Saturday, March 13, 2010

Alphabet Coffeehouse, a new song



















"It's wonderful! Thank you for telling me about it! It reminds me very much of the East Village and that day."

– Rebecca Turner, New Jersey singer songwriter, after listening to Alphabet Coffeehouse.


Alphabet Coffeehouse

Lyrics and vocal 
by Mike Marcellino
Music by Tomas Texino


Alphabet Coffeehouse,
“Where can it be?”
Wandering streets,
A to Z
the East Side,
New York City
aimlessly,
late afternoon, after a show.
Red, white and blue
chipped, cracked lettered
no name circle concrete park,
bed of violet flowers
in the middle,
back lit
crimson eyed Susan’s
no name circle concrete park.

Alphabet Coffeehouse,
“Where can it be?”
sundown of existence,
A to Z
the East Side,
New York City,
10th and C.
Only a clue,
whisper,
unknown friend, fellow traveler
searchin’ for the
Alphabet Coffeehouse
9th and C,
‘round the corner from Banjo Jim’s.

“It’s nothing,” the young man replied,
aimlessly.
“Everything is nothing here,” he said again,
“nothing” about
Alphabet Coffeehouse
“Where can it be?”
A to Z,
red, white and blue
no name circle concrete park,
flag pole,
no colors up.

“Everything is nothing here,”
echoed across
the East Side,
New York City’s
middle a projects
brick, white window sills
houses of thirteen stories.

Jump rope,
rapping voices,
rollerblades,
bikes
black and brown
German Sheppard
walkin'
over a freeway
crooked overpass -
bottom of 10th,
East River Park.
Softball diamonds,
a dog like Sally with her master,
cars speeding, either way.

Banjo Jim’s open.
“Listen,”
the LA country girl sings,
Rebecca Turner,
no cover.


Alphabet Coffeehouse, copyright by Mike Marcellino 2009


Photos of Banjo Jim's in East Village, New York City from www.banjojims.com and Rebecca Turner, singer songwriter, from her bio on www.rebeccaturner.net




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3 comments:

  1. "Just round the corner...", that is neat, expressive. Verbs with reverb in verse. Check it out.Find refreshment there. Inexpensive espresso, a haven for the have-nots. In the city that never sleeps, in lit neon writ. Stuttering hobos know the lines like they know the sidewalks. Pilgrims who seek the meaning in meetings, learn the value of words, scratch a living in between below and above. Didn't Moon Dog pass this way? When a cold wind blows down the Hudson, heed the Horn and the Beat.

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  2. thanks for listening/reading, we do appreciate it; ask you friends to have a listen/read!

    - Mike

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