Song for Hire

Here are some words that

Need to be sung

Could use to be played 

Might be helped with a tune.

So if you know a singer songwriter,

Tell them this song’s for hire. 

 

He comes to this land

With little but busy hands,

Sharp mind and desire

To have a good life.

So if you want a dreamer,

This boy’s for hire.

 

Give me your tired your poor

The stiff lady in the harbor beckons.

They flock in by ship

And by planes and by feet

Doing work few others want.

This country’s for hire.

 

Look at them on your screens,

Hear what they have to say.

These messages cost lots of money,

And they’re all trying to appeal to you.

Figure out who might be telling truth,

This election’s winner is for hire.

 

He looks far and wide 

For ways to make it happen.

Nothing’s impossible 

Or too hard, too big or too small.

So if you need to get it done,

This guy’s for hire.

 

Writing something that makes sense

But sounds to others like nonsense.

It’s fact, it’s fiction, it’s poetry, it’s literature.

What difference does it make?

Just enjoy the sound and flow of the words,

This writer’s for hire.

 

Freedom of speech

For all citizens rich or poor,

In various forums and media.

But that also implies the right to be wrong

And believe what you want to believe.

This truth’s for hire.

 

Words and pictures congregate on phones and tablets

And computers with little and big screens.

Some are offensive and others reassuring

So pick the ones you like and deny the others.

Eventually you see what you want to be believe.

This newsfeed’s for hire.

 

The day’s newspapers are delivered

To the building’s varied residents.

Local papers, out-of-town papers,

Religious publications, gossip sheets.

They’re all there for anyone to read.

These eyes are for hire.

 

I think so but I’m not sure,

Maybe possibly perhaps possibly maybe.

My gut tells me so, but my head’s not sure.

It’s just a sense I have somewhere,

Something in me just tells me.

This feeling’s for hire.

 

To want and be wanted

And embrace and be cared for.

Isn’t that what’s it all about?

But often there’s a price to pay,

Compromises and sacrifices to make.

This love’s for hire.

 

So, there are some words that

Need to be sung

Could use to be played 

Might be helped with a tune.

So if you know a singer songwriter

Tell them this song’s for hire. 

Copyright 2020, Charles A. Bruns

The Queen of Corona

If me and Julio can ever find it

in the schoolyard,

we’re gonna beat the crap

out of it and be on the cover of Newsweek.

Then we’re going to make 

a basketball out of it,

and let every good college and pro player

pound it on the floor for a whole month.

And then we’re gonna turn it 

to a hard rubber disk,

and give every pro hockey player

a chance to whack it with a wooden stick.

Of course we’ll also shape it

into a soccer ball,

and make sure every futbol pro in the world

kicks it with all their might.

Eventually we’ll reduce it to a ball with strings 

wrapped tightly in cowhide,

and give every major league baseball player 

a bat to hit it hard hundreds of feet.

And then we’ll chisel it down even further

to a little ball with dimples,

and ask every golf tournament pro

to tee off on it with an iron club.

For good measure we’ll ask thoroughbred horse jockeys

and mighty race car engine drivers,

to run over it again and again and just leave it behind

in a trail of muddy dirt and dust.

But we can’t.

We can only avoid it like a plague

until it begins to whither and die.

And then me and Julio will find it 

and kill it off once and for all.

Copyright Charles A. Bruns, 2020

Concerts: hits and misses

A friend and former high school and college classmate recently shared some of her most memorable concert experiences on Facebook. It was very interesting to read, and got me thinking of some of my concert experiences:

First Concert(s) - When we lived in New York City, my mother would bring my brother and me to theaters where Spanish-language singers would perform in between movies. I don't recall any of their names, but they were good! In 1967, my stepfather and I saw Herb Alpert perform in a Central Park bandshell on a rainy night. My first rock 'n' roll show was The Rolling Stones concert during their six-night stand in June 1975 at Madison Square Garden in New York City. I'll always remember hearing the first chords of "Honky Tonk Women" as a five-pointed star containing individual members of the band opened up on stage.

Last Concert - Bob Dylan at the Beacon Theatre in New York the day after this past Thanksgiving, on November 29, 2019. At 78 years of age, he put on a great show for his fans, many of whom chanted "Let's go, Dylan!" before his encore, like New York Rangers fans at a Madison Square Garden hockey game.

Best Concert - David Byrne at Monmouth University in West Long Branch, New Jersey on September 7, 2018. I heard he put on a great show, but was simply blown away by the quality of the music and choreography. For weeks, I described the concert to family and friends as being like a Broadway show. Of course, it was: Less than 15 months later, David Byrne's American Utopia -- very similar to the show my wife and I saw at Monmouth -- had a four-month engagement at the Hudson Theatre on Broadway. You can see it until February 16!

Worst Concert - REM at the Capitol Theatre in Passaic, New Jersey, October 12, 1984. I liked the songs I heard on the radio from this up-and-coming band, who I read were on the verge of becoming rock 'n' roll geniuses. And they did indeed go on to great things. But they were a huge disappointment the only time I saw them in concert! Michael Stipe sang with his back to the audience much of the night and there was little energy coming from the band during the concert. Years later, I heard Stipe was very shy at that stage of his career.

Loudest Concert - THE RAMONES, HANDS DOWN! They were so loud at the Capitol Theatre in Passaic on February 10, 1979, that my girlfriend and I left before the concert ended because our ears were hurting. Seriously! I had a ringing sound in my ears for days, and it's a minor miracle I did not suffer permanent hearing damage because of that show. For years afterward, however, I did wear cotton in my ears to shows at the Capitol Theatre.

Seen The Most — I've seen Bob Dylan 19 times. Amazingly, I've seen him in 18 different venues, starting at the Hartford Coliseum on November 24, 1975. The only place I've seen Dylan twice in is the Beacon Theatre in New York City. And, if he returns there for another series of concerts around this Thanksgiving Day, I will see him a third time at the Beacon Theatre.

Next Concert - Probably one of the many free concerts in Long Branch's West End Park on a Sunday night or Pier Village on a Thursday night shortly after Memorial Day. My wife and I enjoy seeing as many of these shows as possible each summer and are fortunate we can just walk to them.

Most Fun Concert — This is the hardest of all to pinpoint. But I don't think the fun I had at a concert headlined by Yes in Roosevelt Stadium in Jersey City on July 25, 1975, was ever topped. It was one of the few shows in which the opening act, Ace (of "How Long Has This Been Going On" fame), was actually better than the main act. Of course, being able to enter the venue with friends carrying a spiked watermelon contributed to the fun! Tomorrow, however, I may remember a different concert that was even more fun.

Regret Not Seeing — Missing James Brown, Tito Puente, and Celia Cruz are my biggest regrets. My wife did get to see Celia in concert at the Tropicana Casino and Resort in Atlantic City on June 1, 2002, though, and told me all about it. And then there's Woodstock. I was working at a summer camp in upstate New York in August 1969 and signed up to go to the concert for a day with some camp counselors and other staff. They blew me off and went without me, however, because I was 5-10 years younger than most of them. We didn't see them back at the camp for days!

Thank you, Patrice Keegan, for inspiring me to share some of my concert hits and misses. I will always remember our trek to Hartford, Connecticut with friends in my Ford Thunderbird to see the Rolling Thunder Revue show with Bob Dylan, Joan Baez and cast that November night in 1975!

Moving To The "Country"

Clockwise from top left: Charley's first communion portrait; wearing his Little League uniform; in front of former childhood home. 

a poem by Marshall S. Harth

Moving to Bloomfield, to the "Country"
Was like entering another country
Everything was not the same
I even had to change my name!
Why was that, because of shame?
Who's responsible, who to blame?
I missed my friends, my neighborhood
I had to lie, do what I could
Not my choice, only what I should
But, being me, I held my own
I recognized how I had grown
New vistas opened up to me
I saw, eventually, who I could be,
And that's the tale of my "Identity"!

Copyright Marshall S. Harth 18 October 2019

After reading my autobiographical account about moving from New York City to Bloomfield for a book project, my friend Marshall wrote this poem for me. A Jewish German/Lithuanian-American who was more fortunate than some of his family members who perished during the Holocaust, I am grateful to Marshall for understanding the twisting and turning journey of people's identities through immigration, separation, condemnation, and assimilation.