Thursday, November 27, 2008


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

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

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.

Monday, November 24, 2008

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

Saturday, November 22, 2008

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

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


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

Friday, November 21, 2008

My Readers

My readers range,
A love Ninja to an angry man
Some live in
Stages of love decay and rebirth.
They are
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
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.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

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

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.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

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

Tuesday, November 18, 2008


Our lives.

Til we
Flip &

Sunday, November 16, 2008

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.

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.


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 recording with Rose River is at

Saturday, November 15, 2008

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 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 :

Friday, November 14, 2008

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.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Hey Mr. Tangerine Man

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

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.


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.


Wednesday, November 12, 2008

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

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

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

Monday, November 10, 2008

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 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.


Sunday, November 9, 2008

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.