Joey

Joey

 

Joey sits at the store on Bloomfield Avenue

Life buzzes on by but he’s got a great view

It’s a hard world and we all gotta earn our pay

But dreaming is free so here’s to a better day

 

In life Joey wants five stars

A double bass with triple guitars

I’m on my way to a paying gig

I’m one break away from hitting it big

 

He writes his words down because hey you never know

We had humble starts before playing the show

Joey looks in the mirror and sees fantasy

Hey baby there ain’t no reason why that can’t be me

 

In life Joey wants five stars

A double bass with triple guitars

I’m on my way to a paying gig

I’m one break away from hitting it big

 

Life is a long and winding grind

Before you start you’re left behind

Ain’t nothing more precious than peace of mind

If you can see you realize we’re all blind

 

Joey’s days are long and paying his dues never ends

He counts his blessings one by one health and good friends

At night Joey walks home he looks to heaven high

He might not make it but he’ll give it his best try

 

In life Joey wants five stars

A double bass with triple guitars

I’m on my way to a paying gig

I’m one break away from hitting it big 

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Biztopia

Biztopia

 

By John Kaniecki

 

Mister Grumblecock was a traveling salesman

A dinosaur in this virtual age of click and buy

But he is an element in the overall Master Plan

A first hand witness who can effectively lie

All the while keeping a smile upon his face

 

Mister Grumblecock is a man of luxury

Who will not settle for the common whore

While drowning himself with martinis into obscurity

His sole desire is more, more and of course more

Like a false gospel with promises void of grace

 

Biztopian experts desire an asphalt domain

A world where digits on a computer are supreme

“It is good for business” no reason to explain

Efficiency and compliance the ultimate dream

Who cares if Mother Earth has a desecrated face?

 

Mister Grumblecock is experienced in the deal

Weapons, narcotics, sex slaves, it’s all the same

At the end of the day nothing is truly real

Everybody is a piece in a gigantic chess game

What is wrong with keeping the poor in their place?

 

Mister Grumblecock sits riding in a jet plane

Lusting after the stewardess desiring a tryst

He is a fine businessman, what more to explain?

Still in his mind a lingering doubt does persist

Exactly why is he running so hard in this race?

 

Mister Grumblecock died of a heart attack

Not a single person cared enough to mourn

In this world of life we can never go back

It’s a one way street from the day we’re born

Mister Grumblecock always the Jack never the ace

Check out Poet To The Poor