We Ain't Mainstream

We ain't mainstream,

But we're swimming in the same stream.

We're dreaming the same dream,

Just me and you.

People say we're crazy,

But that don't faze me;

I know it's true.

We ain't mainstream.

Yep, a little country chorus. Why all the country, you ask? Didn't I grow up bathed in the glory of rock-n-roll? Of course, and I wouldn't have it any other way! But any genre that can pull off a song entitled "Drop Kick Me, Jesus, Through the Goalposts of Life" is for me. That's fun stuff.

Plus, country and crossover artists are the only ones who use and perform other songwriters' lyrics. Singer/songwriters write or cowrite and perform their own songs...which is also what any lyricist or composer must do. Gotta have words and music to make a song.

Besides, I'm more than a little bit country when it comes to music appreciation. The minute I graduated from the University of Missouri, I headed for Austin, Texas. I spent my childhood (defined as ages 5-21) in Missouri, around Kansas City. Mainly Lee's Summit and a little bitty town called Lone Jack.

And for the next 30 years in Texas, I did my best to squander my youth (defined as ages 21-51) in the Music Capital of the World. Rode wildly through the cowboy outlaw years with Willie, Waylon, and the Boys...and the Flatlanders...and Jerry Jeff Walker...well, ALL the boys! And I loved every minute of the time and the music. I love lyin', cheatin', cryin', laughin', lovin' songs. What a hoot!

Well, I got married in there (at age 38) and calmed down a bit...I think. Hon?

Now, in Colorado, I'm heading for the last roundup (defined as 51-109+). That gives me plenty more time to sell at least one dang song...and write plenty more rhymes.

Age Rules

My hair's too long and therefore wrong

For someone over forty.

And I should drive a minivan

Instead of something sporty.

It's time to lose my faded jeans

And look and act my age.

I need to hit the rocking chair —

The world's a Next Gen stage.

Well, sorry, I don't own a dress;

I'll let my freak flag fly,

And there are lots more rules to break

Before the day I die.

I'm going to push the envelope before I kick the bucket.

And if that's something "they" don't like....fuck it!

Life Is Short

There; another cliche. Aren't they just too, too handy? I'll certainly try to avoid overusing them.

In 2007, when I was 57, I wondered what the hell I was doing with my life, so I read a book I bought my husband years ago — Zen and the Art of Making a Living — and realized I wanted to write songs. It seemed to suit me, according to the book and my mind at that time. I still agree with — and have — that determination.

However, I'm not a fool, and I'm not even a singer or musician. I'm a novice competing against a million singer/songwriters. The odds are against me blah blah blah. But I don't care! I'm still running against the wind, because it's what I want to do and it's fun.

Now, a mere two years later, I've learned that it was the beginning of looking ahead to the end rather than looking back to the beginning. This is a good thing, because it signals a turning point. When my mother died in 2003, I was suddenly looking back all the time, for the past several years. Sadness, of course. Regrets, sure. Too many to mention, and not the point.

The point is now, about to turn 60, I understand mortality in a more than intellectual way. I can see the end of me. I sure as hell don't want it, and I will resist it until it is forced upon me, but there it is...ahead. And I've decided to live the next 40 years (yeah, yeah, I know; just humor me on this) differently from the last 40...even though they've been great. I feel like a grown-up for the first time, weird as that sounds.

I don't know exactly what that means in all ways; that's the adventure. I'll let you know as I discover the meaning and the changes I will make. But one of them is to do my writing of rhyme in various ways. And so I have started that long, bumpy ride to the end, still changing, still learning, still hoping.

Life Is Short

Life is short.

You live; you die.

You laugh; you cry.

You sing; you sigh.

You swear to truth

And tell a lie.

Things go awry;

You wonder why.

You fly so high;

Eat humble pie.

You live; you die.

Hello. Good-bye.

Love Is a Two-Way Street

You hit town in your old truck,

I watched as you went by.

I thought it was a stroke of luck

That I had caught your eye.

That night we went out to the Moose Lodge dance,

And both of us felt the strong rush of romance.

I let loose of my caution and let my heart take the chance

That you knew love is a two-way street.

CHORUS

Love is a two-way street.

If you go down the road of life with only tunnel vision

You better be ready for a head-on collision

'Cause love is a two-way street.

If we're not riding side-by-side, we'll go head to head.

When your light turns green, mine will be red.

You'll wish that I was with you, but you'll be alone instead.

Love is a two-way street.

Turns out I should have steered clear.

Turns out you were born stone deaf.

Whenever I spoke, you couldn't hear.

You had to be right, so I left.

The moral of this story is about as old as dirt:

If you treat your woman wrong, you're in a world of hurt.

Men who never listen are men who've never learned

That love is a two-way street.

This is an admittedly wacky country lyric waiting for a melody. It may never get one, and I'm quite sure it won't be my big hit (heh heh). But it's a good writing exercise...and you never know!

I have a melody in my head, but I'm not a musician. I need and want a cowriter, because I'm determined to sell a song. So that's one thing I have to do in my 60s, and I'm trying. If Chris can figure out how to get an mp3 on here, I'll put on the three songs I have demo'd now.

Why Now?

There's no time like the present,

And now is all we have (how Zen!).

Time is of the essence;

If not now, then when?

Ah, cliches. They're so true, you're not supposed to even use them in writing. "Too common," they say. Bah! Use them; abuse them; reuse them. What the hell?

Did you see the comments? What fun! Let me introduce my followers: Chris(tine) Buffalo Bartlow Wilson is my dear, very old, in-fact-ancient friend from college; we met in 1968. That guy there is my husband, Jim. (He's much cuter in person!) Anonymous is, well, who knows? But he/she is channeling Ogden Nash, which is always fun!

I didn't study poetry (duh!). As Jim says so eloquently, I'm just a rhymer. And anyone can be a rhymer, so give it a try, too. We'll all appreciate it here.

Why Rhyme?

I was weaned on Mother Goose,

And I grew up with Dr. Seuss,

So I like playing fast and loose

With words and rhyme and rhythm.

There are those who like free verse,

But I think it's a modern curse.

Poems without rhymes are the worst...

Want nothing to do with 'em.

Actually, some free verse is okay, if it establishes a tone and rhythm all its own, and some rhyming so-called poetry is the worst. At least free verse doesn't try to force words to rhyme that shouldn't or don't, and many rhyme-writers complete forget that rhythm is integral to an effective rhyming poem or lyric.

Mainly I write rhymes (poems, ditties, song lyrics) because it's fun.

The girl just wants to have fun!

It's a Start

Life is good;

Life is fun.

Too bad we only

Just get one.

(You don't like this? Pierce my heart!

What the hell — it's just a start.)