Never . . .

Problem is, I didn't do it
When he was around
For whatever reason
My own discomfort
My excuses about the time
My self-consciousness
My lack of 'closeness' to him

And now I can only speak to the cosmos
With the knowledge that
While my words are not in vain
There is no mortal being there
To receive, comprehend and accept
Any thoughts, words, comfort or appreciation

But my breath is not wasted on the cosmos
My words are disbursed among the infinite intelligence,
consciousness or universal presence
So while it may seem to me
To be too late to offer anything
I hope, in my great deep-down,
That is really isn't
And I say to myself once again
As I always have in these situations
That I promise to never do that again


Too Long
©2018 Raymond M. Jozwiak

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Tell me at
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(To Access all Ray Jozwiak - Gonzo Piano music you can copy-and-paste this URL directly to
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Limousine . . .

She comes out of the night she wrote every book you've read
Fingering her pearls every bead a lover dead
She wears that feathered hat ends up burning on the bed
Her freedom ring's not cheap the beast the till both must be fed

We twins sit on this leather seat this woman this man
One lives the level of her heart the other's gland's in hand
She serves that wicked brew opens minds opens eyes
Holds up the looking glass cracks to cut the shame that binds

What is is what is not is too
This emptiness inside includes
The mystery awaiting moving you
To be released and not removed

And she runs me down in my limousine
And she picks me up in my limousine
And we drive it home give our breath away
Though I'm left alone no way am I the same

The hand extends the fingers eyed they fondle urging every word
You only have what you give up fluxing in the flow
Holding on to what you want will only keep it out of reach
And lock you up inside yourself and block epiphany

Read the beat the rhythm takes and gives
The bodies dance in primal play
Forever steps alive into today
Here each word points but does not say

And she runs me down in my limousine
And she picks me up in my limousine
And we drive it home give our breath away
Though I'm left alone no way am I the same

What do you think?
Tell me at
http://www.rayjozwiak.com/guestbook.html  or at
http://www.ohomusic.com 

Get your copy of OHO's  Where Words Do Not Reach now!

The Ocean City Ditty Video is now on YouTube

My latest solo offering, Just More Music by Ray Jozwiak, featuring original, instrumental piano music is now available at - Just More Music by Ray Jozwiak

(To Access all Ray Jozwiak - Gonzo Piano music you can copy-and-paste this URL directly to
your browser:  http://http://www.cdbaby.com/Artist/RayJozwiak)

Also, be sure to visit:
http://www.rayjozwiak.com

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Limousine. . .

She comes out of the night she wrote every book you've read
Fingering her pearls every bead a lover dead
She wears that feathered hat ends up burning on the bed
Her freedom ring's not cheap the beast the till both must be fed

We twins sit on this leather seat this woman this man
One lives the level of her heart the other's gland's in hand
She serves that wicked brew opens minds opens eyes
Holds up the looking glass cracks to cut the shame that binds

What is is what is not is too
This emptiness inside includes
The mystery awaiting moving you
To be released and not removed

And she runs me down in my limousine
And she picks me up in my limousine
And we drive it home give our breath away
Though I'm left alone no way am I the same

The hand extends the fingers eyed they fondle urging every word
You only have what you give up fluxing in the flow
Holding on to what you want will only keep it out of reach
And lock you up inside yourself and block epiphany

Read the beat the rhythm takes and gives
The bodies dance in primal play
Forever steps alive into today
Here each word points but does not say

And she runs me down in my limousine
And she picks me up in my limousine
And we drive it home give our breath away
Though I'm left alone no way am I the same



Limousine
by John P. Graboski
(Oho [Jay Graboski, David Reeve, Ray Jozwiak]
recorded at Band Bash 2014 - “You’re With the Band!” -May 24, 2014)





What do you think?
Tell me at
http://www.rayjozwiak.com/guestbook.html 

OHO's "Ocean City Ditty," the CD single is now available at http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/oho4
(and, if you're in town, at Trax On Wax on Frederick Rd. in Catonsville, MD)

My latest solo release, '2014', can be downloaded digitally at:

(or you can copy-and-paste this URL directly to
your browser:  http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/rayjozwiak4)

Also, be sure to visit:
http://www.rayjozwiak.com

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We are. . .

. . . seven

—A simple child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
—Her beauty made me glad.

"Sisters and brothers, little maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? Seven in all," she said,
And wondering looked at me.

"And where are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.

"Two of us in the churchyard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And in the churchyard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven! — I pray you tell,
Sweet maid, how this may be."

Then did the little maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the churchyard lie,
Beneath the churchyard tree."

"You run about, my little maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the churchyard laid,
Then ye are only five."

"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"
The little maid replied,
"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,
And they are side by side.

"My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.

"And often after sunset, sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.

"The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.

"So in the churchyard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.

"And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."

"How many are you, then," said I,
"If they two are in heaven?"
Quick was the little maid's reply,
"O master! we are seven."

"But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!"
'T was throwing words away; for still
The little maid would have her will,
And say, "Nay, we are seven!"

(We Are Seven, by William Wordsworth)

What do YOU think?
http://www.rayjozwiak.com/guestbook.html

You can NOW download your
very own copy of Ray Jozwiak's
newest release:
AMBIENCE & WINE

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