stumble out to start the truck up
Scrape the frost off one last time
Goin’ to Rita’s to suck up a hot cup
Grab me a gutbomb and head down the line

Goin’ to work got to be there on time
Still half asleep but she’s on my mind
Can’t seem to shake her
Memory breaker
She’s down Gulf readin’ my mind

Rita pours me a black mug
My morning start-heart drug
Says How’s Jim today?
I’d like to relay what I’m feeling
But hey
So I say “I’m just fine… just fine”

Rita’s  girl Rosie an old high school classmate
Gives me her dark Latin eye
Slides me a donut fresh bought from Timmy’s
Passes a salesman a slab of cream pie

Me and Rosie could make it but Rita  would break it
There’s no future in me or this town
I don’t make a move not because she’d disprove
I refuse to play a college boy clown.

Leave a five on the counter, go on without her
Feel like I’m still underfed
Car parts to transport, run to the airport
Yet the girl plays in my head

Jim’s Note: To All You Spring Breakers lying in the sun on Padre Island, while I work driving car parts around frozen Vermont: You lazy baskers! Sun and the beach!

Guitar On The Wall

That guitar on the wall
Bought it at roadside sale down there Rutland way
Put on strings, tightened up the frets
Played it night and day

Now it doesn’t look like much I guess
But it’s all that’s left in my château
And it sure looks nice from right over here
When the light’s a little low

Step inside my head girl
I’ll sing for you a song
I’ll tell you ’bout where I’ve been
It shouldn’t take too long
I’ll show you all my poetry
My songs I might regret
Some may brighten up your day
Most you will forget

Here’s a book of poems I wrote
For a girl I used to know
I guess she read it front to back
Fifty times or so
It’s all about her life and mine
And livin’ with the world
It’s funny how I love that girl
And I never loved that book

Well that’s about all I got
And all I care to I suppose
Except this pair of boots
And that faded yellow rose
And that  abraded Levi’s  jacket
And John Deere cap hangin’ on the wall
Just so it’s not too much to carry
Could I see you again next Fall

And it’s all about things you possess in your world
But all have I can throw on a backseat
Hittin’ the concrete– far from the elite
Lookin’ for you — just lookin’ for you ….
Lookin’ back for you, girl.

c.2013 Jim Zee

Lost Her At The Border

It’s a French border town
On the Lamoille River valley
She’s crossing tonight by the brassy moonlight
The Customs men will gape at her figure
Check out her passport and let her go by

Goin’ hard
Goin’ fast
Tellin’ lies
Back to Quebec
And Toulouse Lautrec
Montreal bids her to fly

The border gates stand
At the edge of the the river
And a stone marks the spot
Where the old rumrunners  lie
Asleep there in time
Where a young farmer
Can’t cross the frontier

Goin’ hard
Goin’ fast
Goin’ dry

Up from the fields
Of the Trout River Valley
Try as he might
He can’t stop his pride

The radio don’t play
No Friday night love songs
Without static and squeal
To light up the way
And gone are the days
Of eager young lovers

Lovin’ hard
Lovin’ fast
Love untied

And me I sit here
In the ratty old Ford truck
Edge of the road on the American side
Got there too late but it’s just my mistake
Turn round, head south, and just ride

Goin’ hard
Goin’ fast
Goin’ wild

C’est une ville frontière française
Sur la vallée de la rivière Lamoille
Elle est traversée par le clair de lune ce soir cuivrée
Les hommes de la coutume se penchera sur sa figure
Découvrez son passeport et lui laisser passer

Goin ‘dur
Goin ‘rapide
Tellin ‘est
De retour au Québec
Et Toulouse-Lautrec
Montréal ordonne à voler

Les postes-frontières se
Au bord de la rivière l’
Et une pierre marque l’endroit
Où se trouvent les bootleggers anciens
Dormait là dans le temps
Si un jeune agriculteur
Ne peuvent pas traverser la frontière

Goin ‘dur
Goin ‘rapide
Goin ‘sec

À partir des champs
De la vallée de la rivière Trout
Essayez comme il pourrait
Il ne peut pas arrêter sa fierté

La radio ne joue pas
Pas de vendredi soir des chansons d’amour
Sans statique et crissement
Pour éclairer le chemin
Et fini le temps
Désireux de jeunes amoureux

Lovin ‘dur
Lovin ‘rapide
Lovin ‘égalité

Et moi je suis assis ici
Dans le camion vieille et Ford
Bord de la route, du côté américain
Je suis arrivé trop tard, mais c’est juste mon erreur
Demi-tour, vers le sud, et juste rouler

Goin ‘dur
Goin ‘rapide
Goin ‘sauvage

The Ghost In The Produce

Amor Vincit Omnia

I thought I saw her at the grocery today
Sudden apparition cold draft overtook
I recall riding there in her old Chevrolet
Together choosing  dinner that she would later cook

Walking past the produce a chill came through the air
Almost as if she was nearby –but watching from afar
The scent of her perfume wafts now through her hair
My mind slipping backwards to that time that we were there

And now I think I hear the tinkle of her laugh
The merry mischievous dimples –her Irish twinkle eyes
And yet I know my Kathy has long since passed away
Her spirits do possess me as reality belies

c. 2013 For Kathy, who is on my mind tonight

Watching Lassie Movies

She cries at Lassie movies
Even at the end
A full box of kleenex
Is the girl’s best friend

She bends to pick a flower
Loves the dew at dawn
Enjoys the cloudburst shower
And the prancing of a fawn

She’s more than just a woman
She’s girl under it all
Off to work with all its hustle
The 21st century brawl

She’s a wonder and nightmare
Wrapped up tight in one
A wondrous apparition
Until she comes undone

Watching Lassie movies
With her hand in mine
Passing the box of tissues
Our memories defined

Katy Texas Diner Ditty

Let me slide into a torn seat at Roadway Chuck’s Cafe
Gravel dust coated pulloff out Katy Texas way
Let me ponder on the beauty of the waitresses’ ballet
Doin’ the working girl shuffle for the truckers there today

In now walks a salesman, garish tie yellow and green
White leather belt and pleat pants revealing  something quite obscene
He’s loud in more than one way as he sucks down a fast cup
But he leaves a nice fat tip for the waitress down on luck

At the corner booth a family gulps down greasy chow
Salted fries and ketchup –lookout you got some on your face
“Come here Billy Bobbie you’re lookin’ like a disgrace”
Mom hauls out the Kleenex and swabs his sticky brow

Some fool now plugs the jukebox –It’s Dead Skunk in the Road
Louden Wainwright’s banjo tells a tale best left untold
The road gang thinks it’s funny — and puts more quarters in
And 6 more plays of Dead Skunk add to the frightful din

Carlos the greasy fry cook sticks his head out of the door
“Who ordered up the hashbrowns? Tell ‘em we ain’t got no more”
Peggy Lou the waitress yells “Look out there in the back”.
Carlos mutters something– like he doesn’t give a crap.

As I finish my sandwich and check the Texas map
Time to get into the old truck and maybe take a nap
Leave behind the comedy of Roadway Chuck’s Cafe
Venture forth and head up north to another life’s buffet

El Brazos Place Blues

“El Brazos Place”

I been hangin’ round this place, I been feelin’ so misplaced
I been waitin’ for you, I’ve been waitin’ for you
All the places that you go, all the people that you know
I’ve been lookin’ for you, I’ve been lookin’ for you

And all these pretty money people up on Brazos Place
They all got somethin’ in their pockets, all got somethin’ on their plates
They roll down to Houston where the moon meets all the stars
Singin’ hallelujah while they dance around their cars
They all say they’re goin’ far

Someone said they might have seen you where the ocean meets the land
So I’ve been out here all night lookin’ for your footprints in the sand
Did you hear the ocean singing, baby did you sing along
While you danced out in the water to some ol’ forgotten song,
Were you even here at all?

Somehow I wound up in the desert just after daylight
Where the Joshua Trees grow — that little town you always liked
These pioneer cowpoke people ain’t got too much to say
And if you ever were here baby they ain’t givin’ you away

And all these pretty people up on El Brazos Place
They all got somethin’ in their pockets, all hidin’ something on their face
Someone said they might have seen you where the ocean meets the land
So I’ve been out here all night lookin’ for your footprints in the sand

Think I’ll go back to the city, back to El Brazos Place
That’s the last time that I saw that pretty smile upon your face
I’ve been lookin’ for you baby
I’ve been lookin’ for you

Keep me in your mind for awhile

Highways are calling and I’m running out of gas
Keep me in your head for awhile
If I leave you it doesn’t mean I love you any less
Keep me in your head for awhile

When you get up in the morning and you see that Houston haze
Keep me in your head for awhile
There’s a plane leaving nightly if it’s all out of place
Keep me in your head for awhile

Sometimes when you’re cooking dinner round the fireplace
Maybe you’ll think of me and smile
You know I’m tied to you like the smile upon your face
Keep me in your mind for awhile

Hold me in your thoughts, take me for what I’m worth
Touch me as I come home here to you
And when the winter comes I’ll tend the fire’s hearth
And I will be right next to you

Engine’s cranking louder on that freeway heading east
Keep me in your head for awhile
These wheels keep on turning but my heart is not released
Keep me in your mind for awhile

c.2012 Jim Zee

Love’s Just Fine (For This Poor Boy Today)

Love’s Just Fine For This Poor Boy Today

Every time you fall in love
That’s the best time –it is grand.
It’s holding moonlight in your hand,
It’s heaven come to land;
And you say: will it last forever?
And you try to keep tomorrow locked away,
‘Cause tomorrow is like never
And love’s just fine for this poor boy today.

Every time you fall in love,
That’s the only time it’s real;
And that gal is the only gal
Who feels the way you feel.
And you wonder how you lived without her,
And you tell yourself she’ll never go away,
‘Cause tomorrow is like never
And love’s just fine for this poor boy today.

Love’s enough to find your heart and lose it
To see the love and choose it
Over knowing how or why or when
Love’s enough to know if she’d refuse it,
You’d take what’s left and try your luck again.

‘Cause every time you fall in love
That’s the one and only time.
It’s living through the final verse
Of a one and lonely rhyme.
‘Cause you know this one will last forever,
And you turn and watch tomorrow drift away,
‘Cause tomorrow is like never
And love’s enough for this poor boy today.

© 2010 Jim Zee.  From an earlier journal.

Would you mind?

Would you like me to whisper love songs all the time
If you could be forever with me would you mind?
You know there’s something missing on your face
Tell me would my lips be in your way?

Would you mind another soft caress for you?
A loving heart that listens, you could talk to
Kisses filled with passion on your face
Now tell me would my hugs be in your way?

Would you mind if I forever whispered love songs?
Would it matter if my lips were in your way?
Kisses full of passion on your face
Would my love for you forever be in your way?

© 2012 Jim Zee. http://jimzee.tk

What Can You Say To The Ones Gone Away?

How can you write ’bout the ones gone away?
How do you say what you really want to say?
That hasn’t been said while you bled anyway
What can you say to the ones gone away?

You know that your heart still cares for her there
You are still with her though its a long-gone affair
Midnight sweet visions solo reflections
Humble distractions refractions ensnare

Sweet girls may show in your radio tableaux
And if I am called I surely will go
Wherever my heart leads follow to  Gulf shore
Tumbled forever with lost paramores

She’s now gone over to the Dark Side’s domain
She reads the blog daily so she’ll ascertain
If my heart is still with her– or did I disdain?
There but for fortunes of love we maintain

How can you write ’bout the ones gone away?
How do you say what you really want to say?
That hasn’t been said while you bled anyway
What can you say to the ones gone away?

© 2012 Jim Zee

Sarah The Healer

God said to Sarah bring forth the sun
Call him by Isaac the laughing one
Cleave unto Abraham now you’ve begun
Bensalem in Hebrew — the one perfect son

Sarah the wise the healer disguised
Dispensed words of wisdom to all worldwide
Held hands consoled and calmed patients fears
Now she is needy of kindness and cheer

Sarah the strong yet Sarah the meek
Speaks kindly to strangers no solace she seeks
A muse to a poet, dispenser of health
A friend to mankind with her inner wealth

c. 2012  Jim Zee.  ”For Sarah”

 

Shaken, Not Stirred

“James, you are a cunning linguist”–Moneypenny in “Tomorrow Never Comes”

I am the Bond to your MoneyPenny
You are the one shaken but not stirred
Together we make our own movie
Each night over cocktails and sweet words

Come with me now dear MoneyPenny
There’s more to our romance than just delight
You can wear that sundress that I favor
We will Bond again all through the night

Bond pours the wine and starts the music
‘Penny slides her hand down to her thigh
Music serenade does now crescendo
Peaking then retreating bye and bye

James pulls and cocks his loaded pistol
MP spreads her limbs in hot reply
Together they will dance the torrid mambo
Horizontally they hungrily comply

Come with me now dear MoneyPenny
We will enjoy each other’s company
I will wear Tuxedo and shake Martinis
As we twirl in midnight reveries

Does Vermont Cross Your Mind?

Cold Vermont fall nights
Just ain’t no good for a rumble
I’ve tried it time after time
You’re in someone else’s arms in Humble
Does Vermont ever cross your mind ?

Tori while you’re busy with collars in Texas
Make one for me if you got the time
Cause good memories don’t fade so easy
Does Vermont ever cross your mind ?

You left me here to be with him in Houston
And you know it hurt me at the time
Well I wonder now if it makes a difference
Does Vermont ever cross your mind ?

© 2012 Jim Zee. http://jimzee.tk

Houston Smogbound Blues

One day she’ll break the bonds
Throw those chains away
True love will respond
She won’t be led astray

By slick and evil lensmen
Holding fake ID’s
Of Reverend credentials
And porn star conferees

Beyond the smog horizon
Gulf Coast’s dirty air
He’s now a wiser wiseman
But his heart’s in disrepair

Mountains green behind him
Veil of tears unshed
Future now expands
But the past cannot be fled

CHORUS:

One day she’ll break the bonds
Throw those chains away
True love will respond
She won’t be led astray

© 2012 Jim Zee

Fastball Queen of the Diamond

“She’s #28 — the pitcher, for the winning Texas Cats”

=

She puts on the red jersey and pulls her hair straight back
She’s –# 28– the pitcher — for the winning Texas Cats
She’s off the mound a lady, and prim in every way,
But today she is a warrior– and will put your team away

Putting on her game face, she turns from femme to foe
As she takes her place upon the mound, a champ from head to toe
She can wheel to check the runner, and stop them with a throw
She’s a red-hot woman player –and a lover you should know

And now she toes the rubber
As she winds up for the pitch
And now the horsehide orb is slung
And swung upon — and missed!

Another girl’s retired and sent back to the bench
That is number seventeen, and it ain’t over yet
She grimaces and grunts as a smokin’ strike streaks by
And she knows that she can get the next to pop out on a fly

And later, after game is done, and she’s showered and refreshed
And she’s decked out in her high heeled shoes and curvy cobalt dress
She’s off to the Opera, or maybe a Western bar ..
And to look at her –a hurler star — you’d never even guess

The callow boys of Houston stare at her over the fence
But they’ll never get a chance with her –- she’s got a lot of sense
She’s a man’s complete companion, and a star unto her own
She’s a white-hot lady athlete — and a lover you should know

c. 2011 Jim Zee All Rights Reserved

Frost Upon the Rose

Hitched all the way to Humble
With a white rose in my hand
With the need to see her,
Didn’t have it planned

It all just kinda happened
When we talked the night away
Didn’t mean to love her,
It just turned out that way

Broken, flat, and busted
Not a dollar to my name
Didn’t matter either
Our hearts beat still the same

Wanted to be with her
Impossible it seems
So I only am with her
In my fevered dreams

And now the morning beckons
I waken with a start
The dream fades and reckons
with the beatings of our hearts

And up here in New England
The rose’s white with frost
Remind me of the love down there

And what that love has cost

Refrain:

Hitched all the way to Humble
With a white rose in my hand
With the need to see her,
Didn’t have it planned

It all just kinda happened
When we talked the night away
Didn’t mean to love her,
It just turned out that way

c. 2011 Jim Zee

Mom and Dad and Scamps and Things

Annette and Vivienne

‘Round about the break of dawn, as the sun unveils the gloom
The mommy and the daddy hear the noise from Annette’s room
The tinkle of the silver bells, the giggles from Vivienne
And they know it’s time to rise and go –and get them fed again

Those two little scamps are far flung friends,
And joy to all they see
Sisters now and forever more, one born across the sea
Annette is blond and fair and tall, Vivienne dark and squat
But sisters they appear to be, and yet they are just tots

But biology takes a back seat where the family’s concerned
And when others see us all at once, the loving is discerned
From that Cape Cod cottage in the Land of Green
To the outings in the snow ..
The family is just what it seems
And Love is sure to grow

Jim’s Notes: Originally published in 2011.

Starlight Drive-In Snackbar

Now Showing: Dos Peliculas

 

Met her at the snack stand at the outdoor picture show
Drinkin’ jack and coke in a paper cup copping quite a glow
Waitin’ on line behind her
Cutoff shorts reminder
Of the girl of mine before her

Watchin’ the big screen over my shoulder
Batman was getting bolder on his bike tonight
Missing out on the action
But enjoying the passion
On the snackbar parade Saturday night

She picked up her order turned round and bumped me
Spilled all her fries on her tanned and firm young thighs
I laughed but she cried til I bought her more for  free
Underneath the neon marquee
Of the Starlight Outdoor Movie

She quick kissed me thanks as she beat her retreat
Back to her date who was lying in wait
For her food and her woo
As my order came through
A passing moment in the snackbar of fate

Choking down that greasy chow
I wondered where and when and how
The next hot love will find me
On the street? Or in a backseat?
At the Starlight Outdoor Movie

Truck Cab Thunder Struck

Texas on the Horizon

Lightning crashes the old radio
Brightens the sky as the rain now descends
Think of her now at that old rodeo
The gullies awash — his heart does not mend

Why is life like an old country tune?
Why does love hurt like sore feet in new boots?
Rains liquefy to a howling monsoon
And he feels his life drifting downstream to his roots

Scorched earth in the East but it’s worse in the West
The corn is in bloom but drought takes the rest
The heat telegraphs its lust and libido
As the storm beats down a hailing crescendo

The girl’s in the arms of her current lover
A rusty truck cab lends noisy storm cover
Wind squalls and static drown out the radio
Vermont calls to Texas but won’t dare to go

Lonesome Accusation

Some days she is still my muse, albeit far away and lost to me forever.  –JZ

“One is easily fooled by that which one loves” — Jean Baptiste Poquelin MOLIÈRE (1622-1673).

==================================
And his arm it fell around her
As his hand it reached around
And she savored his sweet loving
And she watched the shade go down

It was a private accusation
No one heard her say
That the man she left behind her
Was two thousand miles away

Lonely boy pick up that cellphone
And play that blues harp loud
And find yourself a lady
And dance right through the clouds

There was a lonely girl from Humble
With a smile all sweet with pain
And she never stopped to wonder
If she’d see him again

It was a private anticipation
No one heard her say
That man that she was looking for
Was only twenty streets away

And the record just kept playing
As she came walking in
And he never stopped to wonder
If he’d see her again

And the lesson of this story
Is it’s easier said than done
To look at what you’ve been through
And to see what you’ve become

Lonely boy pick up that cellphone
And play that blues harp loud
And find yourself a lady
And dance right through the clouds

Rough Hand Farmer Blues

Bag Balm — not just for udders anymore

 

Rough Hand Farmer Blues
===========================
Saw a girl the other day
She gave me the sign that she wanted to play
I held out my hand
She took it and said:

“Ewwwww …you got farmer hands–
Get away!”

Rough as a cob and splintered and split
They’re more like a foot than a manicured mitt
When you work the earth to make it pay
Your toughened hands will get that way

Cut to the core on a rusty old bolt
Covered with loam from the old garden hoe
Drenched in coolant — (you go with the flow)
These paws may have flaws but they’re what I got, beau

There’s a product for cows, Bag Balm (It’s neat)
Lanolin, vaseline, unguent for teats
It’s good though for hands, kids bottoms and feets
You can use it forever and not feel effete

So baby I got Bag Balm and soft skin too
Don’t worry ’bout smoothness, its not full of glue
Farmer hands
You can understand
Happy Time for you

Still In Humble-Updated

Jim’s Take — new verses to a previous post.

 

Hidden deep in her twin hearts
Lies the love that we both had shared
While she practiced her dramatic arts
The other heart remained ensnared

Tortured by her past abuser’s crimes
She struggled to find love again
A fool–with his nickels and his dimes
His Ferrari and his evil den

Phantom dreams of expensive schemes
Closets full of corsets grand
High heeled steeds had met her needs
But still the heart refused to mend

By day she packs her genius head
With knowledge for the future child
By night she molds and kneads the bread
Her regal hands are now restyled

Another lover makes her scene
Whips and chains and more — obscene
And so she cleaves to what she knows
Collars, chains tied into bows

True love does not pain or chain
True love does not fulminate
Or slave to Master Dominate
True love is what she needs to gain

And so ill winds blow Houston way
And as I type in disarray
My punctured soul maintains control
As memories turn to blue and gray

 

Super Sports and Short Shorts

She handed him the half inch chrome Craftsman breaker bar
And crawled upon the creeper and slid underneath the car
Jimmy was beside her, crankin’ hard upon a bolt
And her name was Charlotte,  and she was in full revolt

They were young and reckless and out there on the run
What started as a joyride had come apart – and come undone
And now the Chevvy’s oilpan had a hole from  gravel stone
‘Twas luck they’d not lunched the engine, or they’d be walking home alone

“Your Daddy’s gonna whup me, ” Jimmy said with a sly grin
As he reached into her t- top and she kissed him on the chin
And one thing led to another as the lovers did begin
To dance  Horizontal Mambo in  a  car hot full of sin

“Wait, we better not here, ” she said, snapping up her tight short-shorts
“Let’s get into the back seat” he said with a retort
“You boys are all the same” she said, her lips pursed in a pout
He knew that he’d have to get her on some other remote route

CHORUS

Hot cars and greasy women, crossed flags upon the grille
Tight o-rings and slick bearings, pushrods and power drills
Let me adjust your tappets, so the lifters will not shrill
Hot cars and greasy women, good old boys cheap auto thrill

Fabulous Fabric Wordsmith Girl

r

She drapes her form and signs her work
From corsets to a past age skirt
Words she pens to fill a yen
Her restless soul she must assert

A painful heart still throbs abreast
Her wants and need still unassessed
Wearily she takes her rest
To dream again her heart’s bequest

Lingerie is her stock in trade
But designer gowns she does parade
From thread to cloth to sequins sewed
Her talent surely shines and glows

 

Gamblin’ Girl

 Gamblin’ girl  you been around
 From Houston to the hallowed ground
 Over love  and under  woe
 Places I was scared to go

 I wrote it proud so you could see
 Hangin’ on to every word
 Gentle as a baby’s breath
 Wrote for you alone to read

 You weren’t askin’ much at all
 Just catch you when you fall
 On your own, the long way home

 …..And I would give anything
 For one more night to run ….
 For one last song for you to sing

 

Is That A Pulley In Your Purse?

She was standing by the counter
Waiting for the parts man
Had an alternator pulley
in the palm of her fine hand

Her jeans were ripped and oil stained
But tight in all the right places
As she bit her lip impatient
Waiting for the replacement
For her hotrod Chevrolet

It was an older short box
With a sagging wooden bumper
But the motor purred like a panther
And promised a hot ride

She said her name was Jessie
But all her friends said Jess
And would she say me  “yes”
If I asked her out tonight?

As I gave her the new pulley
She looked me up down and over
Winked to me slyly as her greasy hand touched mine

I watched her wiggle out there
To her truck– she peeled out boldly
I knew I would see her  later
Somewhere down the line

 

 

Dinner At Jim’s Cucina

Hello, I’m Jim, and you’ve said your friends call you Jess?
Will you  join me for dinner and vintage vino? Please do tell me yes
Welcome to my bachelor pad
I like you in that dress.

Perhaps a bit of cognac, or a glass of Chianti will do
Please join me in la cucina, and I’ll cook Italian for you
Let me take your wrapper and put on some MP3′s
Do you like Adele? or Coldplay? Or perhaps some rock LP’s?

Tonight I’ve made up salad, fresh from the garden greens
Spinach, looseleaf lettuce, cuke and sliced up zucchini
Just a hint of lemon –and a  touch of chilled parsley
To whet your jaded palette — your taste buds sure to please

And now here is  the main course, a family recipe
Brought to us  by Grandma –years ago from Sicily
Chicken Scarpiello — sausage, tomato, linguini
Peppers, sauce, onion — a dinner for a queen

Let me top off your Chianti — it’s imported just for me
Spicy, straight from Roma, but reminds me of Napoli
We’ll toast to one another, and to the joy of cookery
As the table candles reflect in your eyes so happily

And now here’s a  tiramisu from the fridge all nice and chilled
The chocolate, ladyfingers, and the cognac brings a thrill
With fresh whipped cream to make your dream of a night  fulfilled
A perfect desert treat I will repeat to further my goodwill

As I slide my hand to your hand and take it into mine
You say to me with a twinkle “That dinner was divine”
A moment that we sense we have each other’s nights design
The passion of the moment sealed — a perfect place in time

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0—0-0-

Jim’s Take: Men, forget learning to play the guitar. Just learn how to cook 3 Italian dinners to perfection. And don’t forget the table linen, candles, flowers, wine, and soft music. Oh, and thanks, Mom for teaching me how to cook

© 2012 Jim Zee All Rights Reserved

Plans and Schemes and Texas Dreams

She planned to wear those horn-rimmed librarian glasses
And to meet me wearing that long leather trench coat
In the late night aisles of the Food King market
Underneath naked as the day she was born

But first we had to meet and be together as lovers –

We’d schemed how it would be –getting off the airplane in a heated tizzy
Meeting in the cab in a lover’s embrace restrained by the two minute
Ride to the hotel where she’d pre registered us as Mr. and Mrs. Smith
From Smithtown, Long Island, New York, USA

A hamper packed with gourmet tidbits hangs from her arm
Champagne ripe sharp cheddar — her home made tiramisu chilled
In the second bag (Marc Jacobs) a filmy negligee and perhaps a corset
To go with the red garter belt and black lace stockings
And of course,  red high-heeled shoes

The wondrous and knowing glances as she repaired to the bathroom
To “slip into something a little more comfortable” — a line we had rehearsed
Over and over in our lover’s  email  and telephone scenario from the old black-and-white movies –
Romantic comedies that she loved to watch

And as I lie there, in wait, turgid and panting, wait..wait.. waiting for the door to open
And the woman I had loved in my mind for 2 thousand miles to appear
Waiting for her to softly call “Jimmy .. Jimmy..” satin thighs glowing in the flickering signlight.

And now the vision changes ..

It’s suddenly that old threadbare and shopworn dream sequence from the Late Late Show
As I awaken alone and want to get back into that fleeting deep rem sleep with her.
The flashing arc  of the MOTEL VACANCY neon muddling my mind….over and over

As I wonder still — how did I mess it up this time?

“…I dreamed I was lying  in the sun on the beach with Kim Kardashian  on the French Riviera– but then the dream changed and I was saying “Son of a beach” to Geraldo Rivera”  — Dennis Miller

Around Here — Redux

Jim’s Take: Published in March and back by popular demand.  A , E, and B7 chord progression country style.

If you ain’t from around here
You don’t know our pioneers
I won’t let you down, let me show you around
Cuz I live on the farm right close here

Over in that parking lot
Is Jim’s old pickup truck broke down
Owned by half the boys in town
It’s still on the road all these years

 Got a bumper made of pressure treat
Rifle rack makes it look neat
Tailgate’s gone, and the fenders are beat
Looks like it belongs around here

Here’s Bob Ray breaking sod
Old red tractor pulling plow
Coulter cuts it, share rips it up
Moldboard turns it over — its fresh ground
We farm hard around here

His son Willy’s pounding posts
Fresh cut locust keeps the cows
Out of the corn and out of the road
We make the food and the wood around here

Round the bend Jerry welds
A bumper brace or busted gear
Got the shop from his granddad
Fixes trucks around here

Down west by the river bend
Upon the hill the graves ascend
Kathy lies here –I stop to tend
Her flowers — they grow around her

Here is where we live and die
It’s home and hearth and the reason why
The mountains and streams and big wide sky
It’s what’s real around here.

“For Kathy”–JZ

c. 2012 Jim Zee Interested Musicians please contact jim.zee.usa@gmail.com

Farmer In Me

I don’t know why I feel the way I do
 Like I ain’t got a single thing to lend
 Sometimes I’m my own  best friend

I guess that’s just the farmer in me

 I got a life city folks can’t understand
 Living simple–  loving the land
 Mountain meadows valleys grand
 I guess that’s just the farmer in me

 The urge to plow and plant the seed
 The roughed hands  that sometimes bleed
 The barbed wire holes in all my jeans
 The oily stains from old machines
 
 I guess that’s just the farmer in me

Girl I know there’s times you thought
You could make it on the land
Milk the cows and make your stand
But love unlike shoes cannot be bought

So I’ll take my roughshod ways alone
Walk the woods –say love is overblown
But the love I’ve known I can’t disown –

I guess that’s the farmer in me

 

Coming Back For Me

The winter had prevailed
 And held its tongue too long.
 The spring looked the same,
 As if it had never gone

 And through an cracked window,
 Where torn curtains hung,
 I saw you, I saw you,
 Coming back to me

 One begins to read between
 The pages of a  smile.
 The sound of dreamy music,
 And suddenly it’s worthwhile
 I saw you, I saw you,
 Coming back to me

 You came to say and wanted to live my way,
 Scatter my love like leaves in the wind
 You always say that you won’t go away,
 But I know what it always has been,
 It always has been

 A transparent dream
 Beneath a sheltering sky…
 Most of the time,
 I just let it go by.
 Now I wish it hadn’t begun.
 I saw you, I saw you,
 Coming back to me.

 Strolling the hill,
 Overlooking the wood
 I realize I’ve been misunderstood.
 The outline in the mist
 Could have been anyone–
 I saw you, I saw you,
 Coming back to me.

 Small things like friendship
 Are put in a bin.
 Whatever happened to wishes?
 Did it ever begin?
 Was it just something
 That we made up for fun?
 I saw you, I saw you,
 Coming back to me.

Don’t Know Where I’m Going

Don’t know where I’m goin’
Cuz love’s already gone
Staying here or leavin’
Well before the dawn

Didn’t care to get up
The dream just wouldn’t fade
Couldn’t dare to break up
Stayed and played the sweet  charade

She knew she would
And then she did
Played  it to  me and flipped my lid
Put my heart right on the skids

and now..

I don’t know where I’m goin’
Cuz love’s already gone
Stayin’ here or leavin’
Well before the dawn

Know I should care,
Like I did before
Know I would spare
Her heart I adored

Now we’re both overboard
Took a shot and underscored
Overplayed, clichéd , dismayed
Well before the dawn

Don’t know where I’m goin,
But I’ve been there before

Sweet Angelina

Sweet Angelina
——————————————————
She was in the Jug and Loaf today
Hadn’t seen her since the wake –didn’t know what to say
She was workin’ back the counter, her hair up in a bun
We’d lost a lot of years since we went out on the run

I just needed a cup and a snack
But when I saw her, I was taken back
To those high school days years ago
When she and I were oh so close

My heart ached, and hers did too
The husband she had drank his life  away
And left her with her child
and a lot of bills to pay

And so we stood — awkwardly
Her eyes teared up as she looked at me
And just for one small slice of time
She again was mine–

My Angelina

She handed me the change
And I tried to smile in vain..
As she said “Thank you .. call again”
I knew I’d be back  one day

Sweet Angelina, you know how much I miss you .
Sweet Angelina, you know it can never be what it was
Sweet Angelina, were it mine to make
The decision years ago ..
We’d be together again .. and yet .. not today
Sweet Angelina

Pawned American

Jim’s Take:  Wrote and published this song a while back. Seemed appropriate to reblog it now. 

Every thing’s been pawned American
Sent to China in return for crap
Every thing’s got a lien on it’s back
Pawned away every day for paper scraps

Chinese shoes and Chinese sticks
Chinese shovels and Chinese picks
Chinese bankers buying gold
We’re workin’ for them until we’re old

Made in Datong by little kids
Busting their humps for nothing pay
While the workin’ man here can’t shift the gears
Of the Toyota truck the bank has hauled away

Idaho spuds stamped made in Quanjou
Dairy cows mooing with an accented song
Mr Farmer, don’t linger long
There’s a collector waiting to walk on you

Every thing’s been pawned American
This ain’t no TV show
When it’s gone to Beijing its gone for good
People.. it’s time you understood..
Every thing’s been pawned American
Pawned American

c. 2012 Jim Zee All rights reserved.

NOTE: This is a photo of a child laborer in a Zejiang brick factory tied up. From the official Chinese Radio International government site. Apparently the government there is down with this practice.

Two Heartbeats Wanted– Apply Within

Rustic rusty repartee

Originally published in November. Seemed appropriate to run it again.

Atoms and eggs — cells migrate
To create that special state
of wonder of joy and love

In the wanderings of scenes — viewed within dreams
Scamps with bells on their shoes
Joyfully play with the toys of the day –
And chase away all of our blues

Down to the genes of all her plans
She dreams to be great with a child
And to live in the house in the north Vermont wilds
Forever a gift to her man

Sheltering Sky Fading Fast Blues

Keep a twinkle winking in your eye
Pay attention to the sheltering sky
You don’t know what will be coming down
I don’t remember losing track of you
You were always jinking in and out of view
I must have thought you’d always be around

Keeping things real by faking a frown
Now you’re nowhere to be found

I don’t know what happens when people fade away
Can’t seem to grasp it as hard as I may
It’s like a song I can hear up there in my ear
That I can’t sing, I can’t help listening
And I can’t help feeling foolish pretending to frown
Crying inside up and then down
‘Cause I know that you’d rather we were loving

Typing our sorrow away
(Right on keyboarding)
No matter what fate chooses to play
(There’s nothing we can do about it anyway)

Keep a prayer for the human race
Let them go drift on up into space
You never know what will be going down
Maybe a new world is drawing near
But then, it could all disappear
Along with whatever we might have found

Writing our sorrows away
(Right on composing)
No matter what sad song may play
(Cannot do anything so they say)

Watching God’s Day Dawn

Woodstove Teapot Reveries

About daybreak in the pink of dawn
Half slept and bleary need of the brew
Open the shades partially drawn
Remembering the faded dream of you

Stumble down ancient stairs
Wideplanked boards worn from years
Mister Coffee is a formality
Think I’ll just make up a tea

Crack open the draft on the Jotul stove
Wait a moment for the glow of coals
Then chuck in a few well seasoned sticks
Pot’s on the boil in a few short licks

Rest of the family’s still in the sack
Might write a bit — need me a snack
Turn on the outside Christmas tree
The bold glowing lamps — what joy to see

Pour in water hot spring steaming
Soak the blueberry herbal mix
Green iron kettle merrily singing
Humid honey-lemon sooths my lips

Look outside at the barnyard crew
A cow’s makin’ noise — but she’s not overdue
For the morning feed — no milking for you
You’re just a heifer — you’ll get yours soon

Right now though, I gots to wake up
Check on the email, pet the pup
Enjoying the days now semester’s through
Sitting here, and thinking of you

Watching God’s Day Dawn –
And missing you

Like the Gurgle of a Baby

Like the gurgle of a baby after she has just been fed
Like the burble of the mountain stream                                                                   O’er the rocks upon it’s bed
Like the aura of the sunrise on it’s way up overhead
The welling of your tender love                                                                                 Reels my senses in my head

For Tori, December 11, 2011

For Kirsi

In a coat of white
she stalks the night
Ascorbic acid in her hand
Not to slay, but to joke away
And entertain a man

With skin so fair a certain aire
of brightness did convey
A porceleained frame, didst hide her pain,
but humor tamed her day

In coat of white
she stalks the night
with heart as black as coal
But in her soul, there lies a glow
of gentleness and light

Infanticide Holocaust

Lies, and lying liars

One picture is worth 10,000 words

Mother’s Day Quote From Mother Teresa

Jim’s Take:  Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.  And to all the mothers of the world. You’re all beautiful every day.

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered;
Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have and it may just never be enough;
Give the world the best you have anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it’s all between you and God;
It was never between you and them anyway. — Mother Teresa

“Abortion is the greatest destroyer of peace in the world” –Mother Teresa

Vince Gill-Patty Loveless-for George Jones

UPDATE: The entire Jones Memorial service from Nashville will be rebroadcast tonight at 10 pm on RFD-TV (345 on Direct-TV)

Jim’s take:  Just finished watching Vince and Patty perform through their tears “Go Rest High On That Mountain”,  l995 CMA song of the year winner.  The packed house for George’s funeral went to their feet during the song, and it was a truly touching country moment. Incredible performance for both artists, including some outstanding fretwork by Gill on his Martin acoustic.

When I die, I will want this song played at my funeral.

=================================================

I know your life
On earth was troubled
And only you could know the pain
You weren’t afraid to face the devil
You were no stranger to the rain

(Chorus)
So, Go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin’
Love for the Father and the Son

Oh, how we cried the day you left us
We gathered round your grave to grieve
I wish I could see the angels’ faces
[ From: http://www.elyrics.net ]
When they hear your sweet voice sing

So, Go rest high on that mountain
Son your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin’
Love for the Father and the Son

(Instrumental)

Go rest high on that mountain
Cause, son your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin’
Love for the Father and the Son

Go to heaven a shoutin’
Love for the Father and the Son.
Songwriter(s): Vincent Gill

Choice: My Life, George Jones, and the World

Choices — My Life, George Jones, and the World

I grew up on a working dairy farm where country music was the rule of the day. In the house my father would have playing country classics of Jones, Haggard, Patsy Cline, Hank Williams (senior and junior). In the barn the old tube radio crackled out the tunes through the static of fluorescent lights and hum from CJMS 1040 AM Montreal.
In fact, I’ve got the Mighty Ten Forty on right now.

I haven’t heard The Possum’s “Choices” in a coon’s age, but here it is and it brings to mind choices I’ve made and choices of others I’ve known.

The choice I made not to go to the Gulf Coast and try to live out a dream.
The choice I made to not go into public education but to teach in a private environment at a religious school.
The choice I made to not follow the college crowd in drinking, carousing, drug taking

All these choices were tough and close calls.
In a few years, I’ll know if they were the right choices.
I think they are.
God only knows.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
There were voices that told me right from wrong
If I had listened, no I wouldn’t be here today
Living and dying with the choices I’ve made

I was tempted, by an early age I found
I liked drinkin’, oh, and I never turned it down
There were loved ones but I turned them all away
Now I’m living and dying with the choices I’ve made

I’ve had choices since the day that I was born
There were voices that told me right from wrong
If I had listened, no I wouldn’t be here today
Living and dying with the choices I’ve made

I guess I’m payin’ for the things that I have done
If I could go back, oh, Lord knows I’d run
But I’m still losin’ this game of life I play
Losing and dying with the choices I’ve made

I’ve had choices since the day that I was born
There were voices that told me right from wrong
If I had listened, no I wouldn’t be here today
Living and dying with the choices I’ve made

Living and dying with the choices I’ve made

George Jones –Balladeer, Country Legend. The Possum is Gone

Jim’s take:  I grew up listening to my father, a country music fanatic, play Jones, Haggard, Hank, and the rest of the classic country artists and I credit those haunting melodies   as one of my major influences.   Jones, another Texas troubadour (Beaumont) had a way of modulating his mellow baritone with a lonely hound-like resonance that gets into both your head and your soul.

Listen now to what I regard as my favorite, “He  Stopped Loving Her Today”.

 ”The Possum” will long be remembered and celebrated by folks who know exceptional country music

George Jones, dead at 81.

Read more here at the Washington Times.

Updated:  Shortly after George’s  hit, Merle Haggard came out with this gem:

Thank God for Country Girls

Girls, you’re beautiful!

LEBANON, Ore. — A Linn County man pinned by his overturned tractor said his teenage daughters saved his life by lifting the 3,000-pound machine off of him.

Jeff Smith was able to wriggle free and get breathing room after his daughters, 14-year-old Haylee and 16-year-old Hannah, lifted the huge machine up, as first reported by the Albany Democrat-Herald.

Smith said he was trying to pull a stump out of his garden when the tractor flipped last Monday. The steering wheel pinned his chest to the ground.

He said he was losing breath with each scream, but his daughters heard and ran to him.

“It’s amazing. You hear about this kind of stuff… this adrenaline rush, being able to pick cars up and slide people out. You never realize it’s really there until you actually witness it,” Jeff said. “I was very amazed and very grateful they were able to do that.”

“I was saying, ‘God help me’ over and over because I obviously could not lift it myself. It was heavy,” Haylee said.

A neighbor finished the job by using his own tractor and its shovel to lift the Smith’s tractor and allow Smith to get his arm out.

Jeff survived with a broken left wrist, cuts, bruises and a profound appreciation for the strength of his daughters.  STORY LINK

Jim’s Take:  Being a farmer’s son, I know a thing or three about tractors and their dangers.  The tractor in question appears to be a l940′s or /50′s International low-bow general purpose rig  – made for plowing, discing, cultivating, planting, hauling.  Not for heavy  stump pulling. There are no front end weights to hold the machine down, and there is no roll cage to protect the operator.  Dumb.

Dad’s a lucky dude, and Mom should make him sell that tractor immediately.  God’s sending you a message,  bro.

Daughters that you have, Dad, are beyond price. And lovely to boot.

May I be so lucky as to find a girl like you guys one day.

UPDATE: Doug Ernst’s blog has a unique take on this topic:

Paul Harvey: If I Were The Devil

Sap Snow Maple Flow

On the Vermont farm in March

Jim’s Take:  Reposted from a couple years ago. Picture’s the same though–it’s snowed here every day for a week.

Winter spring storm sweeps down the valley
Maple pails catching the sticking flakes
Sap flows though
Despite the snow

Encouraging the production of pancakes

Red buds glow on the trees below
Nature’s and farmers first crop
In the garage
The farmer’s in charge
Tractor work continues  in the shop

Woodstove embers turned down low
The eves are drippin, it’s heavy wet snow
In a day or three
It will be gone you see
Mud Season will set springtime free

Beantown to Burlington Bus Blues

Greyhound boards in Boston
Paul Simon rhymes in head
Kathy lay on my shoulder
Mass Pike straight ahead

Her navy peacoat collar
Turned up her chestnut hair
Blue eyes smiling gently
We held hands without a care

Frozen cornfields gather crows
Green mountains covered snow
Lord we loved together snug
Lights in coach turned low

Boston now seems like a dream
Forget about our schemes
And the fickle moon-glow
Its all so lost — so lost –
And tonight I’m feelin’ low

Paul Harvey’s God Made A Farmer Goes Viral

Future Farmers of America get 1 Million from Chrysler now.. great followup story here..

Ten MILLION hits, a few came from the post below. Thanks friends.

Jim

 

http://www.detroitnews.com/article/20130207/AUTO0101/302070463/1361/Chrysler-Super-Bowl-ad-tops-10-million-viewings

A Vermont Farm Son Story

 

And God told my father “Get away from the evilness of New York City to raise your family” so he moved under His guidance to northern Vermont.

And using money that he had saved, he bought a run-down ramshackle hardscrabble dirt farm in the Cold Hollow Mountains close to Quebec, where the towns have the names of Saints and Martyrs. And where, for the most part, God is not dead.

It was there on a trip to purchase heifers that father met my mother.

And God saw that this was right and good and rewarded James and Marie with two daughters and three sons over the years. And God said “Let them be teachers and scholars and tillers of the soil and carers of the beasts and let the children and the cows and the lambs and the dogs and cats and the parents love each other in the Land of Green”.

And thus it was so.

And James and Marie worked side by side under the blue skies and brisk northwinds to plant the crops and milk the cows and raise up the boys and girls in the way that they should go. And it was hard yet fruitful, plain but simple.

And yet it was good.

And James the Senior was blessed with mechanical mind and a sure hand, so he could weld with surgical precision the split frame of the old truck, and improvise a waterpump gasket on the ancient haybaler with a donut box and paint to get the hay in before the blow and thus save the expense and time lost of a trip to town to the parts store. And hundreds of other skills that a farmer needs every day.

And James the Junior, blessed with the tools of his father and the handiness thus imparted, has seen fit to repair a leaking kitchen sink on a Sunday morning, using a radiator hose from an ’86 Buick and a roll of duct tape.

And James the Senior and Marie passed along their accumulated knowledge of the land and the cows and the farm to their children who practice the art inexpertly today — haywiring the old equipment, patching the torn overalls because a new pair of Carhartts are fifty bucks and money doesn’t grow on trees.

And God saw to the peace of the land by endowing the maple trees which grace that hardscrabble farm in Cold Hollow Land. Giving us green and growing things, the lowing of the contented cattle after feeding and milking, the goodness of the crackling country music station drifting into the barn from the milkhouse door, soothing both man and beasts –  fish in the creek, the deer in the cornfields, an occasional moose, bear and eagle to enjoy.

As James and Marie and their family love the land, so they love the life of the land, and the ties that it brings to life and their loving family.

Life is good — and life is precious and so are the Keeper and Trustees of the Land.

God bless America, and all who farm and serve the farmer.

c. 2013 Jim Zee All Rights Reserved

Best Superbowl Ad: Paul Harvey’s God Made A Farmer

Jim’s Take:  I watched this ad tonight during the Superbowl with my mother and father. We’re farmers all, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. We all grew up listening to Harvey’s noontime 15 minute broadcasts on the ancient AM radio either in the barn, the house or the truck.

God bless you, Mr. Harvey. The broadcast world needs more of your kind of talent and insight.

To Dodge and their ad agency:  Bravo. This one is one of the best. Ever.  UPDATE: Even CNN Agrees!

Jim Z.

And on the 8th day, God looked down on his planned paradise and said, “I need a caretaker.” So God made a farmer.

God said, “I need somebody willing to get up before dawn, milk cows, work all day in the fields, milk cows again, eat supper and then go to town and stay past midnight at a meeting of the school board.” So God made a farmer.

“I need somebody with arms strong enough to rustle a calf and yet gentle enough to deliver his own grandchild. Somebody to call hogs, tame cantankerous machinery, come home hungry, have to wait lunch until his wife’s done feeding visiting ladies and tell the ladies to be sure and come back real soon — and mean it.” So God made a farmer.

God said, “I need somebody willing to sit up all night with a newborn colt. And watch it die. Then dry his eyes and say, ‘Maybe next year.’ I need somebody who can shape an ax handle from a persimmon sprout, shoe a horse with a hunk of car tire, who can make harness out of haywire, feed sacks and shoe scraps. And who, planting time and harvest season, will finish his forty-hour week by Tuesday noon, then, pain’n from ‘tractor back,’ put in another seventy-two hours.” So God made a farmer.

God had to have somebody willing to ride the ruts at double speed to get the hay in ahead of the rain clouds and yet stop in mid-field and race to help when he sees the first smoke from a neighbor’s place. So God made a farmer.

God said, “I need somebody strong enough to clear trees and heave bails, yet gentle enough to tame lambs and wean pigs and tend the pink-combed pullets, who will stop his mower for an hour to splint the broken leg of a meadow lark. It had to be somebody who’d plow deep and straight and not cut corners. Somebody to seed, weed, feed, breed and rake and disc and plow and plant and tie the fleece and strain the milk and replenish the self-feeder and finish a hard week’s work with a five-mile drive to church.

“Somebody who’d bale a family together with the soft strong bonds of sharing, who would laugh and then sigh, and then reply, with smiling eyes, when his son says he wants to spend his life ‘doing what dad does.’” So God made a farmer.

If This Is Poetry, I’m Bill Gates

http://www.breitbart.com/Big-Government/2013/01/21/Obama-inaugural-poet-bores-audience

Take a minute to read the above URL.

If Richard Blanco (0r the Pres) thinks this is poetry, they’re both delusional.

When crap starts masquerading as art, the art movement is doomed.

Jim Zee.