The Lolita Express - to the tune of "Marrakesh Express" (Nash)
The Lolita Express (Jeffrey's Song)
Looking at young girls With ill intent in mind Trying to make them feel They’re safe and will be fine Checking out their tiny bods Hoping that they don’t think that we’re odd I want me one that’s dressed in gingham blue!
Come here, honey, take a ride on Uncle’s lap Don’t you worry ‘bout that bulge, it’s my Stick Chap! Got something special for you Let me do what I want to; Just don’t tell your folks or they might sue.
Guess you know we’re riding On the Lolita Express It’s great to be riding on the Lolita Express, We’re taking you on the Express Hop aboard the plane, Hop aboard the plane
We’ll pay you a lotta money if you go with us Even more if you don’t fuss.
We’re the FBI and we’ve been watching you Just think what your cell mates they are gonna do to you! We’re gonna nail you to the wall You are gonna have to take the fall Give it up now, you know you all are screwed! (Get yer bung holes ready!)
There’ll be no more riding on the Lolita Express! Yeah, you know we are a-grounding the Lolita Express! There will be no more Express! There’ll be no more riding on the Lolita Express! Yeah, you know we are a-grounding the Lolita Express! There will be no more Express! Climb aboard your chains Get on board your chains, Get used to your chains!
REMAKES is so much fun. Also, it is sad that we see the death of original, new ideas. Bravo.
Okay, I got a bit nervous reading Lolita Express. However, we know such grooming is a reality. (And a shame.) Also, the pervs got caught and punished in your poem. Great!! Yes, I could hear that song in the background.
REMAKES is so much fun. Also, it is sad that we see the death of original, new ideas. Bravo.
Okay, I got a bit nervous reading Lolita Express. However, we know such grooming is a reality. (And a shame.) Also, the pervs got caught and punished in your poem. Great!! Yes, I could hear that song in the background.
Thank you, Joan, sorry about the creepiness!
I hope to have a more soulful poem in the next day or so.
Here's another one for three of my favorite FSM Poets!
"Hey, You Poets (FSM)" - to the tune of Hey, Bulldog (Lennon/McCartney)
Hey, You Poets (FSM)
Tall Guy, you’re a jolly sort! I love, how you make such sport Your lyrics make me want to laugh until I cry Your humor really makes you such a special guy!
Dogbelle, love your videos! You’re so, excellent at prose! I often wonder where you get such great ideas And I look forward to much more in coming years!
Your words speak to me Your words speak to me Your words speak to me And I love you cause you speak to me!
(Instrumental Interlude)
Joan Hue, what else can I say With words, you've got such a way You make me think sometimes In ways I never have You never fail to give me pause and make me glad!
Your words speak to me Your words speak to me Your words speak to me And I love you cause you speak to me!
Amazing, Jackfu. First let me say that you including a youtube of the songs really helps me get into your poems because I know for sure that I don't have the wrong songs in my mind. Thanks for posting those.
Really enjoyed Doc Holliday. My favorite line was Corral OK. Love that reversal.
I'm honored to be in the poem "Hey, You Poets" along side of Tall Guy and Dogbelle. Really enjoyed your "poetic" insights into we three FSMers. Appreciate you!! Thanks.
As I sat in my room alone. night had paid me a visit. Only a night light gave a window into the dining room. On the top of a table in the corner were two whiskey bottles. one near empty, the other full. Between them was part of me. Each bottle cast a different shadow on the wall from the glow of the night light. The near-empty bottle shadow , was magnified by the curved of the bottle. The shadowy color was tinted by the brown fluid in the bottle. It had became darken by the liquid of the near-empty bottle. Whiskey has done its job on my friend. The other still full , its shadow was defused by the content it held, light that passed had many shades of yellow, projected on my wall. Still sealed, covered with dust. might be? what might have been! if not for the first. time for bed, I must find some comfort there. To put my thoughts to sleep. =================================================== Jackfu - you must be working overtime. good stuff. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Joan - still has a teachers heart. I must admit. Joan does write with style and wit. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tallguy - your cockney accent is kill me.(I hope I did not insult you. I know nothing about Brit humor. just what I seen on Monty Python)(God help us all.)
I'm honored to be in the poem "Hey, You Poets" along side of Tall Guy and Dogbelle. Really enjoyed your "poetic" insights into we three FSMers. Appreciate you!! Thanks.
Heh, yes, thanks, Jackfu. Appreciate it even though I’m happier behind the camera than in front of it!
Tallguy - your cockney accent is kill me.(I hope I did not insult you. I know nothing about Brit humor. just what I seen on Monty Python)(God help us all.)
Cockney?! That’s it, my writing career is over! I’d be a cut-price Bill Carson!
It’s more Last of the Summer Wine than Only Fools and Horses...
Fantastic poem, though, my friend. Atmospheric and thoughtful.
Almost past Second and Union Street, I brake hard, turning left into the cemetery, my child’s home for two years. Driving past it twice each day to job and home, my thoughts stray, almost forgetting this daily meeting.
I pull between two pines, light a shaking cigarette and wait.
Your laughter slopes over flat headstones. Floating above ground, toes pointed down like a ballerina’s, you part well-mown grass. We wave. Absorbing into my car, you ask about my day. I ramble, staring at the artistry of your smile, perfection of your face and I never ask how yours was.
You disappear at my last word. Just me left, throat sealed, hands gripping the wheel while listening to the idle of my engine.
I drive to the house with your presence, heavier than snapped bones’ pain, yet wrapped around me like a warm supple shawl. You are always tonight’s nightmare, soft blanket and cradle pillow.
I promise. Tomorrow I’ll turn easily into you, no drifts before my arrival. It’s too unbearable seeing your recognition of those tiny tidbits of time when thoughts of you are not sponging my life from me.
LOOKING FOR THE SHEPARD. My feeling, it's lost I tell you. just not there. I walked over to the humidor, picked a good strong cigar. I placed myself in the big old lazy boy. I took a sip of my whiskey and then lite the cigar. A strong flavor rolled over my tongue. my nose, filled with a aroma of sea and spices. Smoke from the cigar filled the darkened room with white grayish clouds. I drifted in my mind looking for comfort. lost! yes, I was lost. Lost days, lost nights. I took a deep draw on the cigar. It filled my body with strong smoke. It satisfied the senses. Oh! what the hell I said to myself, I poured another shot. The lingering smoke that filled the room started to take on a shape. It shook me to the bone. Who are you? The voice said are you lost? Who are you! I bolted from the chair. In front of the room stood a man. He calmly said to me "I have been sent by the one who loves you" What does he want? the answer "The Shepard needs you to return".
