My Inaugration Prayer

People who believe that they are descendants of Abraham dominate this world; if we agree on that, why can't we agree on more?

In this mixed up world, it's not that we just disagree but there is out right anger even within each other's faith. My hope is that with this new President we start finding peace on our same table, and then we start getting up and talking to people at the other tables. We'll stop acting like middleschoolers; and we'll start acting like adults, and admiring the gifts that God has blessed us with rather that the differences we share.

Somewhere Yahweh will be happy with his children, and stop his weeping. Deserts will be fertile with love, and streets will be filled with common sense.

We will treasure each other gay and anti-gay as an expression of our brutal & realistic human nature. Any misguided anger will be crushed by a hug from a nine year old, or the whisper from a ninety year old.

I dream we will be stronger. Yes, I believe there is hope; and I pray God gives Obama the strength to be pragmatic to offer this poor sinner an opportunity to talk at this precious time.

God bless us, and make us stronger lovers.

Peace. Dave

A rare quote....

"If I don't have red, I use blue"... Pablo Picasso... found in an Anne Lamotte "Grace" book.

Footsteps Everyday

...by Dave Schipper © RoseRiversongs 2005

Me and Dad never talked to much
He pounded nails for a paltry pay
We were just Catholic White Trash
Goin to church but not actin’ that way

Now I’m walkin’ with the ghost of my old man
I live his purgatory today
Refresh his soul from his bigotry
I am walkin’ in his footsteps everyday.
I am walkin’ in his footsteps everyday.

Dad had an eye on pretty girls,
He had sparkle eyes when he flirted
Now over 40 and I do the same
But like Dad, we never cheated

Your craft made wood come to life
Red River Valley was a hymn to you
Now I make the guitar wood sing
And I hasten to bid you adieu

Flannel

… by Dave Schipper © 2005 Rose Riversongs

Trees are molting colors to the ground
Box elders are clinging to the door
Just wonder what going on in town
P.S. you’ll find me on the farm.

Lately the days are rushin by
Kid stuff and meetings abound
Sometimes you have to stop and sigh
Baby, don’t you wonder why?

There’s a patchwork of life
Live it til you die
Grab on the hem, and don’t give at all
In the patchwork of life
Sometimes you’re the stripes
But in the end we’re all flannel

Orange and blue fills the night skies
Children shriek and head to home
What nightly terror filled their eyes
Their chatter breaks the previous calm.

Calm is restored about ten
A glass of wine and music too
Too bad we can’t capture the wind
I’d blow it over to you.

There’s a patchwork of life
Live it til you die
Grab on the hem, and don’t give at all
In the patchwork of life
Sometimes you’re the stripes
But in the end we’re all flannel

This Page is My Page

(parody by Dave Schipper of This Land is Your Land
© 2008 Rose Riversongs

Chorus:
This page is my page, visit me on MySpace
Read my corny blogs, and new pics blander
View my deadwood friends, and my top band pictures
MySpace was made for you and me.

As I was linking a top new friends list
I saw an email coming from a bimbo
I started wondering to add the captcha
MySpace was made for you and me

Chorus

I’ve seached and added and I’ve followed the friend list
To the amazing artists with greatest talents.
And all around me their music singing
MySpace was made for you and me

Chorus

As I was jumpin’ - I saw site there
That site was set for only private viewing
But in another site – it didn’t have that
That site was made for you and me

Nothing

© by dave schipper 2007

Nothing
filled the air quickly.
removing the annoying
chirp of the birds
and that incessant
whoosh of cars

my eyes closed
and in the darkness
I heard a rhapsody
of distant flutes
and gentle waves
lapping on the shores.

Bread

__

Bereft of
Rain;
Each
Anticipates
Drips

From above.
Of hope
Raining down.

The
Hand in
Earnst, from the

World
Of
Reconciliation; the
Land
Demands HELP!

The Veil

By Dave Schipper © 2007 Rose Riversongs

As the veil lifted, he wondered who would be there.
Would it be the pensive eyes,
the pursed lips
the mysterious look that he had stuck in his head?

The world is obsessed to find their slot in life.
But all he can think of is her
A gentle soul
The one that called out, and words were exchanged.

Words, yes words lined with the veil forgiveness
A natural bond to form
Or a viral
Infection to eat at the very core of life and spirit.

The face revealed is as captivating as he thought
Eyes that can melt bones
Lips with no words
A soft embrace in the silence and the heaven’s rejoiced.

Blonde Attitude - a woman's perspective

Blonde Attitude by Dave Schipper ©2006 RoseRiver Songs

Call it a week, call it a day
Call it what you like I just want to get paid (or laid)
Tired of my job, Tired of my boss
Time to primp and sharpen the claws.


Chorus
I’m just music with a blonde attitude
You’ll love to hear those words that I use
You keep wishin for some time with me
This blonde attitude’s in perfect key


Here’s your brew, and here’ your life
God just forget that bitch, our exwife.
Grab hold my hand, grab on your heart
Grab on tight you know just where to start


Smile and laugh, smile and relax
Smile to the girls looking from the back
Move to the left, move to the right
Move anyway, just hold me tight.

Been There...

Shhh it's a Xmas gift... Lori never reads these blogs... you see an error let me know.

Angels Like You

by Dave Schipper © 2008 Rose Riversongs
Dedicated to Angela Easterling.

Your eyes are as true blue
as an Applachian sky

Just a walk through the foothills
in the sweet bye and bye

Raised on the good book
You wouldn’t hurt a fly

You sing like an angel
On the fourth of July

Lay me down in the River Jordan
Let it flow thru me like blood
Hear the hum of the accordion
Shout Woo Hoo outloud
Praise the Lord,
For Angels like you.

You were raised on June
And Johnny Cash songs

Now your at home on stage
And you bring them along

You’ve earned your wings
With your heavenly sound

With a smile you sing
And we sing right along.

Lay me down in the River Jordan
Let it flow thru me like blood
Hear the hum of the accordion
Shout Woo Hoo outloud
Praise the Lord,
For Angels like you.

California in my Mind

by Dave Schipper © 2007 Rose Riversongs


Allison offers her breast for my head
I am wrapped up into the song.
Breath whispers, and a heartbeat
A song as old as the ages long.

Chorus:
California in my mind
California in my wine
Too many faces come and go
But California I love you so.

The morning begins right and slow
The gurgling coffee pot starts
Three anxious cats prowl for food
It’s just Saturday the first part.

The guitar hums it’s sad tune
There’s no chance to travel far
You’re just a thought in the afternoon.
But I’m left with this little scar.

Allison brings room service with a smile
I am wrapped up into the song.
A piano plays backgound for the miles
A song as old as the ages long.

Unsaid

Unsaid by Dave Schipper © 2006 Rose Riversongs

Your face, your eyes, you fill up my night dreams

Your words, your lies, take me to brink of screams

One day, you’ll see, there was nothing wrong with me

Til then, just breathe, the air of stupidity


Messages replayed

Chapters reread

Memories downplayed

But words can’t go….. unsaid.


That night dance floor, you said we would never part

Warm kiss drinks poured, held each other thru the dark

Then came that night, I caught you in another’s arms

Nough said, that bites, flip the bird you have such charm


Messages replayed

Chapters reread

Memories downplayed

But words can’t go….. unsaid.


Back off, you witch, did I say you are a whore?

Your loss, I’ll catch, a good woman to adore

Drink up last call, the first night of your regret

You’ll wind up small, wonderin’ where your friends all went


Messages replayed

Chapters reread

Memories downplayed

But words can’t go….. unsaid.

Love is in the Air

A giggle here, a wink there, and the signs are out.
Then that skip across the room screams out loud.
Love is in the air.

Why do their heads tend to tilt when they talk?
Is it that their reasoning brains have gone soft?
Love is in the air.

Words flow seemingly to stretch the time.
Conversations on and on over red wine.
Love is in the air.

From a distance, we look and marvel
Keep going, you’ll never find another travel.
Worth,
Love in the air.

Dave Schipper © Rose Riversongs (2007)
Dedicated to Pam & Jim…..

Julia

Julia by Dave Schipper © 2006 Rose Riversongs.

The tear in the blue jeans was not just a fashion statement.
You been in them for three years as a testament.
The smile you keep showing is amazing through your sadness
It’s your heart so wide that can not be harnessed.

Julia you continue your journey on the back roads
You take the turns slow in your beat-up Saturn
Julia you continue to drive deep in my soul
You make me learn new ways for a heart to burn.

You threw out the yellowed newspaper in the back seat.
The timeless news was old hat to a love incomplete.
The fine print of tears and too much detail was shared
You pick up the pieces and start the damage repairs.

Julia you continue your journey on the back roads
You take the turns slow in your beat-up Saturn
Julia you continue to drive deep in my soul
You make me learn new ways for a heart to burn.

Toss me a line when you hit the mountains
Words can form a lifeline through the ink and pen
I’ll sit in the silence of the music and hear you just breathe
Solitude is my choice, and feelings are void of dearth

Julia you continue your journey on the back roads
You take the turns slow in your beat-up Saturn
Julia you continue to drive deep in my soul
You make me learn new ways for a heart to burn.

....Dedicated to an angel I know named Angie.

Flowers of the Forest

Today we pray for Flowers of the Forest

I heard them laughing, at the sun's setting
Young girls giggling before the dawn of day.
Now they are sobbing on green grass a growing
The flowers of the forest are laying to rest.

Once they had futures, and love a waiting.
Fathers and Mothers, a life to enjoy.
Then came the call, a service to them all.
A noble cause written, they stood tall and proud.

I heard them laughing, at the sun's setting
Young girls giggling before the dawn of day.
Now they are sobbing on green grass a growing
The flowers of the forest are laying to rest.

Midnight songs a playing, shots and beer flowing
Smiles all a plenty, til the night is done.
Xcept for the lady, the moon cold and lonely
Thoughts of her flower, are growing inside.

Justice for the lowly, help for the helpless.
Brothers and sisters, a hand to them all.
Now there is silence, though debate rages loudly
These flowers of the forest, victims to the gall.

I heard them laughing, at the sun's setting
Young girls giggling before the dawn of day.
Now they are sobbing on green grass a growing
The flowers of the forest are laying to rest.

Dave Schipper ©2008 Rose Riversongs


This traditional song was rephrased and rethought back in August because I had rediscovered my love for the song that I originally heard by Joe Hickerson. Well, if you roll back you'll find this is the second time I posted it, but what a wonderful surprise did I get in my email tonight. Nichola Marie O'Donnell surprised me with her voice on my mix. Well of course it wasn't totally a surprise, but after I emailed her the files, I let it go and didn't ever expect it. She is perfect for the song... her voice has the right depth and she sings it like she's heard it before.... or someone in her Irish heritage has... though since it's a Scottish tune... hmmm. ;-)


Ok ... here's my wish ... you go listen to Nichola at FolkAlley.com/openmic where I posted it... and you download it, you join FolkAlley (which is free) and tell them to get Nichola over to their festival.

Dave

Phonograph Blues

PHONOGRAPH BLUES
by Brad Beneke / Dave Schipper


Cigarette ash bridges the gap
From this nicotine stained soul
From the lip to the thought of this…
With a gin and tonic tabled halo

Angels singing somewhere south of heaven
A cancer stick a guitar lick
Hides the lies behind my personal heroin
In time to remind you of where you’ve been

A somber tune, in the key of blue
A phonograph recollection’s score
A verse covered in years of abuse
Like similar hands covered in scars

Angels singing somewhere south of heaven
A cancer stick a guitar lick
Hides the lies behind my personal heroin
In time to remind you of where you’ve been

The Washburn’s a little out of tune
Transcending sin and salvation
Just a gypsy singing right along
A communion of damnation

You never quite see what you mean
Secret thoughts once thought forgot
A man abandoned lost the dream
And the song ends without applause

But you never knew… what you meant
It was over the moment you left
Though the song still plays outloud
Haunt me from beyond your grave

Angels singing somewhere south of heaven
A cancer stick a guitar lick
Hides the lies behind my personal heroin
In time to remind you of where you’ve been
In time to remind you of where you been

A checklist for solace

A checklist for solace in the morning
Rich dark coffee, a warm robe
No priorities, and no whining.

With just traffic for a soundtrack
Minutes click by without words
Gracious time to stop and look back.

Back to life’s journey path
Twists, turns, hills, and valleys.
Moving thru clouds of wrath.

Why can’t this moment pause?
And then live in the pleasure
Do nothing for just because.

D. Schipper © 2007

Opposite Destiny

Opposite Destiny

The story of Romeo and Juliet just ain’t true.
Lies perpetuated to give false hope to a few.
Opposites may be attracted but they aren’t destined.
In fact they are lucky to even get mentioned.

I walk these streets daily and see the races unite
The Goths aren’t the only who choose to isolate
The voice of the crowd mumbles into noisy chaos.
The thoughts of the few independent are crushed.

I go along walking to find a pocket of a chosen few.
Those young gifted talents still play in silence too.
Is this nature’s destiny, a dumbing of the culture?
Are we just dead meat on the block of the butcher?

SHOUT, SCREAM at the top of your lungs you fool.
But you won’t, because you have been schooled.
Act the part of a door knob and be turned again.
You’re where you are, and where you’re destined.

Lyrics by Dave Schipper © 2007 Rose Riversongs
Music by Kim Davidson © 2007
Visit Kim at myspace.com/kimdavidson

Go listen and download the song at: FolkAlley.com/OpenMic

Busking

The story started that day in the park 

She had a guitar in hand. 

It was her first time busking 

Who she was, he was clearly in the dark. 

Strange to hear Dylan from one so young 

He won’t think twice it’s alright 

But that long red hair, reminded him 

Yes her name was on the tip of his tongue. 

He’s stood before artists in the past 

But this time he twitched 

His skin didn’t fit right 

Normally a just buck before he passed. 

This time he wanted to leave his soul 

He wanted to apologize 

He wished she was her 

And he could tell that he lost control. 

Hidden high schools wounds reopened

A twenty in a hat closed it 

A surprised musician looked up 

Having no ideas what just happened. 

Hey thanks, my name is Lauren she yelled 

He kept walking head down 

Suddenly screeching brakes 

But his life kept him self-propelled. 

Well she wish she knew his name, 

This busking is brisk 

And who knows who 

Smiling, she winked and played “Shame” 

 Dave Schipper (c) 2008 Rose Riversongs myspace.com/laurenzettler  Updated in 2022 http://www.laurenzettler.com/

Again?

Abandoned in the
Backyard
Alone
In the
Wind.

Once I was your toy
Countless
Hours of
Endless
Joy.

Oh how you would cry
And cry
When our
Time would
End.

Now I sit, no regrets.
Backyard
Has promise
In the
Wind

Again?

Dave Zeman © 2008

God loves the little people

God loves little people by Dave Schipper © 2007 Rose Riversongs

I’ve got lots of friends in circles, though I’m standin in a line
Hell I even knew Studs Terkel, when I didn’t have a dime.
Kind of feel a little purple, when you see the rich ones shine.
When I’m with you, I’m just Merkel, and remembered for all time.

Just a little brash ‘n clutzy, I just tried to make you mine.
I was wired, you were putzy; shook my head most of the time.
It was at that very second, when I rounded the first base.
Your eyes just seemed to beckon, I was tagged out at home plate.

God loves the little people
He treats them good and kind
He watches from his steeple
So he can laugh inside
God loves the little lovers
He feeds them all the lines
He hopes they will discover
A love that last all of time.

I charged my cell phone just for you, but you didn’t return my call
I texted so much my thumb is blue, boy I really dropped the ball
You were my only that is true, with a word you’d know I’d crawl
I’d even buy you more new shoes, cuz without you I bawl and bawl.

12:48

12:48 and something’s missing.
Sleep can wait until she arrives,
The gentle muse of the evening
She’ll whisper to me all lies

Sounding like sweet sweet truth.
She’ll wrap me in warm words
Rocking me to sleep in her arms.
I breathe to live, but I write to die

Then I reincarnate to a new world.
“Quiet, close your eyes” she says.
And I do and the darkness takes hold.
I do and the passion unfolds.

By Dave Schipper ©2007 Rose Riversongs

Can I?

Can I keep this up?
Could it be with mirrors?
Or do I just write small?

You all will have to come back.
Or you’ll miss something.
Top of the day to you.

Dave

She's yours

Yes

She’s yours
All yours
Just yours
To adore

She picks you up when you fall.
Worries sick when you don’t call
Brims inside when you stand tall
She’s a saint

She stands in line to buy your toy
Shows pictures of her pride & joy
Ignores you when you try to annoy.
She’s a pearl

And she’s

Yours
All yours
Just yours
To adore.

She brings you food when you’re down
Churns out smiles when you frown.
Twinkles bright in her eyes of brown
She’s a charm.

She hugs the stuffings out of you
Drives you home when you had a few
Keeps each day all fresh and new
She’s a joy

And she’s

Yours
All yours
Just yours
To adore.

© 2008 Dave Schipper with a little help from Brett Dennan’s “She’s Mine”

Grace

Grace by Dave Schipper © 2005 Rose Riversongs


She was a zesty mix of latin princess and call girl
A spicy whiplash with long flowing black hair
Courted by all the boys within a hundred miles
She ropes them all and then frees them with a smile.

She is Grace, She is Grace, She is Grace, She is Grace


Her daddy was assumed killed in a gang fight
The street adopted her and raised her right.
Now the all grown up girl stands tall
A ghetto flower in a world of asphalt


She is Grace, She is Grace, She is Grace, She is Grace



The hands of Grace filled with mercy
A gentle place, nothing fancy
To be with her is a blessing
Come unsure, leave rejoicing


She has a crucifix right next to the tv
She’s known to grab your hand and weep
On the hallway wall is a shrine to her father
Pictures of wasted man but no mother


Days she spends her time at the soup kitchen
Nights she brightens up the street with passion
She has the cred of the silent and the deadly
She gives more than a hand out, she gives mercy


She is Grace, She is Grace, She is Grace, She is Grace

Thanksgiving bah hum bug ;-)

Ok thanksgiving is an interesting word.
Is it a noun, adjective or even a verb?
A day to “Give Thanks” they say.
But they end up just words in the spillway.

Is this my new form of Holiday bahumbug?
No, climb out of this cultural hole we dug
And create a passion to really appreciate.
Just toss out the turkey and crumb cakes.

I would ask you to join a new force.
Where your passion is the real source.
Give thanks to the gifts you have daily
Actually try to live life joyful and smiley.

I for one is the luckiest old fart that I know
Sure life is cluttered with daily sorrow
But I look and find for the joy everywhere
Then I smile to myself, so please… don’t stare.

I’m just giving thanks.

Dave Schipper © 2008 Rose Riversongs.

Tinderbox Passion

Delicate balance,

She tried to make it

But this

Tinderbox passion

Kept her near the sparks.

Relations in stress,

Where was the patience?

But then

Tinderbox passion

Could not be kept locked.

Emotions ignite

And spread in fashion

But then

Tinderbox passion

Brings back the hard knocks.

Ash and souls smolder.

Until they are ice cold.

But this

Tinderbox passion

Is kept near the sparks.

And will ignite again.

Dave Zeman (c) 2007 Rose Riversongs

Eight is Midnight

Eight Is Midnight by Kolek/Schipper © Roseriversongs 2005


Tim tells his sad tale to some bad scotch

Margaretville, is all Dave’s got

Paula has a 5 O’clock blonde attitude

So crank up the sound and get in the mood

Chorus
Follow the Mississippi moon shadow
Down Little Creek Road for dancing tonight
There’s a keg of the king so get down low
We’ll push back the clock, so eight is midnight


Adeline is fine for sweet cherry wine

But Sue’s on the edge cause it’s quittin time

We’ll drink Lynnie’s Lakewood Blues and be

Back to the keg king and good company


Chorus

Our Ramblin Boy stops by with a friend

With guitar in hand and songs he penned.

So turn down the sound, and grab a chair

He’ll paint you a dream and take you there

Go Listen to it at MySpace.com/RoseRiver

My Readers

My readers range,

A love Ninja to an angry man

Some live in

Stages of love decay and rebirth.

They are

Brothers, 

Sisters, 

Mothers 

and Fathers.

From families great and small.

Some touch new born flesh

And others touch senility.

I write for myself

But with them in mind.

My readers sing

To themselves or full concerts.

Some live out

Stages of the life I dream.

They are

Writers

Travelers

Artists

And performers 

From distances east to west.

Some touch with a lyric

And others with their voice.

I write mostly alone

But with them inside.

My readers love

Or they wouldn't be here.

Some I know

Details that I can't share.

They are

Young & Old

Gay & Straight

With God

And some without.

From the list, top to bottom

Some will stay long

And others are already gone.

I write from the gut

But with love in each line.

By Dave Schipper © 2007 Rose Riversongs

I have been blessed with over 100 subscribers on my MySpace blog, many silent, but the hang on and someone must be reading the posts.  This is one I wrote for them a while back; what a truly delightful mix of humanity.

Diamond on Her Shoes

Diamonds on her Shoes by Dave Schipper Rose Riversongs © 2005

She’s got diamonds on her shoes, she’s paid her dues

She’s slick as a cat, and that’s a fact.

Street worn, some bed sheets torn

Call her late, it’s worth the wait

Chorus

The night is filled with souls like her

The devil has his cards laid out

It’s deuces wild, with Jacks better

Tonight the stakes might just be lights out

It’s just a sales trip, the Jack lets slip

Pocket full of cash, and his mind of ash

A night full of tricks, next day full of shit

He called her late, and it spelled his fate.

Back on the street, she does compete

She’s slick as a cat, and known for that

More diamonds on her shoes, she doesn’t lose

Call her late, and test your fate.

The West Shore

West Shore by Dave Schipper © 2006 Rose Riversongs

The west shore is busy tonight can’t you see

Packed with bodies alive with party

Laughter and sounds of music fill the air

Lost in drunkenness without a care

Ride a lie, Ride a lie Ride a lie 

Ride a lie, Ride a lie Ride a lie

She came from town not knowin’ a thing

Got caught up in love broke her wing

But tonight her arms sail high into the wind

And no second thought of original sin

Ride a lie, Ride a lie Ride a lie 

Ride a lie, Ride a lie Ride a lie

Will the memory fit?

The picture pages fine

Will you just omit?

When you lost your mind

The west shore is busy with lovers tonight

Moving in sand, caught by moonlight

Cries and laughs are music in the air

Lost in drunkenness tomorrow to care

Ride a lie, Ride a lie Ride a lie 

Ride a lie, Ride a lie Ride a lie

Acronyms

Acronyms

Run

Our lives.

Grate 

And

Numb

The

Senses,

Til we

Unhappily

Flip &

Flop.

Denim & Lace

Denim and Lace

Seems like everythings broke, including me
Ex-wife called for her alimony.
The price of gas just hit record highs
All you can do is stand a sigh

He can’t complain about his day ahead,
his mind is wanderin off to me instead.
Come Friday it’ll be just him and me
Good food, some beer and little TV.


Chorus
Escape from the rat race,
Take a left on Chase street,
They're serving denim and lace,
At Linda's place.
They're serving denim and lace,
At Linda's place.

Linda works at the diner all day
Servin’ those with too much to say
Then it’s hurry home and get the kids fed
do the wash, and off to bed.

I don’t complain ‘bout the routine stuff
There’s more of life to really love
My sites are set to dad’s weekend
and a little time with him to spend.

Chorus

Linda and I someday will tie the knot,
When the kids see just who I am not.
We’ve got a plan to keep this love alive
Pretty nice feeling when your 45.

Love after forty is not a bad thing
Don’t let them tell you that we can’t sing
Timing is something that you can’t control
But when you find the time just grab hold.



Authors note... just a little duet penned on the way to work...live recording with Rose River is at myspace.com/roseriver

Gypsy Soul

Gypsy Soul by Dave Schipper © 2007 Rose Riversongs


My gypsy soul cries out to grab hold
Of the nearest long haired dancing angel
The sweet violin and the melody unfolds
My hand on her back; and we tango.

The moonlight through the window knows
The passion fire in our hearts tonight.
Your eyes shine brighter than a candle glow.
The blue light gaze, keeps me locked into site.

Oh step in time to my gypsy soul
Oh come to me in my gypsy need
Oh drink with me my gypsy wine
Oh say you are my gypsy love.

Your lips smile as we kiss the first time
Oh yes friends can’t help but laugh out loud
Our foreheads knock, our arms do entwine
Passion isn’t smooth when love is vowed.

The last wine is poured gingerly as we lie
The moonlight reflecting your flesh is lush
All the giggles have turned to purrs and sighs
Our eyes close to the sound of the gypsy hush.


Author Notes: This piece was written one night that I was at first blocked for a topic. I grabbed one of the many books that Lori has and just paged through it. I think it was an Ann Rice book... but somewhere in it there was a chapter about Gypsy love.. thus the tie in to my Bohemian background and the song. It will be the feature title track of the cd that I planning on finishing someday and self-publishing through CDBaby.com. If you work thru them, they put your music on iTunes... Yeah BABY... plus as of the day I posted this blog it is on my myspace site to listen to : myspace.com/davezeman

Face in the Crowd

A face in the crowd, no words were exchanged
The band was too loud, oh their stories did range.
But joy formed a bond, from young to old aged.
Raise a glass to the band
And new faces in the crowd.

You were an Irish princess
With a party crown and sun dress
You took me to Erin’s green shore
An old ballad I do adore.
I turned to talk to someone new
And you vanished from view.

A face in the crowd, no words were exchanged
The band was too loud, oh their stories did range.
But joy formed a bond, from young to old aged.
Raise a glass to the band
And new faces in the crowd.

You danced and played fiddle hard
Maybe you just knew your part
With a smile and style almost scripted
Eye candy for a band with spirit
When the set was over, you were too
Another angel vanished from view.

A face in the crowd, no words were exchanged
The band was too loud, oh their stories did range.
But joy formed a bond, from young to old aged.
Raise a glass to the band
And new faces in the crowd.


Face in the Crowd by Dave Schipper © 2008 Rose Riversongs dedicated to Jessie Burns with Gaelic Storm.

Hey Mr. Tangerine Man

Hey Mr. Tangerine Man (a parody by Dave Schipper © 2006 Rose Riversongs


Chorus:
Hey! Mr. Tangerine Man, place some hair on me,
I'm not sleepy, won’t you walk across my bladder.
Hey! Mr. Tangerine Man, place some hair on me,
In the early mornin’ please yowl a little louder

Though I know your evenin's venture
has returned mouse in mouth
Dropped neatly on the couch,
Left me blindly here to stand at the brink of gagging.
Your weariness amazes me,
You’re sleeping in a heep,
Baked in the sun shine heat
And your little head too dead for dreaming.


Now take this catnip for your
magic swirlin' trip,
Your senses will be slipped, your paws won't feel to grip,
Your tail will attack, daring you to be pouncing
You’re ready to go outside,
Your ready to come in
To go out, to come in, to go out and come in
And then back out again.

Chorus.

Though I see you runnin', spinnin', jumpin'
madly across the room,
It’s not away from anyone, it's just escapin' on the run
But it’s from the invisible foes your facin'.
Yes to dance beneath the human
is not against your pride
When there Kitty treats involved, or chunks of cheese not small
You think, there’s finally a use for him after all.

Chorus.

Jalapeno's at lunch

Rich smooth heat paints the inside of my mouth
Yes, pleasurable pain as the world heads south.
God hasn’t changed his love for us mortal beings.
Life isn’t always highs, so enjoy the in betweens.
A single smile over lunch could change a day
“It’s not rocket science”, I’ve been known to say.
So enjoy the sheer goodness of a jalapeno.
Say Hi to someone you don’t even know.
Just don’t lick the plate, burp or drool.
Your mom didn’t raise you to be a fool.

© 2008 Dave Zeman

Loose Papers and Sweaters

Loose papers unlike life
Can be clipped and put aside.
Beat up sweats worn with pride
Store up love deep inside.

Moments come up each day
Where we reach out to say
God I love them today
Good friends so far away.

Are people like paper?
Clipped in bunches put in order.
Or are they God’s sweater?
A touch worn but loved sweeter.

I wrap myself today
Warm inside with God’s way.
Friends I love them today
Near and so far away.


© Dave Schipper 2008 Rose Riversongs

I am

I am writing gibberish.
My only thoughts are nonsense.
I take my age, add two years and whatever.

I am solving world issues.
My way is the right and only stance.
I’m sure to read this in an email somewhere.

I am living a fantasy world.
My days go by making absolutely no sense.
I’m proud that every day I put on clean underwear.

I am giving reasons to lock me up.
My actions though give me a second chance.
I write and write until the day I find you there.

By Dave Schipper... from somewhere back in 2007


Hey all you people finding me out in the blogspot, I've been up to writing and posting words for a few years... the full archive is over at MySpace.com/davezeman I'll dabble keeping this one up... who knows it might take a world of it's own, and just like at over at MySpace... Rose was one of my first readers...but she never ever posts a comment.

Dave

Hues of Freedom

Hues by Dave Schipper © 2008 Rose Riversongs


I see the rich deep hues of tonal blends.
Not just black and white, more grayscale.
I work to select words that don’t offend.
‘Cause friends like alliances are fragile.

So when I see my supporters line up
I see parasitic lawyers and agendas.
The homeless with their empty cup.
Gays, gray hairs, and young all blended.

I’m no different than others who love
I embrace my wife, my child, and my friends.
I live in the country all dream of.
So it’s hard to live and to pretend.

We need to stop pandering to ourselves.
To do the right thing, you’re unelectable.
Pick the words from the book on the shelf.
Smile, shake hands with the agreeable.

Life will go on if I’m not the victor
It has and it will; a great guarantee.
The hues of freedoms in tone richer
Because this land is made for you and me.