Barry Smith: When the muse is over … |

Barry Smith: When the muse is over …

Barry Smith

Occasionally I go through phases where I’m not ashamed to admit that I write poetry. Today you’ve caught me in the middle of such a phase. Lucky, lucky you.


I tried marching to the beat of a different drummer

But for some reason this drummer really sucked

Way too many solos, first of all

Could not stay off the crash cymbal

And the guy couldn’t find a one in a bag full of ones

I’m like, “Hey, could you not play ‘Wipeout’ while I’m trying to sleep”

And he’s all, “Don’t yell at me, dude, you’re the one that wanted to go the whole different drummer route.”

I tried marching to the beat of a different drummer

But one day it dawned on me

Who the hell wants to go around marching, anyway?


Here I sit,

All broken hearted,

Tried to collect my scattered thoughts about the nature of existence into some sort of cohesive world view that would leave me empowered and inspired,

And only farted.


Send e-mail to my fax machine

I’ll wait for it behind the screen

I’m virtually always at home

I’ll look for you on my cell phone

I hope that all is going well

I’ll link you to my URL

Then we can meet in IRC

I hope you still remember me

Put me in your PDA

I forward calls when I’m away

Here’s my card on DVD

I’ll download you an MP3

Just time for a short reply

To your response and quick goodbye

I’m sorry I’ve not been around

My local server has been down


Well I’m a backdoor man,

But the front’s good, too.

I like Willa Mae Brown,

And John The Conqueror Root.

To say I got a Mojo,

Would mostly be correct.

Tonight I’m out with my girl Moe,

But Joe’s breathing down my neck.

[Chorus! What, you mean you haven’t been singing this?]

Oh, when you swing both ways

That sure cuts down your chances to lose.

I’m telling you something people,

I may be too bisexual for the blues.

I like to smoke and drink and carry on,

I like Monday night sports.

But I’m also quite fond of gourmet lettuce,

And celebrity gossip reports.

I use power tools for home repairs,

Got a holster for my cordless drill.

When I go out to dinner I finish my garnish

And don’t argue ’bout who pays the bill.

Yeah, blue was never my color,

I think I look better in chartreuse.

Oh Lord have mercy,

I may be too bisexual for the blues.

Well I’m standing at the crossroads,

So it’s hard to go straight.

Got special riders AND ridees,

So I always gots a date.

I’m equal parts hoochie and coochie,

Which some find mighty pleasin’.

And when it comes to my lemon,

I’m not picky ’bout who does the squeezin’.

Whether an innie or an outie,

Make me an offer I just cant refuse.

Yes indeedy I fear it’s true,

I’m too bisexual for the blues.

Well the devil got my woman,

Just last Saturday night.

Seems he wanted me all to himself,

So why put up a fight?

I may as well go back over yonder,

Way across the hill.

If my girl don’t love me no more,

I know her brother will.

Brown liquor in a dirty glass,

Or a martini with just a hint of vermouth.

Oh, now people, it’s official,

I’m too bisexual for the blues.