Old world wisdom, new world insight – poems, poetry, philosophy, dreams, commentary, ideas

Daddy Whipped Cream

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by Lawrence J. J. Leonard

Every time he sings, it’s the blues;
so incredible.
Emotions take a walk in his shoes;
its infallible.

Melody and lyrics a sledge-hammer –
Try to push him over the edge?
He ain’t irascible.

Dynamic rods and cones. 
I see his frown each time he moans.

By day he is guitar’s wrath of Khan
– maniacal.

At night the stars show him the path
of the zodiacal.

His heart can croon the heat of old flame,
just like a canticle,

but memories are like a con game
that stop a ventricle.

I feel his hurt down to my bones.
Enigmatic songs he groans.

Good love gone bad is attainable,

Embracing sorrows inescapable,

There’s a pluck on the strings
over a gravelly voice
that makes me sigh and cry
as if I had no choice.

More than a jazzman
who lifts me then lets me fall.
He is the sandman,
a pallbearer, after all.

When his betrothed tears away
for a richer promise
then comes crawling back,
he’s the Doubting Thomas,
describing the wounds
and haughty old pride
he used to keep for himself
inside, inside.

Once he makes us laugh,
then comes a smile of sloe gin
with a soul crushing tune of despair to begin

Remember Carafa
of means, so fair,
who gave but a wink, now’s no longer there?

What could have been
is not sad as what was not.
The banjo recounts his forlorn lot.

“Oh Lord, my, my, like you, like you
I am feeling nothing else but blue.
My eyes are red, my soul is black,
my arms are aching for the one I lack.

“One hundred times
I have taken that test
it seems I fail to love
the one who’s best.”

Dynamic rods and cones. 
I see his frown each time he moans.

I feel his hurt down to my bones.
Enigmatic songs he groans.

That’s why they call him Daddy Whipped Cream.
He’s an old woman’s wish, and the young woman’s dream.

Copyright © 1960-2017 Lawrence J. J. Leonard All rights reserved.

Author: SpindoctorUSA

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