Songwriting class at Berklee

Songwriting: Assignment 4

Songwriting Week Three

Songwriting Week Three assignment

Writing songs can be a chore

when all your love is lost, forsaken;

the rhyming spirit comes, then goes,

then from your daydreams you awaken.

You spend your time in vain

trying to write some verse of substance:

these songs won’t soothe your pain.

The rhythm flows, a new creation

distilled from timelessness and void

presents itself and seeks relation

to a world that’s paranoid.

You spend your time in vain

trying to write some verse of substance:

these songs won’t soothe your pain.

And so, you see, it is so useless,

and all your time is spent in vain

trying to write some verse of substance:

these words you write won’t soothe your pain.

Morning Walk Moonset

My Songwriting class week two assignment

The full moon was setting

over the Potomac River

as I crossed Memorial Bridge

into Virginia

on my morning walk

She said, "what'cha doing baby,

walking across that bridge?"

"Just chillin," I replied.

She said, "Why don't cha

come here baby,

chill in my arms?"

NPR was banging my eardrums

a not so subtle attempt to

drown out my own thoughts

my denials turned into outrage

my anger morphing into depression

She said, "what'cha doing baby,

walking across that bridge?"

"just chillin," I responded.

She said, "Why don't cha

come here baby,

chill in my arms?"

Another Blues Song (for banjo, harmonica and fiddle)

My love for you has set my soul on fire

my love for you consumes my every thought

my love for you has forced me to conspire

against us

just to put this fire out

Chorus

Remembering the good old times

And bad new times

And smiles and blues

And rendezvous with you

My love for you is burning me to ashes

my love for you is tearing me apart

my love for you is eating all my stashes

and breaking up

my busted broken heart

Chorus

Remembering the good old times

And bad new times

And smiles and blues

And rendezvous with you

My love for you is making me play hardball

my love for you is making me unkind

my love for you is making me play hardball

I'm going for

a homerun in my mind.

Chorus

Remembering the good old times

And bad new times

And smiles and blues

And rendezvous with you

Remembering the good old times

And bad new times

And smiles and blues

And rendezvous with you

Spring Love

This is an experiment in a songwriting class, a composite of two previously written poems about the same topic, spring love. Note the repetition of pre-chorus and chorus, and the sudden appearance of a bridge towards the end.  This song is looking for a MELODY.  Any takers out there? 

Spring love, you'll see,

was never meant to last.

But fate and chance

have blessed us

to taste its incandescence -

Our paths may never cross again

as in this random moment,

our lips may never meet,

complete, again,

and spring for us, may never reappear -

I tremble at the thought of touching you,

I stumble, as we touch,

as our lips meet,

As our heartbeats synchronize.

This word is all that I possess to share,

and all is all my fragile soul can bear.

Spring love, you see,

was never meant to last:

Its budding branches

tempt us,

with fruit that's bittersweet -

I tremble at the thought of touching you:

I fear your petals may unfold

too soon, and, falling

to the ground, disintegrate.

This word is all that I possess to share,

and all is all my fragile soul can bear.

Spring love intoxicates us:

spirits fuse,

revealing in each

other secret worlds.

I tremble at the thought of touching you,

I stumble, as we touch,

as our lips meet,

As our heartbeats synchronize.

This word is all that I possess to share,

and all is all my fragile soul can bear.

Invitation

“I knew too that through them I knew too that he was though, I knew too that he threw them.  I knew too that they were through, I knew too I knew too, I knew I knew them.”  

“If you can see why she feel that she kneels if you can see why he knows that he shows what he bestows, if you can see why they share what they share, need we question that there is no doubt that by this time if they had intended to come they would have sent some note of such intention.”

"Many others did go and there was a sacrifice, of what shall we, a sheep, a hen, a cock, a village, a ruin, and all that and then that having been blessed let us bless it.”    

Gertrude Stein’s Idem the Same – Let Us Describe

The Queen’s Henchmen

request the pleasure of your company       

at a Lynching – to be held 

at 23rd and C Streets NW

on Tuesday, December 18, 2012 -

just past sunset.     

Dress: Formal, Masks and Hoods -

The four being lynched

Must never know the identities

Of their executioners, or what/

Whose sin required their sacrifice.

A blood sacrifice –

To divert the hounds -

To appease the gods -

To cleanse our filth and

Satisfy our guilty consciences.

Arrive promptly at sunset –

Injustice will be swift.

There will be no trial,

No review of evidence,

No due process, and no

Accountability.

Dress warmly -

A chilling effect will instantly

Envelop Foggy Bottom.

Extrajudicial.

Total impunity.

A kangaroo court in

A banana republic.

B.Y.O.B.

Refreshments will not be served

Because of the continuing resolution.

And the ones being lynched?

Who cares?  They are pawns in a game.

Our game.  All suckers, all fools,

All knaves who volunteered to serve -

Us.  And the truth?  The truth?

What difference at this point does it make?

In case of inclement weather,

Or the Queen’s incapacitation,

Her Henchmen will carry out this lynching -

As ordered, as planned.


Sidney Bechet - Strange Fruit