Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Across the River

Across the river to the house of ill repute
Marked the ghostly traveled evil trade route.
They were legends they were men
Their blood would flow from that gambling den.

When the midnight fell across Pace isle
Curses melted this frail woman child.
Laughter and smoke filled the air so vile
Rot in hell you damn pedophile.

Across the river came boat sleek and dark
Filled with men from the local city Clark.
Dressed in black and dressed to kill
In just moments, their wishes were filled.

As the door opened and they walked in
The was no shattering this crowd’s din
Their way was clear to the backdoor
And seconds to settling the score.

Across the river the shots cried out
The law handed to this pathetic lout
The dark angels showed no mercy around
The blood flowed on this evil ground.

When the midnight passed across Pace isle
Solemn embraced this frail woman child
Silence and smoke fill the air so vile.
Rot in hell those damn pedophiles.

Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Playlist

Playlist © Dave Schipper 2005 Rose Riversongs

The same old songs are on my play list
Each song is tied to a time and place
And too many paint a picture of your face.
The one I lost along the way

Longing for a passionate kiss
Jimi’s Angel Flying in the skies
With brown eyes that Van describes.
Your my Paradise

From the start we were born to run
Unabashed on carefree highways
Now I think you were still the one
Or am I just crazy. Chorus

Can’t forget our moondance
Washed in the midnight hour
You didn’t save the last dance
And sweet dream did sour

Now I’m down by the river
Alone and so blue
Love could be around the corner
But I sing this song for you. Chorus

Time to color my world anew
Start listening to new music
Get drunk, find someone to screw
And start the dance they pick Chorus

Friday, November 20, 2009

Josie Mae

Chorus:
Oh Josie, Josie Mae,
Cute as pie, they all say
When you dance and look their way
Oh Josie, Josie Mae,

Oh Josie, sway & swing
Your baby’s due late next spring
When you smile at your gold ring
Oh Josie flap your angel wings

Oh Josie, take your man downtown
You won’t tease your lovin’ clown
When you stand in your weddin’ gown
Oh Josie you should wear a crown.

Oh Josie, put a flower in her hair
You’ll take her to the county fair
When you say your mama’s prayer
Oh Josie she gets tender care.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

Saturday, November 7, 2009

Counting Words...

You’ve got me counting words,
Analyzing lines and extrapolating whys.
Baby you know I think too much
But you give me data for thought.
In the silence I ponder each word
Each phrase has many meanings.
Oh sure I could be dancing
Creating new definitions and context.
Yet at the end of my analysis
Is a positive view of you; and I smile.

by Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

Thursday, October 29, 2009

That Bitch

I looked down and saw my shoes.
Surely shows I’ve paid my dues.
I thought of you in room downstairs
Naked for all the boy to stare
When life takes form to fit
Wake me up with this bitch.

Colors turn and fade to gray,
Life unravels so they say
Just when I find foothold strong
Some one answers in a song.

So I grabbed my keys and went along
She started shouting I was wrong
I looked down and saw my shoes
They were covered with last night’s news
When life takes form to fit
Send me home from this young bitch.

Last few years, I’ve turned around
Hunkered down in this old town
I know some old ones who care
They don’t look down or stare
When life gives you a chance to fit
They must have sent home that bitch.

© 2009 Dave Zeman Rose Riversongs

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Duckin' stones, a Protest song

I live my life duckin’ so many stones.
My hands are free, but I feel alone.
Both sides take aim at the weary bill.
Both exclaim there is a poison pill.
I suppose I should stop and listen.
Decipher which is God’s position.
I do expect that answer is neither
Jesus wouldn’t even need a breather.
He’d remind us of the question that stands,
When he needed help, “Did you lend a hand?”

I walk thru life duckin’ so many stones.
My way is clear and I don’t go alone.
I walk with the sons of Abraham,
Yes, Christian, Jew and Muslim
Side by side, homeless, poor and gay
Ducking the stones and words they say
Lest we forget the word cast in stone
Don’t idolize words from a radio throne
But let the words of Jesus help
Go out loving one another as yourself.

Go out and shout
Drop the stones, drop the stones.
But do not doubt, you’ll be
Duckin’ stones, duckin’ stones.

© 2009 Dave Schipper Rose Riversongs

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Talkin' Differences in Sexes

Ok folks, it’s plain to see, that I’m talkin’ differences ‘tween you and me.
Or should I say them and us, you know vagina versus the old penis.
I’ve been around a time or two, enough to see a closet full of shoes
But when I went to write ‘em down, I was worried to be shipped out of town.
You know Rush Limbaugh style, angry, confused, blabbering all the while.

Now this shouldn’t be an editorial bit, so I used THE google and McCained it.
You know in this digital age, you just search and copy some body else’s page.
So armed with a laptop and coffee, I got my windows to look at me.
Point and click info by the ton, ohhhh better put the adult filters on.
Just incase you try this at home, don’t try that with thing with foam.

Back to work and just like I thought, lists and lists of haves and have nots.
Some pretty scientific stuff, when I thought camo versus pink fluff.
There’s left brain / right brain, and why women explain and explain
There’s x y, mars and venus, and oh yeah then right back to the penis
So who here before the age nine, played you show me your I’ll show you mine?

Mumble… after age nine… hmmm look me up sometime….

Hair style is difference I relate, hell mine been the same since 8.
Yes all that time to get ready, and you just better notice Freddy.
She’s worked hard at getting it just right, even if it’s a bun pulled tight.
Darlin you look good tonight, no, no really I meant outta sight.
Sure the game is on, but I looked at you really, really, really.. hey he’s gone.

So if I make it through this song, and married to my favorite one.
It just means that difference attract, and then find a way to react.
Most women are saints you know, and successful guys will surely show
Their pride and joy that brings them dinner, after they said she looks thinner
Yes indeed, I meant every word, thanks for the dinner hun.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs
Many thanks to Woody Guthrie and Charlie Maguire for inspiration.

Ode to Josie

Ring around the rosie
A bouquet of posies
For a girl named Josie.

Ah she smiles as she’s heard
These lines til they’re absurd
Maybe she relishes each word.

Yes indeed we overlook
Each “by hook and by crook”
As simply gobbly gook

But they are threaded in
Yes much to our chagrin
As just part of our skin.

So with a wink and smirk
Josie kept right to work
Ignoring this old jerk.

‘til next time that is… HA.

© Dave Schipper 2009 Rose Riversongs.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Meander..


I meander down these streets
Soaking up the history
This little river town is home
It’s beauty is before me.

There were no building rules then
Do whatever that was up your hat.
Funny, just like God did with us
“Let’s try something like that!”

As I do with the people I meet
I peer deep in the house’s eyes
To find the brilliance or darkness
No facts here, but I editorialize.

The lawn unkempt and broken panes,
I could really restore her.
A tiny bungalow with cool back deck
I absolutely adore her.

A grand old two story brick,
Now this one intimidates me
A garden and fat cat in the window,
I wish there was room for me.

Life is too short to waste
But if meander you way thru
You’ll have a chance to catch life
From a character or two.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs…
Photo Credit

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Ellie Mae.












The first time I saw you, I thought it was a dream
Dancin all around me, just like a Cajun Queen.
You were in my prayers Lord, protect her everyday
What a little darlin, that little Ellie Mae

Ellie Mae, keep that smile upon your face.
Ellie Mae, dance around the room with grace, Ellie Mae
Your God’s gift from above, I give my hand in love, Ellie Mae

So now some years have passed, that smile’s still on your face.
Still a little angel, full of love and grace.
All my prayers were answered, your with a boy today.
A strong and lovin’ man, for little Ellie Mae.

Ellie Mae, keep that smile upon your face.
Ellie Mae, dance around the room with grace, Ellie Mae
He’s God’s gift from above, give him your hand in love, Ellie Mae.

The next time I see you, a smile still on your face.
Your Sis on the banjo, new Dad upon the bass.
Harmonies a flowin’ and what a joy to say.
Twin girls ‘round the feet of little Ellie Mae.

Ellie Mae, keep that smile upon your face.
Ellie Mae, dance around the room with grace, Ellie Mae
Their God’s gift from above, give them your hand in love, Ellie Mae.

By Dave Schipper © 2004 Rose Riversongs

Dedicated to the inspiration to the song, Ellie Grace. Photo Credit

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

This Warehouse Girl


This warehouse girl
In her denim blues and t-shirt
She picks me up
Tapes my cardboard heart together

This warehouse girl
She catches the guys in deep stares
Brown days and nights
Oh she wasn’t handled with care

Punch me in
Pack me right
At shift’s end
Wrap me tight

This warehouse girl
She scanned my heart with dark eyes
And checked me out
Boxed up tightly with her smooth lies

This warehouse girl
Lives a life that others whisper
She ships me out
Down the line to a new lover

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

photo credit

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Interstate 80


Interstate 80 by Dave Schipper © 2007 Rose Riversongs

The prairie grass is bendin in the wind as we roll by
The sign on the billboard says buddy stop in a mile
Take your shoes off, kick back and rest for a while.
Your on vacation, no questions, just smiles

Interstate 80
What’s your hurry
The sign says 65
Interstate 80
Where’s exit 40?
Fifteen miles after 55.

Used to be more stressful ridin’ shot gun with the lady
Preteens in the back picking fights and acting caddy
Now classic music reminds us of actin’s shaddy
Late nights out in the back and hidin from your daddy.

Interstate 80
What’s your hurry
The sign says 65
Interstate 80
Where’s your 10/40
ARP hell yes I’m 55





We roll into the Cracker Barrel for some cheesy potaoes
Fried okra, chicken fried steak and hot cup of joe.
The waitress calls us hun and asks where we’re from
Down the road a piece, and she has friend in very same town.

Interstate 80
What’s your hurry
The sign says 65
Interstate 80
My eye sites blurry
Motel 6 exit 35.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Within and around you

God is love and God is grace,
And I see her in your face.
Yet the devil sure can dance
And I see him in your glance.

Painted evenings, misty morns
A veiled glimpse beauty born
Within and around you.

A spark and wild flames ignite
With no shame I lose that fight
For solace in her soft fur
Until we both breathe and purr

Silent evenings, busy morns
The gift of grace you adorn
Within and around you.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

when you...

When you play within the lines,
but dream outside them
Then you harvest a wild imagination.

When you smirk at someone
but long for their touch
Then you produce a fine tension.

When you stop for the night to ponder
but end up writing instead.
Then you write a prose for retention.

By Dave Schipper © 2009

Monday, September 21, 2009

God looked down...



God looked down on a little tribe in the desert
With infinite knowledge and perception,
God planted the seed of the Bible in Moses words.

The future would bring those to oppose
But God hoped in time the simple stories
Would be understood as words of prose.

The great beasts help form the planet
Yet to explain that to weak of heart
Would bring out another idol of granite.

Now he wonders about the black and white
Why do some believers never see gray
She hopes some day more will see the light

Dave Schipper © 2007

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Folk Angel









Just a dead Sunday on a business trip
Found me in a park with my guitar
San Diego makes me feel like an old hick
I don’t care, just take a swig of something dark.

I grab a C chord and start a Greg Brown piece
Down the path I see blue eyes in a fine dopplebock
She passes, wow they could sell ads on those cheeks
Two steps along, she wirls around to look back

My innocent hands sweat and I expect a frown
She pops her ear buds out and smiles instead
“Were you just playing, “If I had known”?”
Ok smooth and graciously I say, “Yep”







She laughs to show me her ipod is playing “Early”
Surprised, “So you have great tastes for one so young”
“Oh I love listening to Greg when I’m lonely
For home back in Iowa or just my mum.”

“I know every Greg Brown song, True!
Now you, I’d expect a sappy Jack Johnson tune.”
That got us both laughing, I offered her a brew.
“Sure, but I really supposed to be back home soon.”

Stories shared about family’s divorce when she was one
Her dad ran off and made a success of himself.
“He sent checks but we were all but forgotten
I think Greg’s music saved mom’s mental health.”


I showed pictures of the family in Wisconsin
And recalled Greg in a chainsaw muscle shirt
“Aha” she blurted, “that was the reason”
Mom named me Steele, that’s it; it for sure.”

More common bonds formed like Bohemian roots
Both saw Greg and Garnett at the Great River Fest
Her mother brought him a jar of canned fruits
And Grandad’s Bluff provided plenty of rest.

We shared names, and myspace addresses
I mentioned my journey as a songwriter
“Let’s play the Poet Game behind the fences”
She winked, “Just kidding you could be my father”

An awkward silence followed, so I started playing.
We sang about that little Iowa town, “Early”
“It’s late, my roommate will start worrying.
You know if you were my Dad I’d love you dearly.”

She said, “If I had only known”
My real dad plays cool guitar, is cute
Aspires to sing and write like Master Brown
I’d howl to the moon, rooty toot toot.”

“You are a folk angel brought to me today.
We have to make this meeting only a start.”
She took my guitar and put it out of the way.
Kissed me whispering, “You sweet old fart”

Folk Angel by Dave Schipper © 2007 Rose Riversongs

San Diego park pic
Lips

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Willow....















Willow look at yourself.
When you were born no one could have forseen.
You would turn out more like a scrub pine.

So you are not majestic.
Tall and stunning with long blonde branches
Hanging over a slow moving creek.

You live as a lone tree,
An individual on a grand mountain side.
Providing a source of life to many.

Willow you soften reality.
Basking in God’s glory, you’re a pillow
A small humble respite of joy.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs
Photo Credits

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

If I could...



If I could,
I would dress you.
The finest cotton
Soft peasant
Dress.

If I could,
I would help braid
Your silken hair
A expose your
Neck.

If I could,
I would kiss you
Once, twice, three times
Softly and longer each
Time.

Goodmorning
My love.


Dave Schipper © 2007 Rose Riversongs

Friday, September 4, 2009

The fog of life

The fog changed everything
There went the plan for easy drive
Eyes fixed, margins razor thin.
Not the moment he craved

The wipers worked like shit
Fluid and defrosters deployed
Almost resembled his life a bit
Both stuck in a cold humid void.

The rearview mirror had the same fog.
The bathroom mirror had the same boy.
Miles away from the last hug
But like that the fog lifts, oh the joy.

A two mile respite is okay
To a life of snippets and texts.
So seize the day they say
Drive out of the foggy complex.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

Monday, August 31, 2009

Bottomshelf













I am a bottom shelf value
The large shampoo bottle
The roll of garbage bags.

There is no glitz packaging
That’d be nothing but trouble
Simple, just read my tag.

The Lord hid me down here
Knowing someone would look
To grab value that lasts

So just a polite word to all.
True love has no source book
Bend down, look, it goes fast.


Dave Schipper © 2008 Rose Riversongs
photo credit

Monday, August 24, 2009

Solitude

Solitude

If it wasn’t for that hint of traffic noise,
I would know that I was alone.
Ok so mostly it by my own choice
That I sit in the dark in my home.

Yes the world is begging that I tune in.
Isn’t there something on that TV?
No, there is no tape of where we’ve been.
And gasp; no funny man emcee.

So life is there in the solitude of night.
I raise my glass of wine weirdly content.
Passively I took on love without a fight
But tonight I survey the damaged dent.

Something about the way you talked
Looking me straight in the eyes.
I could do nothing but blatantly balk
Then come swinging and spewing lies.

I was trapped in the denial either way.
Ignore or suppress the new passion
Or make it bigger than a passing stray?
So I admit that I’ve learned my lesson.

The night will end without a thunderclap
The day will start without a morning dove
I’ll go and live life like I give a crap
But wonder if you or I are really in love.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

Family Tree

Family Tree © Roseriversongs 2005 David Schipper

Take a little walk right back in time
Feel the wind cool the warm sunshine
Grab the hand of the one you love
Feel the love lookin from above

Just a branch in the family tree
They’re just folk like you & me
Sim’lar eyes, ears, hands & weight
We’re all linked to a common faith

Promenade to a dosey do
Family history we ought to know
Cowboy boots and petticoats
Dancin to the old timey notes

Chorus

Bridge:
In a farm house out of town
Friends all meet & gather round
Once a year in mid-July
They all travel far & wide

Sing & dance and have some fun
Exactly why they always come
They all leave with memories
Branches of a family tree


ps.. if you watch until the end you will see a fun outake when my son walked thru the room.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Love is Free at Last

Love is Free at Last by Dave Schipper (c) 2009 Rose Riversongs

The field was filled with bare foot girls
The church doors opened wide
The laughter of the children filled
The spirit of these sullen eyes

Solid stone over 100 years old
Means nothing to the little ones
But a spirit binds a new foothold
One to last to their father’s sons

Hallelujah The spirit is passed
Hallelujah Love is free at last
Hallelujah The table is set
Hallelujah No fears, no regrets


A rich patchwork of sizes and colors
A human ebb that flows in waves
Precious fabric of his earth he covers
With the souls he pledges to save.

‘tween the toes are daisy petals
He loves me and he loves me more
He plants the seed and wins the medals
But he weeps at the wages of war Chorus

The field was filled with bare foot girls
The store doors opened wide
The hunger of the people filled
The spirit of these sullen eyes

A rich harvest is bountiful
Grown and watched to maturity
Tastes and words purposeful
Bear love of holy purity. Chorus

Driven to avoid the lamenting
Though streets were really torn apart
She kept her small frame moving
The chaos couldn’t shake her heart

Music played in this City of Dreams
She played the muse with luck
Won the prize, strawberry cream
She left as the melody stuck Chorus

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Broadcast it to the void











Broadcast it to the void of space.
I could stare for hours at your face.
Whisper it under dim of the crowd.
I can barely say I love you outloud.
Grab a cliché like a spring coat
I’ve got words stuck in my throat.
Spend some time lost in thought,
I’ve no idea the life you’ve wrought.
Stop over and flash a smile my way
I can’t tell you how you made my day.

By Dave Schipper © April 2007
Photo Credit Eye of God

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Beauty in Strangers

They walked along as content lovers.
Her hair pulled up tight in a librarian bun
With a smiling face that would melt hearts

Her flower skirt flowed in the hot August air
And her white blouse was century old fashion.
I could see her beauty was taken for granted.

If I was next to her, one hand would take hers
My eyes would not leave her eyes
And I would caress the nape of her neck.

So if we can unlock beauty in strangers,
Can we do it in ourselves freely.
I would say it starts there first.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Free at last













The field was filled with bare foot girls
The church doors opened wide
The laughter of the children filled
The spirit of these sullen eyes

Solid stone over 100 years old
Means nothing to the little ones
But a spirit binds a new foothold
One to last to their father’s sons

Hallelujah
The spirit is passed
Hallelujah
Love is free at last
Hallelujah
The table is set
Hallelujah
No fears, no regrets

A rich patchwork of sizes and colors
A human ebb and flow in waves
Precious fabric his earth he covers
With the souls he professes to save.

In between toes are daisy petals
He loves me and he loves me more
He plants the seed and wins the medals
But he weeps at the wages of war

Hallelujah
The spirit is passed
Hallelujah
Love is free at last
Hallelujah
The table is set
Hallelujah
No fears, no regrets

The field was filled with bare foot girls
The store doors opened wide
The hunger of the people filled
The spirit of these sullen eyes

A rich harvest is bountiful
Grown and nurtured to maturity
Tastes and words purposeful
Bear love of holy purity.

Hallelujah
The spirit is passed
Hallelujah
Love is free at last
Hallelujah
The table is set
Hallelujah
No fears, no regrets

by Dave Schippper
(c) 2009 Rose Riversongs
Photo Credits

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Forever Nineteen













Just a pretty face in a busy place
I soon would melt in your hands
And you became regular in my plans.

Forever nineteen, so frozen in time
Twenty years passed so fast
But you are built to last.
Forever nineteen, so frozen in time

The months layered on in this bright salon
A rich text of news and playfulness
Left me wanting more, I confess.

Now suddenly everything’s casually
A spring and surprise to an old friend
Sure funny to look back how it began.

Forever nineteen, frozen in time to me
Twenty years passed by just today
And you still sweep me away.
Forever nineteen, so frozen in time

Still a Metallic Fan livin’ with the postman
A soccer mom queen and forever nineteen.
Forever nineteen, so frozen in time
Forever nineteen, such light shine, frozen in time.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

boy this will get me into trouble... it's had some changes...

Sunday, July 26, 2009

The Ghosts of St. Augustine

Ghosts of St. Augustine by Dave Schipper © 2006 Rose Riversongs

The ghosts of St. Augustine are an eerie sight
On rooftops, porches, and trees they come out at night
They walk this ancient ground, while their stories are told
By guides with lanterns, recounting tales of old.

The white gown of the bride
The candle in the night
The widow on the stairs
The renters Miss Faye scares

Ghosts of St. Augustine
Are the sights to be seen
Walk the cobblestone streets
And enjoy whom you meet

Pass the Bishop’s shrine and see the wayward bride
Who terrified those children tenting that night
Woke them with a cold hand brought screams and bone chills
Now she walks alone, mourning a love unfulfilled.

As guest G-Men talked, the innkeeper knew the plan
She gave the smuggler signal with lantern in hand.
Today her lost soul slips past the boarded entry
To the sea, Her hooded figure waves a sentry

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Shade

Shade is nature’s black hole for stress.
A good breeze and song in the air
Fills the soul like a warm caress.

Ah today is just a mere moment to begin
To rethink or even change on a dare.
Just thinking about it; paints on a big grin.

Should love really be openly shared?
Isn’t it just the passionate lure of skin?
But what if it meant we honestly cared?

I’ll let the answers evaporate in the wind.
Wrap up my relaxation neatly for later.
And be glad my yesterdays weren’t so thin.


By Dave Schipper
© 2009 Rose Riversongs

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

The Hunt

I’ll trade mischief for quiet air
Wrestling for solitaire
November comes round once a year
This time, it’ll be all mine.

I might sound a bit insincere
Lose my mom of the year
But the truck is loaded with gear
And they’re off to shoot deer.

No dirty boxers in my path
No shouted curses over math
I’ll light candles, take a bath
Then buy shoes and new bag
But I’ll hug them when they're back

I waited awhile for those boys
My man and the little joys
To grow old enough to enjoy
The hunt, together for a week.

Now the cats and I have the house
I’ll sit around in just my blouse
They’ll nibble his mounted grouse.
I’ll maybe a visit a boutique.

No dirty boxers in my path
No shouted curses over math
I’ll light candles, take a bath
Then buy shoes and new bag
But I’ll hug them when they're back

Dedicated to Becky Schlegel by Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Baby Blue

The faces of Baby Blue filled disk drives
She was laid out, sad and even holding knives
The lady took to any subject matter head-on
As poetic pause in the Gospel of John

If flesh means the stripped down honesty
Then she shared truth with no modesty
Though the absence of fabric did not release her
She envisioned her pink skin as a mink fur

Baby Blue is completely aware
Baby Blue says her prayers
Baby Blue lives in solitaire
Baby Blue wishes you were there.

Baby Blue healed strained little affairs.
She laid out all deals, and got them square.
But before the moment ended a photo taken
Years later they swear they were mistaken.

Digital pixels captured even complex days
Saved and shared to strangers in many ways
She shrugs her shoulders, and laughs it off
The lady dismisses stress with a little cough.

Baby Blue is a saint, I swear
Baby Blue is in my prayers
Baby Blue has my a solitaire
Baby Blue, I wish you were here.

I can dance the night away in pale bock
Any memory can be jarred with a walk
I can watch the gold grain fields dance
But wish instead to be caught in your glance.

Baby Blue will never leave, and always there
A google image search and all will be bared
A Lady frozen in time, in picture, and mind
She’ll always be the rarest of form you’ll find.

Baby Blue is much to aware
Baby Blue is in most prayers
Baby Blue lives in solitaire
Baby Blue is there when you care.

(c) 2009 Dave Schipper Rose Riversongs.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

I saw you

I saw you yesterday in another woman’s body
I caught myself almost reaching out to hug her.
Her eyes were windows back to your soul.
Her style mirrored your playfulness.

So today I sit and ponder it all over again
So today all the time passed has faded to days
Your voice cracked with the words, “I’m leaving”
Your glance and words went lower.

We both knew what you had couldn’t be replaced
We both knew that wouldn’t make a difference
Yes we’ll stay in touch through all the new ways
Yes we’ll work out any of the old details.

But even still pictures will get fewer.
But time may make us forget each other
Oh that sure was you yesterday
Oh and yes I still miss you.

© 2009 Dave Schipper Rose Riversongs

Monday, June 22, 2009

Ordinary



An ordinary morning
To pour out words for you.
You are
The rich taste of Columbian.
You are
The cool morning breeze.
You are
The twinkling distant headlights.
You are
The dampness chilling my bones.

If one is special,
It moves in an ordinary way.
You move
To the task at hand smiling.
You move
To the song’s sound slowly.
You move
Me to write these lines
You move
Me to thank God everyday.

I am just ordinary
And you are too, in a special way.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs
Photo credits : Coffee
Ordinary People

Monday, June 8, 2009

Today...


Today,
Everything reminded me of you.
The contour of the pen
The song overhead
The rain on my face.

Funny,
I’m probably not an afterthought
You are self-centered
You’re already down the road
You’re in your place.

Honestly,
My imagination created it all.
The look was innocent
The laugh was casual
The silence, just space.

At lunch
I reconcile the past events.
We’ll see other again and again
We’ll talk and freely laugh
We’ll meet face to face

And I
Will die a little more each time
When your eyes light up
When your hand touches my arm
When you turn with grace.

And leave.

Dave Schipper
© 2009 Rose Riversongs
photo credit

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

I die

The silence
Awoke my senses
The smell
Stirred my lust.

I am hopeless
In love
I am devoured
By her.

When I begin
I stop.
When I smile
It’s fake.

Curse the silence
I scream
Absorb the wine
I die.


note... before you get too worried, it was written as a challenge not to write in rhyme.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Forced Rhymes....











What is poetry without rhyme?
A paragraph written in lines?
Structure and no punctuation?

I live life as an exclamation.
I smile at strangers.
Chuckle at imminent danger.

Forcing rhymes some protest
But there is no litmus test.
It’s all right to write on.

I let each phrase form a bond.
So read my blog for free
No pledge drive, no annual fee.

If this makes you huff and fume,
Go buy my cd on iTunes.
If you have the time…..

© 2009 Dave Schipper Rose Riversongs

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

The first warm spring day.
















Shattered shells scattered around
Leftover fall leaves litter the lawn
Menacing mole trails meander endlessly
The first warm spring day.

Undaunted delicate daffodils ease up
Last summers weeds now are vibrant violets
Deciduous wood is now furry with buds
Breathe the life of spring.

Garden gloves now found, get going
Flower beds to free from leaf blankets
Weeping willow branches to gather and burn
A bead of sweat, water for the soul.

Aching back and strained tendons say stop
Take a walk in the night’s dusk air
Then find solace in the blossom of pink
A glass of rose raised to the day.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Reality Slips in

"As he weaves thru the dance floor
Using moves from years gone by
They just don't know what's in store
A stud, a Clooney kind of guy

When reality slips in
You don't need to wait
For the booze to wear off
When reality slip in
He'll know he's up too late
And it's time to take off.

Reality slips in, slips in
As the dancers begin, begin
Love as sweet as sin, as sin
They will not lose again, no not again



As she dances with her girls so dear
Not a care if some think she's gay
They just bring her the right cheer
It's not he's available today.

When reality slips in
You don't need to wait
For a little fun and spice
When reality slip in
She'll dance til it's too late
She hears he's not nice.

Reality slips in, slips in
As the dancers begin, begin
Love as sweet as sin, as sin
They will not lose again, no not again

As they meet at the bar by chance?
No b.s. lines, they cut to the matter
Why don't they share a glass and dance
Age makes common sense sharper"

When reality slips in
You don’t need to wait
For a night so fine
When reality slip in
They’ll dance til it’s too late
And share some red wine.

Reality slips in, slips in
As the dance goes on, goes on
Love as sweet as sin, as sin
They did not lose again, no not again

Dave Schipper © 2008 Rose Riversongs

photo credit 2, 3 photo 1 Photo 4

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Stereotypes














Stereotypes are confirmed easily
An obese man at the Old Country Barfett
A fart conversation at a teen boy party
A cute thin woman at the natural food store
A curmudgeon old man who is a bore.

Stereotypes broken are harder
Catholics and Lutherans agreeing on Grace
A US President with an African face
Government spending that isn’t a hand-out
CEO’s who care a crap about ___.

I like to shatter stereotypes.
I am a conservative socialist.
I play guitar with an stiff wrist.
I eat healthy but drink cheap wine.
I’m an old fart who let’s his light shine.

by Dave Schipper (c) 2009 Rose Riversongs

photo credit

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Our Calling



For by grace we have been saved
Not by works, no one will boast.
We are God’s fine workmanship
Baptized in the Holy Ghost
All the gifts we have been blessed with
Are to share with one and all.
Now we all should heed his will
Look inside us and see our call

As we walk our daily journey
We bring with us all our gifts
Every trait we were endowed with
From our laughter to our wit
All the things that bring us pleasure
Were put right there from the start.
Now we all must heed our calling
Learn to share right from our heart

Daily tools which make our living
Are the ones the Lord approves
From every hammer , every keyboard
Bring a passion with Christ’s love
All the things that serve the Lord
At your fingertips each day
Now we all must heed our calling
Praise the Lord, whom we adore.

David Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Just a dream


Determined to make it right
Though love was out of sight
And the touch of real flesh,
Just a dream.



The memory of her was fresh
Like a whisper of warm breath.
But now what to do next
Only dream?

He got out his pen to write her
But just stared at the paper
The hollowness took over
His own dream.



So where could she be right now?
“I love her” he said out loud
Yet no one heard him
Just his dream.

So instead he lost himself
In work and books on self-help
Love still did exist somewhere
Just
in
a….
........Dream.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs
Photo Credit 1 Photo2 Photo 3

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Angels are overrated...



Angels are overrated. 
Where are they when a love leaves?
Have they fended off a tease?
Yes, they have flair the dramatic,
But do they stand in the streets
Do they make a hand out complete?

I can see white in the face of blackness
Stand on walls without a harness
We are a people given freedom
But few find the map to kingdom

Spiritual high is verb.
Arms raised high can’t grasp truth.
Arms at their side have no proof.
At the heart is an old word
But does it hit home or just aloof
Does the meaning ring home as truth.

We see the heart of man and look away.
Metaphors of scenery our words sway.
Feel good, live today, peace today,
But few talk about death anyway.

Don’t look at me for answers.
I’m dust in an ancient wind,
Lost on the blue ball that spins.
What can do you but swear?
Your allegiance, your one and kind
Your love for all,, and all in your mind.

Angels
So overrated.


and tonight for the first time.... a reading by Dave...


Tuesday, March 31, 2009

The Coffee Shop


Coffee Shop II by Dave Schipper © 2008 Rose Riversongs

In a small café she smiled from over the counter
Life is good, and God invented the doughnut.
There was time; different place, life was simpler.
Thank goodness someone invented sprinkles and nuts.

Now she warms her hands on the black cup and waits
Until she smiles and says good morning again
The doughnut gone but I pick the crumbs on the plate
Savor the French Roast and wonder where she’s been.

It’s just stories over coffee again
A warm place where smiles begin
We get lost in the troubles of the day
But treat each other in just the right way.

This morning did she wake next to a lover or a pet?
Did she stress over a test or just fluff her hair non-stop?
Too bad I couldn’t connect this morning, but
Life is good, and God invented the coffee shop.

It’s just stories over coffee again
A warm place where smiles begin
We get lost in the troubles of the day
But treat each other in just the right way.

Now it’s time to go, I’ll release her this time.
Let her escape my psyche until I think it over.
Yes claim that a stranger inspired this strange rhyme,
But I’m sure she’s someone’s lucky lover.

It’s just stories over coffee again
A warm place where smiles begin
We get lost in the troubles of the day
But treat each other in just the right way.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Front Page of the Wall St. June 9th









...© 2005 by Dave Schipper

Printed in black and white
Words of news so concise
Be it trials or stock climbs
Turbulence seems the line

What can this reality be?
What is it that God sees?
His people lost in sin
Or asking where to begin.

Stars with their own lines
Countries with no peace signs
Agendas and denials take shape
Yet more hunger and rape

Are we fatally flawed
As the news would conclude
Or we in desperate need
Of Christ’s love indeed.

Fold up neatly the Wall St.
A life is never complete
Commit yourself to love
All as the one above.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Question?












Don’t we all grow restless?
Like waiting for Santa,
Love, jobs, hope; it’s ageless.

I am waiting also
For answers in my life
Then the questions will slow.

Ok, that’s a pipedream.
Life is a puzzlement
No hard answers to gleen.

Should I be frustrated?
Feel lost in a quagmire?
Or just be comforted.

The sun will rise and set.
Love will answer it all,
And questions? I forget.

Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

Monday, March 23, 2009

That Voice

Photo Credit








There’s that voice inside me again.
Why does is always know where to begin?
It preys on my deepest regrets and desires
It has no tack, and doesn’t get tired.

Write, call, change, and wake up it commands.
But I’ve got this built in muffler on hand.
It keeps me sheltered from what’s right
Leaving me no guilt to party through the night.

No wonder I wary of the quiet places,
All of the sudden the voice starts having a face.
Real enough to make an ache in my heart start
Facing reality is what they say, “the hardest part.”

I will find my way to mute that voice again.
But today I can hear it loud, and I understand.
Act this way and that way, make your mother proud.
Be nice to people, and blend into the crowd.

by Dave Schipper © 2007 Rose Riversongs

Saturday, March 21, 2009

She








She by Dave Schipper © 2007 Rose Riversongs

She can shift colors
Like a fine Ferrari racer
She can shed lovers
As clothes off a high priced escort

She can melt strangers
With a voice so hot yet tender
She will not linger
In a town known for danger

Panic striken,
she sees only voids
Often remote
with a choice of boys
Drawn and cornered,
she screams to the crowd
“Damn you cheaters”
She roars back so proud.
“You too Promoter”
In a reverb loud
She is now over
In a fatal cloud.

She did shift colors
And crashed like a NASCAR racer
She shed good lovers
As clothes off a cheap hotel hooker

She did melt strangers
With a voice so hot as cinders
She will still linger
In a town known for danger

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Dear Boss



For St. Pat's here's a traditional musing ... Go Erin.

Dear Boss, I write this note to tell you of my plight
And at the time of writing I am not a pretty sight
My body is all black and blue, my face a deathly gray
And I hope you understand why Paddy's not at work today

While working on the fourteenth floor, some bricks I had to clear
And to throw them down from off the top seemed quite a good idea
But the foreman wasn't very pleased, he was an awful sod
He said I had to cart them down the ladder in me hod

Well clearing all those bricks by hand, it seemed so very slow
So I hoisted up a barrel and secured the rope below
But in my haste to do the job, I was too blind to see
That a barrel full of building bricks is heavier than me

So when I had untied the rope, the barrel fell like lead
And clinging tightly to the rope I started up instead
I took off like a rocket and to my dismay I found
That half way up I met the bloody barrel coming down

Well the barrel broke my shoulder as to the ground it sped
And when I reached the top I banged the pulley with me head
I held on tight, though numb with shock from this almighty blow
And the barrel spilled out half its load fourteen floors below

Now when those building bricks fell from the barrel to the floor
I then outweighed the barrel so I started down once more
I held on tightly to the rope as I flew to the ground
And I landed on those building bricks that were all scattered 'round

Now as I lay there on the deck I thought I'd passed the worst
But when the barrel reached the top, that's when the bottom burst
A shower of bricks came down on me, and I didn't have a hope
And as I was losing conciousness, I let go the bloody rope

The barrel being heavier, it started down once more
And landed right on top of me as I lay there on the floor
It broke three ribs and my left arm, and I can only say
That I hope you'll understand why Paddy's not at work today

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Old Shoes












Old shoes, old shoes
Been with you for a time or two
Old shoes, old shoes
Wouldn’t trade them for a pair that’s new

The leather laces have been replaced
Your wife says they are a disgrace
But they’re with you at the start of the day
A nothing else feels the right way, except

Old shoes, old shoes
Been with you for a time or two
Old shoes, old shoes
Wouldn’t trade them for a pair that’s new

As I walk I avoid the puddles of life
Just hop and skip on my daily hike
I smile to the ones I meet on my way
Though I stepped in pile of HEY..

Old shoes, old shoes
Been with you for a time or two
Old shoes, old shoes
Wouldn’t trade them for a pair that’s new

You can judge people by the shoes they wear
Just like you could by their underwear
But right down there for everyone to see
Are my old shoes smiling at me, they’re just

Old shoes, old shoes
Been with you for a time or two
Old shoes, old shoes
Wouldn’t trade them for a pair that’s new


© by Dave Schipper Rose Riversongs 2009

photo credit

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

So Why?













As I sit here in the middle of a fast food nation,
I can not fathom life in the middle east desert.
The sounds, the smells, the assault on the senses.
Could they fathom my life a good world apart?

I need to find words, ambition and opportunities
They cry to find peace, freedom and equality.
In the end we’re not much different you see.
But our culture has formed our assumed reality.

So I sit with a full belly and free woman around me
While they wander from one check point to another
I might be the evil person that they perceive
But equal religions, races, and sexes are the right order.

So how do I reconcile Law or Cultural Tradition
Do I find right words in the Torah, Bible or the Koran?
I suspect that these great books have the direction
Live humbly with love for others as a plan.

So why are we still fighting?

Dave Zeman © 2009 RR


Photo Credits

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

I'm waiting









I'm waiting, aren't you?
Ok mine are so minor
But they layer up like an old tree
50 years in making.

I'm waiting for a hug.
One again my adopted niece
All I can do is pray for her
And email winky smiles.

I'm waiting for Lisa.
Why did she zip in and out?
It doesn't seem fair, but life
Is weird in cyberspace.

I'm waiting for permission.
I know easier to ask forgiveness
For me it'll be
My style to wait.

I'm waiting for the song.
Not THE song but a song
That's covered in loving respect
And I'm sent a real small check.

I'm waiting for a sign.
That my pictures work
For selling lori ella jewelry
Yes it'll come in time.

I'm waiting to die
The hope is greater than I
But I recognize time
Could go for another 50.

So I'm waiting, aren't you?

Dave (c) 2008
Photo Credits

Monday, March 2, 2009

The laws...









The laws of science paused;
And the power of the motion pictures took over.
A narrow tunnel of silence surrounded her.
It wasn’t the first time to happen, but again
She was oblivious to the repeat event.

The laws of passion caused,
A momentary void, a time continuum rift.
Yes, age old passion makes the mind drift.
What can reel it back in? Absolute fear.
Life changing, yes maybe someone would hear.

The laws of nature unchanged.
The stalker carves out his silent territory
Writes the beginning and end to his story,
Oblivious if he has all the details right.
He’s confident that he needs to stay out of sight.

The laws of love unchallenged.
So he drags himself back into the sunlight
Hiding any wounds from his last fight.
Determined not to fight and lose again
He kept silent and instead picked up his pen.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

Picture credits

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Oh it's nothing




The reality of nothingness fills the room.
He sits at the table with a blank sheet and pen.
With a silent stare he picks up the pen.
Calmly, he lets his head's soundtrack take hold.
He writes,
The reality of nothingness fills the room.

by Dave Schipper (c) 2007

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Fast Cash










The sign said Fast Cash 583-7825
So I got to a phone cuz signs don’t lie.
The voice on the other end said please hold.
Then I found I had to pay it back four fold.

My mamma didn’t raise a fool
Hell I even graduated high school.
You can take your sign down
Cuz, I ain’t your next clown.
Nope you won’t make me a clown.

DZ (c) 2008

photo credits

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Where are you…










Waltz me around the room tonight
Then serve wine by candlelight
You’re suave of course
You prince, you stud horse
Where are you tonight?

That’s thirty years in real time
But you just relived it in your mind.
You’re not gone from me
But we look and can’t see
Where are you tonight?

Waltz me around the room
Then get in a bed to spoon
You’re not gone from me
But we look and can’t see
Where are you tonight?

Tonight you’re on a mountain crest
Ours dogs are not at their best
We slip in our bags
we make love til day
Where are you tonight?

There’s a twinkle in your eye
A fleeting moment , a surprise
Gives way to silence
Confusion is present
Where are you tonight?

Waltz me around the room
Then get in a bed to spoon
You’re not gone from me
But we look and can’t see
Where are you tonight?

by Dave Schipper © 2007 Rose Riversongs
Photo Credits

Monday, February 16, 2009

Fast Food/Slow Cash












Get a Big Gulp at the Big K and watch your waist grow
Take a rest at the Stop and Go; disappear some dough
Get a deal on a Chimi, a pay a buck for water
Take a look at your world it gets… better and better.

Fast food slow cash is eating up our world
either stress or food that makes you stomach twirl
Fast food, slow cash is eating up our world
It’s either that ….or religious quarrel.

Check the candy in aisle three, you’ll find something new
Fake tastes just for you, swear you’d think their real
At least trust the Enegerizer, the bunny is a treat
He’ll last for several hours to get tossed to the heap

Good God someone change the coffee, it’s been here since three
The counter girl stares her misery, one hour, four more
She didn’t cause the price to go up, so lighten up schmuck
Under her breath comes oh Fuck, there go’s a truck.

by Dave Schipper © 2006 Rose Riversongs

Sorry about the F word... I thought it fit the personality of the counter girl.
photo credits

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Paint me in Love
















As a Valentine special... feel free to email me at dave@theroseriverband.com and I'll send you a free MP3 of the following.


If I could draw
a face dear and warm
With eyes of passion
Smooth lines would form

Paint me in love, As soft as a dove
Sketch out a dream Someone barely seen
Lead me to draw The beauty that I saw
Paint me in love, with light from above

If I could draw
The fine lines of age
There’d be folds of love,
And beauty on a page

Paint me in love, As soft as a dove
Sketch out a dream Someone barely seen
Lead me to draw The beauty that I saw
Paint me in love, with light from above

If I could draw
Sensual curves of shade
Pleading deep dark eyes
and dimples concave

by Dave Schipper © Rose Riversongs 2005

photo credits

Monday, February 9, 2009

Just a cup of blog









Let me envelop your hands with mine.
Cold extremities are no problem.
My heart is warm for you.

Let me pour you a cup of coffee.
Fair trade coffee and French roast.
My eyes are stuck on you.

Let me tell you about my music.
Songs and artists with pure passion
My hands gesture to you.

Let me play you a song I just wrote.
If I could only sing like Tim
My eyes wrinkle a smile to you.

Let me kiss you gently on your forehead.
Thanks for being yourself.
My heart is warmed by you.

by Dave Zeman (c) 2008

Saturday, February 7, 2009

I tried.












I tried.
Truly I did.
I lied.
Falsely I stared.

I waited.
Listening close.
I shuddered.
Shaking cold.

I stopped then.
Turning around.
I shouted loud.
Damning them all.

I waited again.
Listening closer.
I heard nothing.
Dying inside.

I tried.
Truly I did.
I lied.
Falsely I died.


Dave Zeman © 2008
Photo Credits

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Wounded Heart



















by Dave Schipper © 2006 Rose Riversongs


Your warming smile is light, in the morn, in the morn.
Forbidden love is planted and born.
What secrets your dark eyes, reveal thru your disguise.
My wounded heart rests in your arms, in your arms.
My wounded heart rests in your arms.

Love is a soft light,
A wind in the night
Words can be a call
The softest of all.
But you in the end
Are lover and friend.
But you in the end
Are lover and friend.

Time is a fleeting wind, thru my soul, thru my soul.
Just grains of sand to try and hold.
Was it yesterday, when you asked me to stay
My wounded heart has no control, no control.
My wounded heart has no control

My wounded heart
was not torn apart
But batter’d bruised
right from the start.
Now in your eyes
A glint a spark
Ignite a new fire
in this wounded heart.

Love is a soft light,
A wind in the night
Words can be a call
The softest of all.
But we in the end
Are lovers and friends.
But we in the end
Are lovers and friends.


photo credits

Love is a simple verb.


Love is a simple verb.
A transparent dart, straight thru the heart.
Love is a silent word.
Whispered thru eyes, shouted thru sighs.
Love needs to be stirred.
Blending the ivory cream, thick with dreams.
Love haunts afterward.
But as an angel ghost, sent by a heavenly host.
Love catches the unaware.
Until you’re suddenly aware, and gotcha is dared.


Dave © 2006 Rose Riversongs



Photo credits, and I had no idea that these T's existed.

Harmony












“Harmony” by Dave Schipper © Rose Riversongs 2005

If I would have one dream, it’s just for you and m
To live in harmony, our whole life through
The years are passing by, just a blink of time.
Keep the beat, hear the drum of our hearts alive.



Notes are black and white
Simply organized
Life is improvised
And often in disguise.
Voices harmonize
Blend and come alive
Together they do tie
As do our hearts

Night are longer now, it’s just a solo act
Melody clean and pure, with no allure
I’ll still sing it loud, just a note above
In harmony, to the one, that I still love.

Notes are black and white
Simply organized
Life is improvised
And often in disguise.
Voices harmonize
Blend and come alive
Together they do tie
As did our hearts

The dream is still alive, if in our children eyes
They blend our differences into nuances
Taking minor chords, finding the bottom third
Livin’ the beat, hearin’ the sound of unsung words.

Notes are black and white
Simply organized
Life is improvised
And often in disguise.
Voices harmonize
Blend and come alive
Together they do tie
As will their hearts