A song about the dangers of growing up. To surfing, bonfires, beers and staying forever young. From the back pages of my Santa Cruz days.
Audios
Shuck My Corn, I’ll Peel Your Spuds
A couple new original songs. An elixir of folk, country and blues, blended and served with some funny lyric’s.
Heaven Help Us All
A mash up of hip hop, jazz and R&B. Kind of like a Reggae Polka put to a Bulgarian March………I call it Jaxx……
You Can’t Kill A Man When He’s Already Dead
Song composed and preformed by Victor S. Uriz II
You Can’t Kill A Man, When He’s Already Dead
Pinueta’s a village in a Mexican Valley
Across the river from the Federalizes
Where the rain does not fall and that land it is dry
And the crops do not grow and the farmers they cry
The Gringos they come with their money and cars
and bargain with peasants while they smoke their cigars
Acedro says someday I’ll swim that big river
And send back the money to my mother and sisters
His father he died when he was still small
The smell of Tequila is all he recalls
When he asked his mother all she said
Is you can’t kill a man when he’s already dead
Vocal Improv
Well, all he took was the shirt on his back
The river was swift and the night it was black
The search lights they turned the land to a stage
Where the actors are strong and the performance is brave
Acedro was caught and put behind bars
The nights they pass slow when you can’t see the stars
Something it broke, deep down inside
The shame he felt he could not hide
When the news found his mother all she said
Is you can’t kill a man when he’s already dead
Vocal Improv
The Coming Frost
Fire up that stogie and come sit down here next to me by the bonfire and I’ll tell ya a-lil story. Now, pay no mind to them bullfrogs moaning down there by the river, just settle on in and have a pull off my bottle of Thunderbird. Cause mister, if you ain’t got sompin burnin deep down in your belly, then this here story might up and leave ya all goose bumpy and squinty eyed. Ya can have yourself one quick swig, but don’t get all cuddly with-er neither.
Disclaimer-this piece has a two beer minimum. Don’t attempt to listen to this spoken word project until you’ve consumed at least two or more beers. It won’t make a lick of sense to those sober, rational and/or conventional.
This piece was co-written with Robert Finley, AKA Jhango. He was my best drinking buddy, pool shooting pal, fellow night wanderer, purveyor of words and rhythms, a hell-ov-ah guitarist, and most importantly, a gifted teller of tales………we once shared a common key whole view to this crazy world…..
Yeah man, way back then we held the keys to the kingdom——-
Drunken Lullabies (Dedicated to Jack Kerouac)
Yesterday was Jack Kerouac’s birthday. I wrote this jazz composition in his honor.
I hope you dig it——swing baby, swing!
You Said You Loved Me (but I think you lied)
Soundtrack “You Said You Loved Me (but I think you lied)” by Victor Uriz
Lyric’s
In this valley where the sun burns hot
upon a levee we both once walked
you said you love me once I thought
I can’t forget the things you forgot
Now you’re nowhere around
made your future in some distant town
you said you loved me in some old letter I found
I tore it up and threw it on the ground
I remember how our bodies shook
your dress on the floor the way you looked
Smell of your perfume as your love I took
these things you did I guess I mistook
I remember how you said goodbye
your voice it quivered a tear in your eye
you kissed my lips and then you sighed
you said you loved me but I think you lied
Winter here’s the snow it flies
skies are gray, the sun has died
and from you ghost I try to hide
I kiss another lips but I still see your eye
God I hate this way I feel
god I miss the way you made me feel
they say all wounds time will heal
I hate you so much but I love you still
I remember how our bodies touched
how warm you were how soft it was
you whispered that you wanted me so much
and in these words I did trust
I remember how you said goodbye
your voice it quivered a tear in your eye
you kissed my lips and then you sighed
you said you loved me, but I think you lied
The Low Lands
When I think of my hometown, I think of that fertile Sacramento Valley, where in late August the smell of rotting peaches hangs heavy in the humid evening air. For a moment, I’m once again consumed by that helpless feeling that would rise up in me when the three rivers that snake through the low lands swelled and threaten to breach the levee’s.
They nicknamed my town the walled city, due to all the eroding levee’s that encircle the houses, churches and bars. When I close my eyes, I can smell the earthy scent of damp sediment carried by the Sacramento, Yuba and the Feather Rivers. The raindrops became puddles, the puddles became little streams and the streams a raging river. The murky water slowly rose as it threatened to crest the river banks.
Every thirty years or so, the rivers would join forces and break the levee leaving the houses ransacked and the tired old town in shambles. The tenacious currents washed away the bridges, the trees and the accumulation of belongings that make up a man’s life. And after the waters receded, the people stood expressionless on the ground where their homes had once anchored them to a sense of permanence.
Thinking back now, I’m not sure if the levee’s were there to keep the water out, or us in. To this day, when I listen to the sound of rain falling outside my window, I never underestimate the power of a single raindrop.
It was here, that I first had my heart broke, but that’s another story……
Life is the Iliad, love but a Haiku===even the slowest of readers must sooner or later turn the page…..
Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light.
–Theodore Roethke, The Stony Garden 7 MORE WORDS
Briar Lane
February is the heart of winter, here is my Valentine to the day, to the season.
Give it a listen.
Rants, Raves and Random Thoughts 