Orange Sky: A Song for Southern Immigrants by TOMA

 

Orange Sky: A Song for Southern Immigrants by TOMA 7.28.19

Mixed version

 

Cuando les preguntas, what’s her name?

I’m not sure they’ll remember, de dónde vino

But ask a Frenchman, he’s sure to know, lo tiene en sus venas

And I’m sure if you look closer, you’ll know, quién tiene la culpa

 

Somewhere a man has nothing to call his own

And he’s looking for something to call his own

And he realizes, he’s only got one life that’s his own

Over the border is a sunrise, all its own

 

Un hombre dice un cliché: “The best things in life are free”

Un otro hombre argumenta: “What’s the price of liberty?”

“Depends who’s asking” dice uno, living in poverty

Se ríe otro, “What of the white man’s manifest destiny?”

 

Un hombre no tiene nada que llamar suyo

El busca algo para llamarlo propio

El sabe que tiene una vida que es suya

Sobre la frontera es un amanecer, todo su propio

 

When you take one man’s freedom for the comfort of another

That ain’t no way to treat a brother

Father, sister, cousin, baby, mother

Watch how the human race treats each other

 

Un hombre no tiene nada que llamar suyo
And he’s looking for something to call his own

El sabe que tiene una vida que es suya

Over the border is a sunrise, un cielo naranja

I love you

I can not say more plainly than is this:

I love you. Without you, I am but lost.

Destiny’s answer warmly in our lips.

What had been my life, suddenly all tossed;

There just couldn’t be any other way;

But this only one chance in life, to share.

To hold you, feel you, nothing need I say?

You can sense my presence and know I care.

When I look into your eyes, hear your voice,

I lose all the world, my soul escapes me.

Do you feel it, too? Have no other choice?

Two for one heart, one soul, one voice, you see?

I can’t say more plainly that I love you.

Just look at me…. Tell me you love me, too.

 


Earlier version:

I can not say more plainly than is this:

I love you. Without you I just am lost.

It all started due to one simple kiss.

I fell completely, no thought of the cost.

There couldn’t be, for us, another way;

But only this one chance in life, to share.

To see you every day, what can I say?

To know that you are near, and that I care.

When I look into your eyes, hear your voice,

I lose all the world, my soul escapes me.

Do you feel it, too? Have no other choice?

If “we” becomes “us,” can set us both free…

I can’t say more plainly that I love you.

Just look at me…. Tell me you love me, too.

 


This idea was had, after I once again heard a discussion on BBC regarding Lyrical Ballads, the seminal book of poetry, written in 1789 that kicked off the Romantic movement in poetry. In the preface, Wordsworth talks of using “plain” English, or the language of ordinary people in lieu of the classical language of poets, bent on allusions to classical Greece and Rome and high minded, intellectual phrases, “art for art’s sake,” designed only for a highly literate aristocratic elite, with language flowery and glowing–out of touch with the common man. They had also selected in their characters, folksy or common people who might have live on the edges of society, a characteristic taken from William Blake in his book, Songs of Innocence.

I also have been listening to the Beatles lately and have rekindled my love for their music but found strikingly in their early work, a plain style, too–simple rhymes, words of 3 and 4 letters strewn throughout, very elementary–“I want to hold your hand,”… “Dance with me…” ” I want to hold you tight…” All my loving I will give to you… darling be true..” Simple, effective, the language of kids, teens, and a majority class of an English speaking populace around the world. It cuts directly to the core of the matter, quickly, succinctly, and more poignantly, really.

Thus, I used this method to construct in a backwards fashion, these lines: way, say;be, me;get, met;hand,can;carry, marry; love, above;lost, cost;this, miss. Although, it came out differently, it was an approach I wanted to utilize on this subject since the phrase “I love you” holds everything that this world has to offer, and to let it stand among the most simplest requests of love in return.

 

——

In thrones, on stages, love in pages rent  

In thrones, on stages, love in pages rent

Drawn into, dragged, all for two lovers’ sake.

The gathering tumult, swelling hearts’ swept

To ruin, shattered lives in passions’ wake.

What they strive for in life, some get in death.

Embers stoking spirits’ fiery flames

Ships asail, black or white? Berries? thread?

Against friend, station, vows, shall lose their names

Disjointed souls in caskets side by side

By sword, potion, venomed fangs of an asp,

In heaven, the promise in the divine

They wait for a return, beyond their grasp

What care I , the world, as destruction rips

From pennies to sovereigns, for kissing lips.

 

 

 

——————————————-

Drafts and interworkings:

2) Last bit of musings:

Must our hearts mirror these epic chapters?

Is true love destined for such disasters?

Such high antics, a play for kissing lips

Where everything crashes and rips?

Penny to a sovereign, for kissing lips

The Torrent! Come waves! Come crashing! Blasts! Rips!

Waves come crashing, ‘gainst everything rips

Such high antics, a play for kissing lips

Defy, rail ‘gainst the world for kissing lips

True love blinds all the world for kissing lips

 

What care I , the world, as  destruction rips

 

Initial idea:

1) ‘Gainst a name, truest frient, swept, stolen, held( Romeo and Juliet, Adultery)

In thrones, on stages, love in pages rent(Tristan, Arthur, Antony)

Armies in ruin, Trojan, Sparta, all of England swept

To their ruin, reunited, shattered lives in their wake

Armies in ruin, Trojan, Sparta, all of England swept(Paris and Helen, Antony and Cleopatra)

(Adultry, Breaking Vows, Passion)Love breathing oxygen to a fire’s flame(Arthur-Lancelot/Guinevere, Agamemnon-Clytmestra/Aegisthus, Mark of Cornwall-Tristan/Iseult. Menalaus-Paris/Helen)

Save for ships asail, black or white, yarn spinners, needle, thread (Tristan & Isolt, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty)

Who wait patiently, devout, awaiting return of their loved one (Odysseus, all)

What they want in life, some get in death (Romeo and Juliet, Tristan and Iseult, Pyramis and Thisbe, Antony and Cleopatra)

By sword, potion, poisoned weapon, asp, broken heart

Disjointed souls, vaulted to heaven, escape to heaven as quickly as they can,  or in caskets side by side

In eternity, the promise of togetherness in the divine

Does this one true love, set such course for disaster

Where two exist as one, with no such love ever after

Must heart’s truest love tear from the same chapter?

What lowely vassel, peasant, yeoman, trades enlist in this charade.

Should I like, a mortal soul , enlist in this charade?

The tales:

Anthony and Cleoptra, tied in death by sword and asp POLITICAL FIGURES, MALE KILLS FIRST, THEN FEMALE, FAMILIES/CULTURES DON’T ALLOW. THEY LOVE.

Lancelot and Guinnevere, adulterous lovers, their sin, made them separate outcasts CHIVALRY, BEST FRIEND’S WIFE, ADULTURY, EACH SECUND TO THEIR OWN DESERTED PLACE, VAGABOND, MONESTARY, BREAKS THE CHIVARLIC CODE. THEY LOVE.

Romeo and Juliet at first sight, YOUNG LOVE, FIRST LOVE, MALE KILLS FIRST THEN FEMALE. POLITICAL, FAMILIES/CULTURES DON’T ALLOW. THEY LOVE.

Iseult, Isolde, 2 sails love and betrayal, ADULTURY, BEST FRIEND’S WIFE, USES SECOND WOMAN WHO IS A MIRROR OF FIRST LOVE, PROJECTS THAT LOVE ON ANOTHER IN ITS PLACE, DYING, AWAITS WORD TO SEE HER OWN LAST TIME, IF WHITE SAIL YES, BLACK SAIL NO, TIMING IS OFF, AND HE SEES BLACK SAIL AND DIES, UNREQUITED LOVE.

Paris and Helena, stolen, abducted spark the Trojan War. SHE IS STOLEN. HELD CAPTIVE AGAINST HER WILL. POLITICAL. ENTIRE COUNTRIES GO TO WAR, ENTIRE ARMIES DIE BECAUSE OF THEIR ACTIONS. TROJANS(GREEK/TROY/ HELEN AND MENALAUS) AND SPARTANS(GREEK/SPARTA/PARIS). SHE IS REUNITED WITH HER LOVE.

Odysseus and Penelope, after so long gone, wait, pine, return, 20 years, worth waiting for. HE REMAINS FAITHFUL EVEN ON ISLAND OF CALYPSO. NEVERENDING FAITH, DEVOUT, RETURN TO HIS LOVE. SHE ALSO FENDS OFF SUITORS TO ALSO BE FAITHFUL. DEVOUT TOGETHER UNTIL REUNITED. REUNITED.

Bonnie and Clyde, outlaws in crime and murder.

Sid and Nancy, star crossed junkies,

Rochester, Mr. Darcy(class), and Heathcliff(outsider/heathen/foreigner), OUTCAST BY CLASS, STATUS, STATION

Layla and Majnun

Pyramis and Thesbe, POLITICAL FAMILIES HATE ONE ANOTHER. THEY ELOPE. HE THINKS SHE HAS BEEN KILLED BY A LION. HE KILLS HIMSELF WITH SWORD, SHE THEN TOO. THEY DIE TOGETHER by the Mulberry tree in death, the blood changed the color of the mulberrys from white to red.

Snow white: Brought to life by a KISS. The one who will deliver one true love can only be by the ONE true act of the KISS, the perfect match, like the sword and the stone. DESTINY. TRUE LOVE IS WRITTEN. FORETOLD. THERE IS PREDESTINATION. GOD ABOVE HAS ANNOINTED OR PRESCRIBED EACH PERSON’S HAPPINESS ON EARTH. MEANT TO BE. FATE. ALL THAT IS TO BE WAS ALREADY WRITTEN.

Rapunzel: Fairy tale, of the resquer, the one to save the female.

Chivalry: she is the reward for his deeds, daring, courtly, jousting, in battle, She is the reward, like property, or the highest value, gotten with the most valor, like our sports, cheerleading, fame, economics and money, etc.

In thrones, on stages, love in pages rent (Tristan, Arthur, Antony)

To their ruin, shattered lives in passion’s wake.

The gathering tumult, armies, swelling hearts swept (Paris and Helen, Antony and Cleopatra)

To their ruin, all for two’s lovers’ sake.

What they strive for in life, some get in death (Romeo and Juliet, Tristan and Iseult, Pyramis and Thisbe, Antony and Cleopatra)

Embers stoking to a fiery flame (Arthur-Lancelot/Guinevere, Agamemnon-Clytmestra/Aegisthus, Mark of Cornwall-Tristan/Iseult. Menalaus-Paris/Helen)

Ships asail, black or white, needle, thread? (Odysseus, Snow White, Isolt)

‘Gainst station, status, vows, shall lose their names ( Romeo and Juliet, Adultry)

Disjointed souls in caskets side by side( Rand J)

By sword, potion, venomed fangs of an asp,(Antony and Cleopatra)

In heaven, the promise in the divine

They wait for a return, beyond their grasp

Does this one true love, set such course for disaster

Where two exist as one, with no such love ever after

Must heart’s truest love tear from the same chapter?

What lowely vassel, peasant, yeoman, trades enlist in this charade.

Should I like, a mortal soul , enlist in this charade?

 

Poetry’s Prison

I am finding that as much as I love writing and reading poetry, it has bona fide limits in its execution. These limitations can be resounding. In a temporal, evaluative, contemplative space, there’s all the room in the universe to think, ponder, ascertain, spot, pontificate, exercise, expound, and eulogize. A perfect world for thought, a space for consideration, and emotive spirit bringing like and unlike things together in metaphor even a place for pronouncement and exhalation.

However, where comes the landscape, context, actors, characters, dialogue, topography, and linear time within a play?

So much is missing around the edges. Perfect for a soliloquy but by whom, for whom? Always the writer’s perspective? His or her own voice?

What chronology of time do we exist? What town, village, or city do we reside? On what dirt or pavement in what corner of the globe? What persuasion? What age, gender, civilization do we hail? To whom is our object and where do all these foundations reside on the other side of the equation? Character or reader, in fact?

Stifling? Sitting at desk.

Situated? Standing at a podium.

Pressed? Recorded by voice with a microphone.

Folded? Stuck in a book.

Muted? A thought for yourself.

And musicians say, that in the audience they find an energy that lifts, the song and melody to new heights, alterations in transitu, so a mutual connection amplifies such a conversation. As the art appears, the give and take of sensory feelings work upon one another. The audience becomes part of the essence of the work. For a poem, it is like the slab of a tombstone embedded in the ground, solitary in some foreign, distant, derelict, left tilted in some obstructed, overgrown field.

At least, a poem can be a coded message sent from one Cell to another, through the bars, by some slip of paper, in the hopes another has the inclination for such amusement in the decoding of it, and the consideration which follows.

 

 

Shadowlight

Shadow light touches me, awakes this life,

Warms the window, light touching at my head.

The wall shapes an hourglass of my wife.

As I stand, the light trails in my stead.

My shadow dances ‘gainst backdrops, slips to,

There, conscience, memory, history, all,

Silent partner to my movements, tilts to,

My trials, ambitions, triumphs, love’s fall.

In all my acts, what would you say, fine friend?

Do you choose to lead instead of follow?

Or severe by magic, extinguish, end?

Which cruel beast doth move? Who, the most hollow?

Sleep, fall two foes, weary jousts disappear

Let dreams salve, be a poultice ’til day nears.

NOTE: https://thevarsity.ca/2016/10/16/for-the-love-of-sport/

 

 

The Splendor

The Splendor by TOMA

 

Version One

 

And I wonder (yes I do) what this world is coming

for children, me and you

And I wonder (better believe it) bout me and you

and what we can do, to change a thing or two

 

Blank Chorus

 

Heard a man (yes I did) that his voice didn’t matter

Can’t remember his religion or the color of his face

Heard a woman say (I swear it) that no one’s ever listening to what I say,

Even when I’m polite about it

 

So what are we to do

Together us few

Raise a hand

Take a stand

For the Splendor of this land

 

And I wonder (does everyone know) what this world has to offer

It’s resting right in the palms of our hands

And I wonder (surely everyone knows) that love is at our command

And we have the freedom to do all that we can

 

So what are we to do

Together us few

Raise a hand

Take a stand

For the Splendor of this land

NOTE: I wrote this song and shared it with Mr. Travis Charbeneau, who liked it so much he wanted to work on it in his studio using his lap steel guitar. He did marvelous work. Sadly, he died of cancer shortly thereafter, and I am so glad to have had my time with him especially for what he has brought to my work.

I wrote this song some ten years ago.

 

Dearest Sparrow

Dearest Sparrow in your foreign Nest

What Skies do you see and hear Tonight?

Does warmth come from Twigs or by silver Crest?

What Dreams unmasked in slumber lend insight?

I wish to unfold my Wings around You

And feel your tiny beating plummaged Breast

And pluck a Feather, a token from You

Grasped in my Talon, forever to rest.

The Night we pranced to Music’s melody

Upon the windy Currents, Wing on Wing

While others floated, spun in parody

Locked, we descended softly on a Limb

I search the Flocks for Images of gray,

Where Hearts, one Spirit, never had to say.

 

 

Marlboro Man

marlboro man

(A Song)

The Marlboro Man*

by TOMA

https://whistlestop.bandcamp.com/

 

I’m thinking about the Marlboro Man

And how I heard the word he’s dead

And wondering how it happened

 

He sat on his horse all day

Smoking his life away

In the great wide open

 

He must have worn some fancy suits

Not just chaps and leather boots

Rugged he was, in or out of the saddle

 

But when you get to give your life

When you had nothing to say, wrong or right

Well that ain’t so bad, is it?

 

CHORUS

Well, the Marlboro Man is dead and gone

No more galloping horses, to carry on

A ripped out page from a Cowboy day

In smoke filled dreams, of the American way

 

Never knew if he shot off a gun

Or if he lost more than he won

But we all knew he was mighty handsome

 

Roping and wrangling all day

Smoking his life away

With a lasso ‘round his shoulder

 

CHORUS

Well, the Marlboro Man is dead and gone

No more galloping horses, to carry on

A ripped out page from a Cowboy day

In smoke filled dreams, of the American way

 

I’m thinking about the Marlboro Man

And how I heard the word he’s dead

And I kinda miss him

 

*Marlboro Men: Darrell hugh Winfield, died January 12th, 2015 at the age of 85. Eric Lawson, January 10th, 2014 at age 72. David Millar, in 1987 at the age of 81. Wayne McLaren, in 1992, at the age of 55. David McLean, in 1995, at the age of 73. Richard “dick” hammer in 1999 at the age of 69. These men died of cigarette smoking related deaths. Christian haren, another marlboro man died of complications related to aids. He was 61 and died in 1996. “Over the course of Marlboro Man’s 45-year history, dozens of men have played the iconic role. The Marlboro Man himself was retired in 1999, after the Tobacco Master Settlement Agreement banned public cigarette billboards in the U.S.” according to TIME, Inc. By Nate Jones. updated 01/28/2014 AT 07:00 PM EST originally published 01/28/2014 AT 04:25 PM EST. http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20780930,00.html

 

 

Out of the marvelous

(A song)

 

The sky turned to yellow

While the blue turned to gray

The evergreens in silhouette turned to purple

As the autumn leaves began fading away

 

And the lavender on the crest of the sky

Still tried to shine its last light

And the leaves turning from green to rust

Still try to parade their colors before turning to dust

 

And as we walk among the shadows

And sing our own songs in the chilly night

And we are just like everything around us

In the quiet, out of the marvelous

 

The sky turned to yellow

While the blue turned to gray

The evergreens in silhouette turned to purple

As the autumn leaves began fading away

 

NOTE: Listen to first draft of song, sung by Ms. Jewel Adgerson: https://www.bandmix.com/whistle-stop/

 

Early in the morning

(A song)

 

Sunlight in the windows

The smell of coffee in the air

Breakfast on the table

Laughter coming down the stairs

 

Cool breezes through the doorways

Birds twittering through the screens

Children running ‘round the table

Such a joyous scene

 

Blank Chorus with “Early in the morning”

 

Life is a conversation

‘Bout money, jobs, and homes

Dogs keep wagging their tails

My how the kids have grown, yet they’re all home

 

And the seasons, they change

And they pass as quickly as summer rains

But we’re all here

Early in the morning

 

There’s nothing we can do that

Will make us stay the same

We all have to go on our own way

It’s just that way

 

And the seasons, they change

And they pass as quickly as summer rains

But we’re all here

Early in the morning

 

NOTE: Listen to first draft of song, sung by Ms. Jewel Adgerson: https://www.bandmix.com/whistle-stop/

This song has an odd tuning/ EBEDAD