Music - Monteleone

Observations of Beauty & Insanity as time moves us towards no more...

"We sing, sing, sing, for new beginnings
pray, pray, pray, for all that's gone wrong
until a better rainbow comes along"
from "Paintings of Portraits"

“Maybe Mary gave birth to a savior
Or, maybe she just needed one
in Bethlehem so many years ago
or yesterday in a city slum”
from "Mary"

“It ain’t far from here
where the road turns down
that red fire we call hell
ain’t hidden in the ground”
from "Where the Road Turns Down"

A Short Song
© by John Monteleone - June 15th, 2013

there are too many nothings and too much of not enough
trying to find some peace here in this desperate poker-bluff
i bet you thought it’d get easier but instead it just got tough
trying to win hand by hand hoping for the best
feels like you’re standing on quick sand with no one you can trust
but we got no place to run to got no place to hide
staying where we’ve always been
found ourselves some pride

i was down in alabama or was it someplace-ville?
maybe it was just somewhere in my head
or was it the pits of Mississippi
where bed bugs wait in your bed
I know it was somewhere near an old railroad track
I was a hobo in a novel walking on my back
used to think the world had open arms beyond all them closed doors
now i’m locked up in employment chained by bills to the floor
it’s a boring shame to live inside a mindless tub of sin
but we try to make sense of the mess we put ourselves in
seems like most things we ever valued ends up meaning less and less
and what it exactly it all does mean is anybody’s guess
i’ve walked down a road of nothing towards the darkness in the light
an’ i’m sick of being wrong - it’s only worse when i’m right

a man handed me a pamphlet his smilin’ face across the front
said “vote for me i’ll change your life turn out the darkness turn up the lights”
I said sorry i don't vote for politicians they’re jus’ cannibals on the hunt
he smiled and said “thank you for being a tax payer and’ thank you for being so blunt”
he was pissed off at my hatred of his cronnie-con-game-shit
or maybe he realized i understood the futility of it
so he turned his back with open arms, but he did it much too quick
then gave another sap his well-rehearsed bullshit-pitch
watchin’ this i thought it’d be nicer getting bit by a witch

on another a corner i met a nun holding an old broom
smoking an old viceroy she hungrily consumed
she looked more like an old man no offense to menopause
drinking down all the pain she ever knew or ever saw
so i bought her a balloon and an ice cream cone
told her “go fuck her dogma and to leave me alone”
she smiled and prayed intensely said “listen my pitiful son
no matter what you believe one day we’ll both be going home”
her delusions made me feel like I had eaten her bile
so I stood there looking at my feet for a very long while
then looked up at the sky heat burning my tired sight-filled eyes
she burped and took a long puff then intensely said
“may god bless you my son - could you spare a coupla fives?”
“no I can’t” I said, and she got into a huff
“well then how about some of yer stuff?”
“sorry i’m broke and busted by the same God that busted you”
she walked away waving and coughing and spitting up her choke
pulled out a flask and washed down the stale disgusting smoke
i was glad when that was over - felt like a bad joke

i saw cowboy playing a guitar with no strings on his lap
had an unlit cigar danglin’ wore an dirty white hat
looked at me and said “throw a tenner in my case, i’m poor”
i said “i would if you could play but you can’t so I’m keepin’ my quarter“
he smiled and said “what do you know about it i studied with the best of them“
“i doubt that’s true you’re strumming a guitar without any strings“
“I hear it just fine you just deafened by your hate“
“I wish that were true but it’s not and fella you got someplace to stay?“
his smile turned into a long, deep frown, and crying he said
“don't think you’re better than me, dude
go somewhere else to bleed a bum, user
and let me fake out a living here, loser
put a ten-spot in my guitar case and stop your cryin’
or go over there where they’re really lyin’ and dyin’ “

soooooo i walked over to the others who were really lyin’ and dyin’
some were having sex in the street others were just trying
shooting up suckin’ crack with their sisters and brothers
others having sex with anyone who’d pay them even their mothers
wiping the needled blood off their skirts or trousers
someone reading Shakespeare too loud and sounding backwards
in the distance i heard a gunshot then i heard a siren writhing
somehow i thought of cobwebs and spiders climbing
then i heard a woman scream and then she was crying
somehow i thought of a fat bat sucking blood from a chipmunk
“one gene away from chimps” i heard a fat pimp say
the bright light faded into a misty haze and I couldn’t even pray
lookin’ at this scene I wanted to save them but I couldn’t
so I just walked away but felt like I shouldn’t

i thought about cavemen and their early cavemen mornings
women without Sassoon holding’ babies on their laps
wondered how they felt walking their danger-ridden map
running from lions and reptiles in their bare and broken feet
i wondered if they ever smiled or if they mostly weeped
they lived too long ago for me to really comprehend
but in the trance of time we’re a bleep of pretense
no matter how big you are you’re just another speck
we’re breathing in a world run by the insatiably blind
seeking something they can never own or find
egos building skyscrapers trying to touch the sky
building flimsy bridges between their one life and dying
one life and dying

if you look deep enough you can’t find anyone to blame
in the end even all that’s different will feel the same
it just seems like it’s a long wait back to where it all began

somewhere in the darkness
under the ancient sun
somewhere in the darkness
under the ancient sun

Paintings of Portraits
© 2013 - by John Monteleone

when you smiled i could only wonder
what you saw beneath my masks
as you spoke about your shadows
that nothing you counted on ever lasts
i thought my arms were wide open
but they turned into shattered glass
if only i had known how the past lived in you
hidden beneath so much black and blue

we sing sing sing to new beginnings
pray pray pray for all that's gone wrong
until a better rainbow comes along

our paintings of portraits
framed and hung too carefully
inside their tiny window
was too much of nothing
and too little left of me
swimming in the darkness
seeking answers too quick
walls of agreement
embraced our clever tricks
there was nothing left to see
married to our destinies

we sing sing sing to new beginnings
pray pray pray for all that's gone wrong
until a better rainbow comes along

yet our spirits are the same
as the light in the stars
we live in our little boxes
telling each other who we are
empty stares and photographs
glances and pretense
walking dreamy lanes blindly
grow tired and spent

we sing sing sing to new beginnings
pray pray pray for all that's gone wrong
until a better rainbow comes along

all the sounds
all the light
all the dreams we knew
all the black and blue
all the portraits hung
all the empty stares
all the photographs
and all the old prayers

Unshaven
© by John Monteleone – 5-1-2006

i look at the closed door in my room on the avenue
something just happened here my soul feels sore and blue
i took a gamble on love again and it just left me all wet
i gotta get outta here - get some air
see if i can find myself somewhere

i walk outside in the sun
I’m standing still but i want to run
start walking trying to figure it all out
but there’s nothing i know
that i don’t want to forget

they say love can be blind
and nothing seems to last that is kind
you hope for the tenderness of love
but love’s like swimming holding a gun

there's no one to blame i don't even want to try
some call the truth salvation but today i’d rather lie
now it’s all just a misty light merging inside to inside
nothing feels wrong and nothing feels right
feels like kissing backwards
heart’s spinning out of control
like i dropped my soul right out the window
you tore me apart then pulled me down on you
told me you loved me but it was through
now my passion is alone and afraid to seek another home
and there's nothing I can do

maybe one day the sky will open up
and salvation will paint us with delight
and this walk will not feel so heavy
this life will not be a savage fight
but in this game we call finding heaven
we keep ending back in our hell

i’m alone again
i feel unshaven

Red, White and Blue
© by John Monteleone - 8-04-06

his family had fought in all the wars
when not building or cleaning someone else’s floors

he crawled through the dirt as the sun beat down on him
like two people screaming at once they exchanged violent fire
you could hear the smack enter him

he rolled onto his back on foreign ground
his blood pouring out without even a sound
painting the ground where he had fallen - red
predator’s eyes smiled at his pain - dragon’s in their head
he hated them as they hated him
those invisible voices from deep within
had met brother-to-brother in this bloody sin

he remembered his favorite song
as his screams turned to whispered moans
he could not speak anymore
his wife’s eyes appeared before his own
her gentle, loving hand touched his trembling chin
she kissed his lips he kissed her back
he could taste her breath like the very first time
heard his baby giggling daddy and saw his infant eyes
suddenly he questioned if this was “right”
but it was all clouded in white

back home his mother was folding the laundry
his father drove home from work
his brother rolled up the hosing
his recruiter signed another one up

bugles from the centuries past began to sing
medals arriving at loved-ones doors
the rhetoric well-rehearsed
the solutions that never worked
all rested with him in this blood-stained dirt

the ground red
his mind lost in white
his face blue

he stared up at the sun looking upon his one life
as the blanket of darkness appeared silently
and in an instant

(guitar strum – hand over strings
rhythm -- a heart beat, dying… stops. )

Where Angels Have Passed
© by John Monteleone, September 2014

her eyes scanned the landscape
where she played with tortoise shells
her eyes widened with each new smell
and the sun squinted her eyes
the moon appeared in the twilight
her days were games full of funny names
from mourn to night
that old wise voice singing low
under the long history of life
the lost tribe that once here thrived
now hidden under the pounding drums of war
where no one can hide from the loss of the light
and everyone pretends it’s gonna be all right
while bodies and love remain buried from sight

the lies of lost lives
in the land of lost tribes
hell made with nods and bribes
money blinding their eyes
wars of color
wars of oil
wars of class

on this wondrous spinning ball of glass
where angels have passed

she heard her mother’s call
behind the collapsed wall
saw a shell then puddles of red
melted wrapped around her dolly’s head
her mother entombed underneath this plight
where she called her for dinner last night

where she played hide and seek
pretended heaven lived under her feet
she was an glowing angle with tall white wings
her legs lay severed and she couldn’t even scream
a ghostly image hovered over her
she closed her eyes to dream
the lies of lost lives
in the land of lost tribes
hell made with nods and bribes
money blinding their eyes
wars of color
wars of oil
wars of class

on this wondrous spinning ball of glass
where angels have passed

Ol’ Tumbleweed
© by John Monteleone - 10 – 25 – 09 (rewritten 2-3-12)

Ol’ tumbleweed I call her ‘cause she walks like one
wears a little red apron as her customers make her run
got tears well-hidden from all the pain she’s won
stares like a deer caught in a headlight about to be struck down
in this cute little café in this quaint little town
feels like forever ‘til she can put the job down
limps slowly home along an old cracked street
hidden in the shadows too many hearts bleed

the light grows low
the street lamps glow
her eyes close slow

the alarm strikes six an’ she growls
outside she knows there are predators on the prowl
terror of eviction peels her out of bed
images of her youth still in her head
the light used to be brighter, when her rainbows were still on
but they ain’t no more she’d tell ya – she’s been hiding from the sun
she treads the ol’ cracked street back to the lonely-ass job
boss’s blinded by his profits like he’s workin’ for the mob
so her heart beatin’ slower ‘cause somethin’ been robbed
her lost life walked past us in the sun under the trees
hidden in the shadows too many hearts bleed

i write a song about it eating a muffin at her table
cars pass by, birds pick crumbs - it looks like a fable
i’m thinkin’ about old westerns an’ gun slingers livin’ free
seeking the american dream on a golden prairie
but even those ol’ myths have lost their melody
more like cob webs hangin’ from the statue of liberty
hidden in the shadows too many hearts bleed

‘cause ol’ tumbleweed just refilled my coffee
then limped away hoping no one’ll see
right here in the home of the brave
an’ the land of the free
hidden in the shadows too many hearts bleed

Closing Shop
© by John Monteleone – 7-29-06

the trains have stopped
and the moon's shining on her face
her make up's faded away
there’s sadness in her eyes
but she keeps smiling

he locks the door
one light's still on
street lamps glowing
through the window of this joint
and she’s so beautiful

if he could hold her close
if she could kiss him full mouthed
if he could be her lover
in the glowing amber translucence
his world could go away for a second

he thought that in a moment
in the silent nod of her hello
in the wiping of his counter
with the pain in his elbow
he fell in love with her

the dishes fall into the sink
back behind the metal doors
as his mop wipes the filth off the floors
a siren screams in the distance
we're all separated by this noise

the moon is full
as they leave the joint
she hails a cab; he walks
watches as bodies move over cement
under streetlights shadowing hope

there is no one anywhere
not even a breath in the air
he thinks about her hair
the night walks slowly to the sun
love has come and gone

the trains begin their run

Still
or “A Closed Book of Poetry”
© by John Monteleone 2000, 2010, and 2013

(ode to the 100 million American Indians slaughtered to steal this country by and for the 1%)

as i sit silently near the ol' whaling village
in the woods, by the ancient sea
in the distance i hear the Indian’s drum
like a heartbeat ticking through time in me
feels like windless leaves
buried bodies and old memories
life lived once as it lives in me
gone like a lost spring breeze
it’s so still… now…
like a closed book of poetry

i can hear the arrows and shots ring out
bodies falling hard into their graves
your bloodshed has not left this ground
your fatherless children still cry out
in ghettos and prisons and broken homes
in empty bottles of thunderbird
in fraudulent hearts and all the blame
on the once fertile Indian plains
and like the tears hidden in me
there’s nothing you can see
it’s so still… now…
like a closed book of poetry

this park was named after you
to lessen the guilt of our guns
to silence the bloodied screams
echoing in the moonlit sky
buried deep under this soil
lives the result of our dreams
hidden in our sleepless memories
and bloody history
and all it could possibly mean
now forgotten and unseen
it’s so still… now…
like a closed book of poetry
hidden so no one can see

what you did to me
what you to my family
what you did to history

Mengele’s Mercede
Or Welcome to the Hamptons 2020
© by John Monteleone – 2009

Mengele’s driving his Mercedes to Nero's beachfront house
Caligula's now a woman wearing a million-dollar blouse
Pope John turned up a don in the mafia
and Jesus just got blown up by a kid-bomber in Israel

Einstein's makes billions creating addictive drugs
Darwin’s making bombs that’ll blow the moon clear to mars
Columbus is a recluse with nothing to say
and the Supreme Court gave the Corporations -- the USA

Lincoln's a black man whose mother was white
Washington's become a Texan jus' lookin' for a fight
Franklin's dumping carcinogens in our drinking water
Kennedy got his head blown off now it’s on our quarter

Everything seems backwards
Or upside down
In every city everywhere
Even this little shanty town

Michelangelo’s working in a bookstore downtown
Da Vinci's a plumber diggin' a hole in the ground
Mozart jackhammers roads in an overcrowded city
Sell-outs make millions 'cause they’re handsome or pretty

Shakespeare's writing copy for the city's cheap press
Hemmingway's writing directions for MapQuest
Friedan works in a bakery downtown
Moliere makes his living as a party clown

God must be on vacation or was beaten by Lucifer
Noah dove off his arch and became a butcher
David's still fighting Goliath on TV Primetime
and Mother Theresa's standing on the unemployment line

Everything seems backwards
Or upside down
In every city everywhere
Even this little shanty town

No One Knows
By John Monteleone Feb. 1, 2017

i get up and feel the cold
everything looks so old
i search somewhere for the sun
but everyone's on the run
seeking some new hope
but no one knows

separations are everywhere
somewhere we can’t see
hiding inside the masks - so expertly
beggn’ for love that never arrives
seekn’ respect but bein’ patronized
throwing stones at their mirrors
tryin’ to kill their terrors
seeking some kind of dignity
while the struggle makes us grope
hearts are left hangin’ upside down
from different types of rope
but no one knows

lives are fallin’ apart
so many broken hearts
endings that can’t restart
so many end up alone
but no one knows

you can’t smile your way out of this
we’re all kissing the abyss
between the spaces we get lost
it’s where the chaos grows
the truth gets left untold
we reach for the sun
in the dark an’ lonely cold
but no one knows

lives are fallin’ apart
so many broken hearts
endings that can’t restart
so many end up alone
but no one knows

there is a rage down down deep
buried pain and suffering that weeps
blind are they whose evil company they keep
who salute a flag of violence that will not sleep
cowards in the wind are following their mess
shattered identities kissing long ugly hatreds
hailing to dead killers in cults of violence

the fire down below rises behind their frightened eyes
nothing can hide that ancient monster’s cry
infants who grew into dangerously ignorant minds
that revere the work of demented madmen long long dead
madmen who enjoyed their slaughters and the smell of rotting flesh
madmen relished black burnt stench engulfed in misty stinking smoke
these little boy tyrants who laughed at the innocent as they choked
in gas chambers behind their tall white painted fence
where bones walked desperately for an ounce of food and life and hope
and coward bureaucrats hung our history from their bloody madman’s rope

the power to give
the power to lift
the power to embrace
the power to change

cults of self-righteous hatred court an evil romance
fists punch the wind with screaming twisted heads
lost children stand together from the slums of ignorance
saluting a past they cannot possibly know or reflect
born in a culture calling itself great while it breeds neglect

now they’re armed with guns and marching with false self-righteous pride
new leaders urge another war with a pack of sickening lies
threatening the powerless and the kind who have no place to hide
cherished delusions dance with new danger as it looms
like crippled dancers trying to pirouette in a crowded darkened room

the power to give
the power to lift
the power to embrace
the power to change

you put a white hood over your head
to hide your terrified face
but you're really hiding your heart
'cause you know it's a disgrace