Opening Argument
You could not please the judge
You could not make the bail
Your sentence is for life
Life itself is the jail
I can not free you
I'm standing my own trial
But in these songs I baked for you
I've hidden a steel file
© 2004 Z. Oberzan
You wanted to smoke, I wanted to know
Where do surrogate lovers go
Would you keep me in mind or slowly forget
Or stamp me out like your cigarette
Blue light slinks in
Slivers of dawn are sliding on your skin
And I see the mess I'm in
And both of us must have opened our mouths
I remember some noise, some animal sounds
I'm sure at the time they must have been words
But that's the best my memory serves
Blue light slinks in...
The more I say the more I realize
There is nothing to say, words only disguise
The passionate savage, who tries to inflict
His will on the world with a sharpened stick
Blue light slinks in...
But the world doesn't care, and neither do you
So what's a poor monkey like me to do
I'll look for the tallest tree to climb
When I reach the moon, I'll make it mine
Now I draw the shade
Wondering what would happen if you stayed
And I see the mess I made
If nothing else I am glad you came
You who allowed this monkey to change
His answer to the hard question of
"Haven't you ever fallen in love?"
©2003 Z. Oberzan
I Own the Moon
I have spent years and many a day
perfecting a voice that does not pay.
And I own the moon. I bought it at dawn.
I took off my clothes and then it was gone.
Certain things are beyond my reach.
The scope of your body is beyond my belief.
Love was ignored, choices were squandered.
I know how I got here. I blindly wandered.
(This is for Esme, with love and squalor)
And science is science and God is a wish
but a spark of magic might still exist.
And the nights are so very long and comically tragic
and I'm pounding the chest to resuscitate magic--
Unseen but afoot. Broken but flying.
Like what I gave strangers before I stopped trying.
Like seeing her topless from behind,
it's what I don't see that ignites my mind.
And I have spent years and now most of today
perfecting a voice that does not pay.
© 1999 Z. Oberzan
The Beauty of Being Me
If only they had stopped when there was nothing left to take
That would have worked in favor of everybody's sake
"I'm left with less than nothing," I told Judy, on one knee.
"So what is there to lose? That's the beauty of being me."
I'm crumpled in your chair, arm on arm, leg on leg
Your body's built for pleasure, mine was built to beg
I'm quiet and I'm ugly and I'm moody but you agree
You wouldn't want to try it, but there's beauty in being me
I am the lord of lepers and I am the friend of freaks
I pinch the old misshapen on their filthy grotesque cheeks
Though I'm nothing like that handsome man whose duty was to bleed
My messianic mirror shows the beauty of being me
Now I lift my hand up slowly then return it to my side
I do this fifty times a day, it keeps me occupied
So what's become of the second son of Rudy and of Lee?
He is gently going crazy, that's the beauty of
(Preparing himself for some kind of final love)
Gently going crazy, that's the beauty of being me
© 2003 Z. Oberzan
Something peculiar happened that day, the day of the wedding feast
The bride, she tried to throw her bouquet but found she couldn't release
She tried again but to no avail, then blowing the crowd a kiss
She tried with one more wild flail and her hand came off at the wrist
To add an insult to injury, the next thing that we knew
The groom committed perjury when he said the words "I do"
You know people, they're discreet, there was just a nervous cough
Though a child whispered from her seat, "I think the reception's off"
The best man thought he'd lend his aid by striking up the band
And meanwhile the Honor Maid went looking for the hand
She found it resting quite serene, atop the wedding cake,
Replacing the plastic figurines. The band played Swan Lake.
The priest it seems was at a loss, this never happened before
He bowed his head and held his cross and whispered to his Lord
The bride, she tried her very best to stuff the gaping wound
But it swallowed up each and every guest, their gifts and all consumed
I don't know what to say to you. I don't know what this means.
I hope the woman is wearing blue when I'm married to my dreams
© 2000 Z. Oberzan
How You Shook
I wanted you when we had never met. I wanted you when I was your friend.
As a rule I want what I'm not meant to get. Thank you for letting it bend.
And bending unaware into the shape of human prayer, we athletes of lithe romance wrestled with shirt and pants, and you shook free.
Tell me how you shook, and if bells rang when you took your place among the angels in the ever-
lasting sphere. O won't you blow your horn on high, my dear.
You were the sad pretty woman who loved men who could sing even sadder. I was the man who fell down a hole and sang up to women with ladders.
I reached your final rung. I hoped my final song was sung. That's the romantic dream of a consummate song machine who's shaking your tambourine.
Tell me how you shook, and if bells rang when you took your place among the angels in the ever-
lasting sphere. O won't you blow your horn on high, my dear.
I tally the score of our old sporting days. Though I kneel in defeat, I hope that you still bend when you pray. I hope that you still compete.
I'll be fine. After all, there's Christmas, sex, and alcohol. Buy me a drink or three, I'm shaking the Christmas tree, until you can ask of me:
"Oh Zachary, tell me how you shook, and if bells rang when you took your final bow in front of humans
gathered for your show. For all the humans who came to your show."
© 2004 Z. Oberzan
Last Day of Time
I'm going to watch the sun rise on the last day of time
and call upon my true love to sit by my side
The light will illuminate what can't be said
Like an x-ray taken from beneath our bed
Get into position and get out the lead
It's the last day of time. Amen.
I'm going to kill the man that I was, bless his soul
He never did understand how to live on his own
He lived like a parasite beneath your skin
Or a scavenger of love digging through the bin
But as of this day he is born again
On the last day of time. Amen.
What comes this way in starts and fits?
Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
But I offer you this Revelation:
There is no end to the Act of Creation
I'm going to watch the sun set on the last day of time
and fall upon my true love to make a sweet good-bye
I've been a human being, I thanked them for my chance
I enjoyed the copulation and the high romance
But now I slip into some other circumstance
On the last day of time. Amen.
©2004 Z. Oberzan
Let Me Find You
Let me find you where you sleep,
a sunken mattress decades deep
Lost in dreams you suffered to come true
Cast from heaven, never found,
let me be forever drowned
In a South Pacific water bed with you
Let me find you in between
the pages of lewd magazines
Every naked woman drops a clue
Let me find you dark and wet,
let me light your cigarette
In a rainstorm on a New York avenue
And take the raincoat of this song,
drop your robe and put it on
Could it be this life is measured,
every sorrow, every pleasure
From the manger to the cross,
from bloody sheet to holy cloth
With the putting on of clothes and taking off
Let me find you lost on high,
short on fuel and long on sky
The sea below, no landfall in sight
We fall in love, we fall asleep,
we fall a hundred thousand feet
Sweet dreams my love, sweet dreams, and goodnight.
© 2005 Z. Oberzan
What Has Our Harry Done? (or, Why I Feel One-Six Billionth More Alone: A Comic Operetta in Three Acts)
ACT I
[Enter TOM and DICK]
TOM & DICK: What has our Harry done? He used to be so much fun. Now he never answers when we call. It seems he went and took his sense of humor off the hook.
TOM: And someone saw him staring at his wall.
DICK: Remember that time he snapped--
TOM: [something inaudible]
DICK: --very funny, I don't mean like that. As I was saying, snapped our photograph? He had the strangest smile. For a flash he was a child. I could swear I heard a child's laugh.
TOM & DICK: Ba room ba pa da pa, ba room bap a doo. Ba room ba pa da pa, ba room bap a doo.
TOM: Have you talked to his Mother? Has he been into work?
DICK: [something inaudible]
TOM: [continuing] No, I mean his real job. He works as a clerk. Let's jump on the bus and stop on by. We'll say that we just wanted to say 'hi.' Hi, hi, etc., hello.
ACT II
DICK: Here comes the bus right now. It'll take us to our Harry's house. Climb aboard and I'll pick up the fare. I hope he doesn't mind a couple guests near dinnertime. Harry rarely eats with-
TOM: [cutting him off] Oh, look we're there. I see a silhouette through the kitchen window, and I bet that's our Harry, sitting all alone.
DICK: I'll buzz.
TOM: Sure, go ahead and buzz. And let's see what he does. Maybe he'll pretend there's no one home.
TOGETHER: Ba room ba pa da pa, ba room buzz buzz. Ba room ba pa da pa, ba room knock knock.
DICK: Look, here he comes. Now don't let on that we came just to see if something is wrong.
TOM: If he's in a bad mood we can always reply we don't wish to be rude, but it's time to say 'bye.'
Bye, bye, etc., good-bye.
ACT III
[Enter HARRY]
HARRY: Who's at my door? Come in! Oh my friends, dear gentlemen! I'm so glad you came to say hello. I've been working in retreat and my work is now complete. Come this way and see before you go.
You see, I took a photograph of every human being-do the math! That's six billion pictures on my wall. Now if you squint then there appears a machine with six billion gears. And when one spins, so spin they all.
Ba room ba pa da pa, ba room spin spin. Ba room ba pa da pa, ba room twist twist. Oh my friends, I will share with you one last thing. For want of clear skies and for lack of wings, it's been really too hard for me to get by. But going is easy, now it's easy for to fly. Fly, fly, etc., I fly away. [Exit HARRY. Pause.]
TOM & DICK: What has our Harry done? He used to be so much fun. Now he's left us, mind and body flown.
TOM: I think of his photographs, and I wish I had the chance to ask why I feel one-six billionth more alone.
CURTAIN
© 2003 Z. Oberzan
I have learned that the perfect song
is no more than a few words long
I have learned that the perfect view
is when eyes see but don't construe
I have learned that the perfect tense
is not the past but what life presents
I have learned that the perfect thought
can be found but can't be sought
I have learned that the perfect heart
returns at long last to the start
I have learned that the perfect me
only needs a place to be
©2000 Z. Oberzan
My Only Home
You taught me some words, you gave me your keys
I opened your robe, I fell to my knees
I offered to love you all over the place
But no one could know, so I just loved your face
And the words that we bothered to say out loud
Vanished as quick as I do in a crowd
Unseen but afoot, on the outskirts of time
Where laws are no more than a nursery rhyme
I touched you so closely that I am convinced
There's a trace of you still in my fingerprints
So I just let the world unfold at the tips
Of my fingers so still, a slight smile on my lips
For the moon will still rise up between the peaks
That are pointed as wishes that nobody speaks
The secret desires we pin to the moon
As it giggles each night at the human cartoon
So I take the whole world and I call it my own
I may just as well, it's my only home
And I'll think of you fondly, the way I like best
Your body courageous, your spirit undressed
You taught me some words, you gave me your keys
I opened your robe, I fell to my knees
I offered to love you all over the place
But no one could know, so I stuck to your face
©2003 Z. Oberzan
One Half the World
One half the world gonna get up out of his seat
Walk to the window, look out across the street
One half the world gonna get up out of his seat
One half the world sees his next door neighbor's home
Looks just a little bit nicer than his own
One half the world sees his next door neighbor's home
One half the world curls his lip, narrows his eyes
Their grass ain't as green no matter how damn hard he tries
One half the world feels envy flood his eyes
One half the world is only seeing green
Grabs for some matches and some kerosene
One half the world is only seeing green
One half the world creeps over across the street
Douses the house, lights a match, beats a quick retreat
One half the world creeps over across the street
One half the world returns to find his own home gone
Nothing but ashes on a blackened lawn
One half the world returns to find his own home gone
Seems the other half of the world had a similar fear
That the grass looked greener there then over here
Seems the other half of the world had a similar fear
I'm just a funny kid in the middle of the street
Watching the history of the world repeat
I'm just a funny kid in the middle of the street
©2002 Z. Oberzan
People Like to Fuck
People like to fuck
People like to look at people they would like to fuck
People like to look at people they think other people would like to fuck
People like to watch a story with people in it they would like to fuck
If people don't want to fuck the people in the story, the story is not as good
Hey, I like to fuck
If I watch your story, can we fuck?
No?
Then I will tell my own story, and fuck myself
©2003 Z. Oberzan
Everybody's Got a Reason to Cry Tonight
Red or blue, black or white
Everybody's got a reason to cry tonight
Blind as love or restored to sight
Everybody's got a reason to cry tonight
Right or wrong, left or right
Everybody's got a reason to cry tonight
Nice and loose or nice and tight
Everybody's got a reason to cry tonight
Lost your pride or lost your kite
Everybody's got a reason to cry tonight
An adult won't, a child might
Everybody's got a reason to cry tonight
Future dim or future bright
Everybody's got a reason to cry tonight
We sure put up one hell of a fight
But everybody's got a reason to cry tonight
And every reason, you can trace,
backwards through the human race
to a single clap of holy thunder:
The boom that marked the dawn of Man
when Adam stretched his lifeless hand,
and touching God's, began at once to suffer.
O let there be a place of rest, O let there be a light
Everybody's got a reason to cry tonight
©2005 Z. Oberzan
Amelia Earhart lay in the grass
Watching the silent clouds roll past
She said, "Where is the love I've never found?
Maybe that kind of love isn't made on the ground."
Now when the last of those clouds rolled by
They revealed a paradox in the sky
Suspended by no visible means
There flew on high a flying machine
She said, "I see you're not one easily bound
By the law and logic of the ground.
If there is a love, made higher and free
I could find it with you, if you'll only take me."
The machine, he called down, "I can't guarantee
Such a passion as yours will defy gravity."
She looked at the ground. She looked in the air.
She looked up at him. She said, "I don't care."
So down he flew, and she climbed between
The wings of the flying machine
Then up they rose, so far above
To ditch it all for that kind of love
Oh her passion grew heavy, his engine grew hot
The thrust rolled him over, she rolled on top
And here, where laws can be damned, and logic be drowned
They made the love you can't find on the ground
Falling to Earth she watched the sun set
No fear, no sorrow, and no regret
She said, "Ah, how sweet this life can be!"
He laughed, and holding her close, smashed into the sea
And that love drifted up with the smoke and the steam
Back to the realm of the flying machines
So lay yourself in the grass, and when the clouds part
Behold the love of Amelia Earhart
©2003, 2006 Z. Oberzan
Lullaby
That is it. It is done. There is nothing left to do.
Fare thee well my warm sun. Goodbye my cool moon.
Greater than the secret of straw spun into gold:
Anger spun to threads of love--the torn heart shall be sewn.
Bent the words, made them bleed, forced them to agree
So precious then the moment when I let the words bend me
That is it. It is done. There is nothing left to do.
Fare thee well my warm sun. Goodbye my cool moon.
©2005 Z. Oberzan
| 