The Monkees film Scene XVII

(Next morning all 4 Monkees plus Mary, Carole and Shannon)
Shannon: So where are all you guys from?
Peter: I lived everywhere up the Northeast coast, primarily Connecticut.
Mike: Texas Dallas area
Micky: L.A.
Davy: Manchester, England
Shannon: Really? How did you guys meet?
Mike: We went to the same LA area college hoping to make it big as a star before we had to graduate.
Shannon: So what did you all study?
Micky: Architecture.
Davy: Performance Arts
Peter: Computer Sciences
Mike: Me too
Shannon: So I guess Mike and Peter met first.
Davy: No we all met at an audition where this performance arts center was hosting a Beatles tribute musical.
Peter: They thought Davy could play Paul if he could play an instrument.
Davy: That's when we formed a band and I learned how to play bass.
Shannon: What drew you guys together?
Mary: They were the last four cut.
Shannon: None of them made it?
Peter: I didn't look enough like a pop star.
Micky: I was manic and spontaneous but I wasn't as witty or classy as the Beatles plus I ad libbed too much.
Mike: I had too much of a country sound for any of the parts.
Mary: Mike and Peter were already accomplished musicians and so was Micky but they needed a drummer and he was a guitarist.
Micky: Davy had stage charisma and would have just been a singer if Mike didn't try to put him in his place and tell him to learn an instrument.
Peter: I went from bass to keyboards.
Carole: So when are we going to audition for The Great American Band and see the Hollywood area.
Micky: There's a problem with that plan, Mike?
Carole: (shocked) What?
Mike: Well it's a short trip but being unemployed, well except for Peter's part time work, we can't afford hotel rooms for all of us unless we share one room and seven is more than they would allow at any hotel so it's only going to be the band.
Mary: (angry) You can't even get a second room for me and you?
Mike: Lay off it's only a week and you know I'll be faithful.
Mary: How is it only one week?
Mike: Because if we last more than one episode we'll fly you all down to the show.
Mary: (bitter) Fine
Mike: Okay tomorrow we'll practice again at the Vincent Van Gogh Gogh.
Peter: What song?
Mike: All of them.
Davy: Which are we going to use for the audition?
Mike: No clue, anyone wrote anything new?
Micky: Let's just practice what we already know.

Poetry Post 132

Out Of My Bed
Hide me in my bed
From these days I've come to dread
Another stone on a mountain of stress
Piling up in measures so limitless
I want to hallow it out and hide in a cave instead
If I was never to get out of my bed again
There's one less stone to be tossed in
There's one less boulder
On my shoulder
And a start of the mountain's end

Dedicated To A Dying Hero
It's so sad to see you go
You are the best friend I never could know
It is too hard to carry that weight
The weight of a death of someone so great

Wasting Time
I'm sorry I need an escape a relaxing distraction
Something to release the stress of immobile action
Always doing and never going
No accomplishment showing
Moving from mission to mission
I need an intermission
Places to go that always close too early
No reliable transportation available to me
No money to get my work to the next stages
And I have no job no reliable wages
Nothing necessary I have but time
Wasting it was a necessary crime
I have nothing constructive to do with it
So I saw no crime in wasting a bit

Poetry Post 131

Doing Fine
When people ask me how I'm doing I say "fine I guess"
There is nothing I need to confess
Because no news is good news and there is no bad press
So by all accounts I think it's going good
I may not be doing all I could or should
But that is well understood
But though my good acts don't go far
My bad acts stay right where they are
So I'm doing just fine by any bar

Starting Life Over
Don't be afraid of trying
Escape, be free, start flying
Flee to a world of trees
Among the nightly breeze
A calm world is waiting for you
Start your life fresh and new
Where the green grass grows
And the lazy flower bed flows
Stay in peace
Let the pain cease
All of life is in harmony
The way God said it ought to be

Music II
Listening to my radio in bed
Calmness in my body and head
The music just soothes my spirit
All my demons halt when I hear it
The world of pain is frozen still
No more being teased or ill
The new world too good to be real
After it ends pain is all I feel

Poetry Post 130

Drafted II
Twenty years after the war
They're back fighting even more
Against the same nation as before
Now I've been called to the draft for a nation that lied
For they said a commie's attack was how he died
When it was highly propagandized mass suicide
Why can't they face their mistake
But yet another they make
So I must run from the law for human life's sake

Nothing Changes
Nothing changes people are still being left in need
Victims suffering from another man's greed
Across the land people are blind to any solution
All they see are the effects of the pollution
This should heighten one's resolution
To change this institution
But I don't know where their resolution went
But with time, work and money people turn indifferent

Worthless War
There is nothing noble about war
There is nothing glorious about gore
There is nothing worth killing for
What is romantic about the battles of yore
Why fight worthless wars anymore

Poetry Post 129

Looking For Reason, Faith, Peace
Hundreds of years the hunting hasn't ceased
Looking for reason, faith, and peace
Prisoners waiting for release
Looking for reason, faith, and peace
Reason is the truth behind the truth
A link between a clue and the proof
Faith is the security of proven fact
A certainty without any lack
Peace is absolute freedom of existence
Without force, restraint or resistance
But reason has been reclusive
Faith has been illusive
And peace has been elusive
And those results are all that seem conclusive

Emotional Slavery
Hunchbacked from a burden you cannot see
My frail, broken shadow shows a soul of slavery
My master is the master of depression
He whips me into anguish and aggression
You wouldn't understand why I'm so frustrated and dramatic
But in my life self doubt and self hatred come automatic
Failure is not an option it's my lifestyle
Misery is not a feeling, but my genetic profile
So you ask expectations to be set upon me
But what can you expect when I'm not emotionally free

King David
On the road of King David I wish to trod
A human soul with the will of God
A brilliant hope to those living with sin
Proving flesh is an obstacle to even the holiest of men
I wish to be such a warrior of ethical humanity
Someone who in battle can maintain moral sanity
From Goliath, to Saul, to Bathsheba, to Absalom
You had many resentful feelings to overcome
Your passion for all things divine in man and beast
Makes you a hero and a friend to say the least
I feel like I know where you come from
Hopefully I'll follow you into Jehovah's Kingdom

Volume 128 of Poems (got more rhymes than J Ds got Salingers)

Natural Love
When I talk to you I feel no social anxiety
Because when I talk to you, you become a part of me
You sit without judgment so I can speak freely
But your compassion and care turn me on
And then the comfort level is all gone
Because I want too much to strengthen the bond
So I quietly wait for your love to grow forward
And you can be part of the relationship I'm headed toward
And our love can our love's reward

Do You Think?
Do you really think you know what it's like to be "independent?"
Do you think you can find hope without commitment?
Do you think making it on your own is abandoning those who loved you?
Do you think it means not having to think it through?
Do you think independence makes you free
Even when you leave all sense of community?
Are you happy with no one but the pictures on your shelf?
Are you fulfilled living for nothing, nothing more than yourself?

Saint Nobody
Do you know of Saint Nobody
Never acts weird never looks gaudy
Lives a life lacking the need of correction
In an ideal world he's the model of perfection
He lives with no form of contradiction
A prime example of social restriction
He's the saint from Nowhere
And its not that he doesn't care
He just assumes the world is fair
And there's resolution to every prayer
And to question is something he just wouldn't dare
He can't just be Mr. Someone of Somewhere

127th Volume of Poetic Works

Public Isolation
I'm sick of all the stranger's faces
I'm the loneliest in social places
I don't like staying around
Just to put my hands in my pocket staring at the ground
If I gonna listen to conversations I can't take part in
I'd rather hear it from my record bin
I try to mix with the crowd
No one seems to hear when I scream out loud
I try to break the walls of social anxiety
But what's the use when you're shunned by society

Don't Worry
Don't worry about the rest of the world it doesn't matter
They're all lost in meaningless chatter
Don't worry about what they thought of you
For of you they hardly knew
Don't worry about what they think
They'll be gone in a blink
And they take the trivial so seriously
And they take the serious so frivolously

All Things Are Lost
Nothing is as good as it seems
Every day I'm faced with broken dreams
Every day living in hopelessness
With my questioned future adding to my stress
All things are lost and gone forever
What I had yesterday I shall see again never
Yet I must find a way
To keep what was mine yesterday