David Michael Jackson Poems

Born in Texas Lyrics by David Michael Jackson

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I WAS BORN IN TEXAS

I was born in Texas and raised in Louisiana
an’ I’m goin’ down to alabam
gonna eat me some good smoked ham
head on down to New Orleans
with my baby in them sweet blue jeans
but I ain’t goin back to Texas
I was born in Texas and raised in Louisiana
an’ I’m goin’ down to Baton Rouge
gonna find me som Cajun food
head on down to New Orleans
with my baby in them sweet blue jeans
but I ain’t goin back to Texas
An’ you don’ have to ask why
I know it’s plain to see
the Texas blue sky
has seen the last of me

I was born in Texas and raised in Louisiana
an’ I’m goin’ down to Tennessee
gonna find out what they have to eat
head on down to New Orleans
with my baby in them sweet blue jeans
but I ain’t goin back to Texas
no I ain’t……goin’ back to Texas

***

Just Write a Poem Poem By David Michael Jackson

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So,
we’ll just write a poem
yessir
just sit down and write
a poem of love
of rescue, of
summer breeze and
removal of hate,
a poem that says
we were here
and the flowers were wiser,
and the animals were wiser than we,
we rescuers of ourselves,
always rescueing ourselves.
Be like my cat.
See how she
loves,
truly loves the
cream.

the groove poem by H.E. Hasben

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smoke a joint, man, I mean
get off center,
cruise.
You ever cruise?
Yeah man just
gliiiiiiide
let the winds take you
man.
That woman she done said too much
done
let go of the groove.
Man there were days when
it flowed, the
groove,
like molassis on a hot stove.
we were young then
things mattered, we still thought
things mattered,
like we were young actors
waiting for discovery and
not knowing what that meant.
Yeah man those were the days
Chill out dude
time will get you quickly enough
so let the fresh air in
and grooooove
dude

Let’s Love Each Other Again

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Let’s Love Each Other Again.mp3 by Laura Longon

Lyrics David Jackson

Melody Laura Longon

String arrangement Chris Carmichael

Here are the lyrics if you’d like to sing along:

Don’t be a stranger.

Don’t drift away from me.

I’m sorry it matters

It matters so much to see

You do those little things that make me think

that you don’t want me anymore

Don’t be a stranger

Don’t drift away from me

Why don’t we go somewhere

go somewhere and just sit down

and say all those little things

those little things

that matter most,

scatter these tears on the winds of love

and love each other again.

Why don’t we go somewhere,

go somewhere and just sit down

Why not love each moment

why not sing the songs of love

Are all our moments stolen

Let’s love each other again

Oh let’s love each other again

You can’t hear these words

You can’t wonder why

I sit here and think of you, think of you

I sit here and cry

Let’s go somewhere and talk again

Let’s go somewhere and end this pain.

You can’t hear these words

Oh You can’t wonder why

Why not love each moment

why not sing the songs of love.

Are all our moments stolen

Let’s love each other again

Oh let’s love each other again

Oh it doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter why or when

let’s love each other again

via Modern Music Nashville.

That Car Song

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My mom died last year. She and I kinda wrote this song. We were talking on the phone and I wrote down some things she said. She spoke of a car of course and the conversation shifted to others in my family. In writing the song I threw in my wife’s green eyes.

The words so sound like my mother as I read them tonight. I have re-mixed this song to emphasize Andy Derryberry on guitar and bass. I rocked it up as best as my music can be rocked. For me the song is certainly American and sounds like a mother talking about her children. I can’t do my songs justice so they will be lost. It’s a shame on this one.

An artist cannot share the feelings for the art. Whether the world thinks its good or not, the artist feels like a father and mother to the art. It’s an intense feeling that no object deserves but it’s there. It’s there. An artist wants the art to survive, to not end up rotting in some garage or, in the case of music, disappearing completely. It’s not a small feeling.

I think of a place where all the lost objects are, an entropy collection place for all the lost pens, screws and things that disappear. In that giant pile of lost things is art.

Ah poems and songs. Songs don’t come easily for anybody. With poems you can roll your angst into a ball and throw it at the wall. Songs on the other hand only seem to come along occasionally like a drunk that demands liquor right then. They appear and they have to get out and then they are gone. I don’t know if there is another song because I have to wait for the train again. It’s not like a poem. These boxes constantly demand a poem and I deliver them like milk. With a song I have to wait for the train as I swear to never write another.

That Car

More from David

 
He really loves that car
He admired it from afar
He went down one day
and drove it away.
Oh he really smiled that day.
And he really loves that girl.
It’s a romance for all of the world.
They met one sunny afternoon
when the shadows were scattered just right.
She wore green to match her eyes
on that very very first night.
Yes he really loves that girl.
You can see them everywhere.
Cruising around town
having fun.
You can’t get them down
because they’re like one.
Oh they really love life.
They sip it like fine wine.
They are a shining star.
And they really love that car
They go everywhere.
yes they really love that car.
It’s red.
yes they really love that car.
I sure love them
and they really love that car.

david michael jackson july 20, 2012 editors@artvilla.com send origami