There was a time when I went to work with a socket in my pocket, grease in my eyeballs and oil in my brains. Yes, I was a young lad on the lube rack. It was the slimiest job I ever had but it led me to embark on an apprenticeship in auto mechanics. After a year and a half of slogging it out in the smelly pit this funny song blossomed. It was recorded at Fluid Sound where we threw in myriad sound effects and silly noises. For added ridiculousness I hired an opera singer to wail in the background. This comedy number takes people by surprise when I trick the listener's mind into thinking dirty thoughts.
For today's blog I give you my latest poem:
Confessions to the Father
Forgive me father, I have sinned
It's been a while since words flowed from pen The heavy days interfere in useless fashion
I’m sagged, I'm bagged, I'm old, I'm lost
My spirit’s broken, I’ve paid the cost
Of hunting for a dream that gives me passion
I hang onto my grocery cart
I can’t imagine where to start
With no wisdom to impart in your direction
The perfect drink, the perfect bar
A summer night with a shooting star
But every phrase reeks of imperfection
I wrestle ghosts and try to write
But the page is blank and the pen won’t bite
Poetic flow is a distant mole worth lancing
Now and then I find the time
To enjoy enough to create a rhyme The words become the dream that I’m romancing
A statue screams with jaws of stone
The grizzle dangles from a bone
My hunter's knife is reaching for my jugular
And still my morning starts at 5
I stretch to check if I’m alive And hobble to the coffee shrine of purpose
Every day is an endless scheme
Of rotted hopes and silly dreams I can't recall what my true love said this morning Some list of food including bread I'd have to buy or I’ll drop dead In some produce section overlooking Heaven
I scratch the itch and touch the wind
Squeeze my brain and look within And howl in the night like hungry ravens
I know you love the symphony
The sharpened claws of destiny
Hence these priceless bits of inspiration
Red wine flowing cracks the ice
Time to take my own advice And turn my scrambled visions into portraits
I open up my treasure box
And only find a tongue that talks In tongues I cannot understand or fathom
A distant voice calls out my name But my name's been changed so I can't be blamed For sifting grains of someone else's laughter
A naked woman sings to me
And I am sure that you'll agree We listen to the babe who glows with freedom
Her breasts are open to the wind
Her arms reach out and welcome in
The man who sees the question to his answer
The menu is a flopping fish
Upon the shore beside the wish That she might serve it up with good intentions
She breathes the power of the sun
And tells him he’s the only one It makes him feel like he can be her hero
I can tell that winter’s gone
By the crows upon my mossy lawn Stealing ribbons I've tossed into the wasteland
I said "yes" - they said "nope”
I jumped in the lake of hope Reaching out with arms that have no freedom
Do you hear my solemn voice
As I balance fate, need and choice And do you have a song that you can offer?
I’m in search of diamond light
Imagination feeds the fight A picture of the present and the future
Hoping for poetic air
A form of thought not round or square I'm looking for the eyes expressing laughter
I stand naked without shame
And dance beneath the pounding rain That’s drumming on the old tin roof like questions
As I confront my broken past
I'm bound to open one more flask And reflect upon the notion that I'm ready
But I am weary to the bone
And even though I'm not alone I just lie down to auto tune my heartbeat
Let the sunset kiss my brow
With the warmth of here and now And soothe the pain of nothing going nowhere
I confess to you and yours
Like a creampuff soaked with cures For everything that ever really matters
I tip my hat, I say adieu before I think of something new
The truth is in the clouds that never scatter
Written by Mark Sheldan
Lea got me hooked into felting. Hours of poking needles into wool is one of the strangest art forms I have ever attempted. But I like it. If you are not satisfied where a blob of colour ends up you just pick it off and put it somewhere else!
It's painting with wool. This picture might represent what I feel like after a long, hard day's work.
Thanks to everybody for supporting me and my music and taking the time to read my blogs.
I hope it gives you a tickle of pleasure in this cold, hard world.
To listen to a full version of 'Life on the Lube Rack', go to my songs page on my website: www.marksheldan.com
To listen on Spotify go to:
https://open.spotify.com/album/0a4kxLsHASR5HFPQQdADIX?si=IePO4Vq0Q9WJQ9d-6JkNwA
Here are the lyrics so you can sing along with me
Life on the Lube Rack
Early in the morning I punch in the clock
Then my body goes into shock
I go to the lunchroom still in a dream
I open my locker and my coveralls scream
Turn on the compressor and I turn on the light
I remember I forgot to sleep last night
The stuff I was drinking sure got me thinking
And I think I was drinking all night
Life on the lube rack sure can be strange
With grease in my eyeballs and oil in my brains
There's a socket in my pocket and I know it won't fit
And the transmission fluid keep smelling like -
Shivers are running up my spine
Cause mechanics keep honking them horns all the time
Take my battery water, my funnel and blocks
It wouldn't surprise me if they took both my socks
Oh, then there's the mileage I've put on the floor
Just to get to the parts department next door
Only to discover I shouldn't have bothered
Cause they ain't got the parts I came for
Love is just like an oil change
It's something that everyone needs
Without it we lose all our bearings
Just pull out your dipstick and see
Life on the lube rack sure can be strange
With grease in my eyeballs and oil in my brains
There's a socket in my pocket and I know it won't fit
And the transmission fluid keep smelling like -
Ship all them filthy old engines to me
I'll make 'em feel like they swam in the sea
A good lubrication is like a vacation
A vacation is just what I need
Now you've heard about Jesus and how He walked on the sea
And you've heard of the statue of liberty
And you've heard of the great me who set us free
Now you've heard of the lube rack and me
written by Mark Sheldan
copyright 1992 socan
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