Avi Vinocur :: Journal

POETRY

Lou Gehrig's Last Game
Will there be any baseball, when this game is over?
Will the flood-lights shine down onto the field?
Will we ever see Lou Gehrig, once he folds his uniform?
Will our hearts or our hero be healed?

"I can't hit, I can't field," he tearfully replied.
"They don't need me out there at all."

Will our Iron Horse be back, when we face Detroit tomorrow?
Will he run to first unshackled from his pain?
Will our Yankees and our country ever find a true replacement?
Will our pastime have humility again?

"Dahlgren's in, Gehrig's out," The New York Times Reports,
"The Iron Horse has called it quits today."

Will that microphone be sending what we really want to hear or
Will Number 4 look a sad and faded star?
Will his words serve to fortify the pillars of our grandstand or
Will they tear down every man on every subway car?

"I might have had a bad break," he cried into the Bronx,
"But I have an awful lot to live for."

Will these records all get broken? Will our heroes leave the books?
Will the newer feats be greater than the old?
In a time when baseball stands for something deeper to a nation,
Lou Gehrig stands for something deeper to baseball.

By Avi Vinocur - 29 October, 2007 -12:00am - San Francisco, CA
Lou Gerhig's life story makes me cry everytime I hear it. What an incredible human being - so humble. The sport he loved, and his body itself, was torn from him and he still felt that he "had an awful lot to live for." Baseball was never the same sport once he retired. I heard the phrase "Will there be any baseball when this game is over?" and Lou Gehrig's final game, against the Senators on April 30, 1939, immediately came to mind. He died only 2 years later at 37 years old from Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. His story changed my life.

When The Earth Fades Deep Into Black
We don’t mean a thing in the end
No we don’t mean a thing in the end
All we are is molecules that sift into the sands
No we don’t mean a thing in the end

The earth will steadily decay
To the nothingness from which we came we’ll fade away
Every pope and royal fam’ly won’t mean anymore than you
When the earth in the end fades away

All the money and celebrity won’t matter in the least
All religions will be seen for what they are
Every word the Beatles sang will be as silent as this song
When the earth fades deep into the black

We don’t even matter to the world
We’re just another species being twirled
All we are is squandering the beauty of her love
So we don’t even matter to the world

The universe will always carry on
Long after the earth is departed dead and gone
We are just a pencil mark behind a perfect work of art
Yea the universe will always carry on

Every constitution will be void of purpose
All inventions will be useless evermore
Every line by Ernest Hemingway will be equal to my poem
When the earth fades deep into the black

We don’t mean a thing in the end
We are only people in the end
We just have each other in the time that we are here
We won’t mean a thing in the end

Not a whisper will resound of the history we built
No moon will move the tides that don’t exist
24/7 and 9/11 will be arbitrary numbers
When the earth finds it isn’t even missed

By Avi Vinocur - 22 Sept, 2007 San Francisco, CA
The Earth will inevitably end, and what will all our fears and faults mean then?
All of the acheivements of human kind will mean no more than a moonrock.

My Weakness is a Girl Who Can Sing
You could hold my hand walking, you could compliment me
You could kiss me on a wharf overlooking the sea
You could have a posh handbag, and drive a nice car
But they all hardly stand for a thing
My weakness is a girl who can sing

You could be low maintenance and down to earth
You could have a great accent from London or Perth
You could be the daughter of a king or a queen
But you’ll never get my heart on a string
Cause I really want a girl who can sing

You could be a non-smoker who cares about health
You could have the best authors adorning your shelf
You could master desire with one little look
Yea you might be a summertime fling
But you’ll lose me to a girl who can sing

You could take me to dinner and hopelessly flirt
You could pin me on a mattress and undo my shirt
You could strip off your clothes to an R&B song
And I’m not saying I would refuse
But in the end it’s a singer I’ll choose

To look in your eyes while you sing me a song
Or to play my guitar while we both sing along
Can have the power to spin me around
And I don’t believe in love at first sight
But I do believe in love at first sound

By Avi Vinocur - 30 July, 2007 New York, NY on the "Burly Old Couch" in my buddy Eric's place in the East Village.
Written for... someone.

The World's Ending and I've Got a New Pair of Shoes (One Dollar Bill)
I found a dollar on the ground today and paused to hear what it really had to say. Some would think that’s a little bizarre, but listen.

He said, “I am the product of capitalism and I’m proud to be part of a wonderful system but some days I’m ashamed to say that I’m from here.”

“The U-S and A, son.
We used to be great, son.”

“I may be nothing but a filthy dollar but I could be spent on a research scholar and possibly help to find a cure for something.”

“Or I could help a New Orleans family, or help to run a car electrically,
but I’d rather be on the ground than in the hands of Washington.”

“I’ll go to the war, son.
Another year-long tour, son.
They’re all double-faced, son.
Don’t put me to waste, son,
or we’ll all be erased, son.”

Now it’s understood that the world is shifting, the tides are rising and our boat is drifting the bees and polar bears know our days are numbered.

Cause the cars are polluting with bigger emissions and the wars are all fought with bigger weapons. Soon enough we’ll all be under the water.

Wishing that we did something
while we still had something.

I spent the dollar that I found today on a pair of shoes that I put on right away
and took an emissions-free walk around the neighborhood.

I tried to do something to save the planet but if nobody’s with me you can crumple and can it.

Whether it’s a bomb
or a lack of oxygen,
a flood, desert storm,
killer swarm, or global warm,

when the world ends
at least I can run away from it
a little more comfortably
in my new pair of shoes.

By Avi Vinocur - 18 June, 2007 Los Angeles, CA
I had just seen "An Inconvenient Truth" and started reading more about Global Warming.

A Glass of Wine at Noon.
I want to have a glass of wine at noon.
It tastes no different underneath the moon.
Most ask for a Sprite,
and then wait till the night,
But me I want a glass of wine at noon.

I want to have a glass of wine at noon.
Connoisseurs think that is much too soon.
“If it isn’t with a dinner,
you’re a drunkard and a sinner!”
But I still want a glass of wine at noon.

I want to have a glass of wine at noon.
But they look at me like I am a buffoon
You drink water in the sun,
while I have much more fun,
I’d rather have a glass of wine at noon.

I want to have a glass of wine at noon.
It puts me in the mood to hum a tune.
The proper people stare,
but I frankly do not care,
Because I had a glass of wine at noon.

By Avi Vinocur - 7 May, 2007 -10:00pm - Madrid, Spain
Frustrated with the cultural differences between European life and American.

So Few Words At All.
Virginia ‘neath your consecrated soil we place a man
Who’s aged body hoped but failed to set foot in Japan
He died between your summer and your fall
And he said so much with so few words at all

Stern as stone and coarse as sand with eyes to melt your heart
Skin of leather, hands as warm as Monet’s finest art
Towards the end his days began to crawl
But he said so much with so few words at all

Throughout my life he bought me things of which I paid no mind
Recently I found a box of books with covers signed
I’ve been alone all week with every book that I retrieved
Turns out he used a lot more words than I believed

By Avi Vinocur - 6 Mar. 2007; Madrid, Spain; 2:45am
Written of a fear of losing my grandfather, and wishing I that would be able to sit and talk with him once he's passed, but realizing that through the books he gave me that I never read, I can keep hearing what he wants to tell me.

Kelly, Come Back to California
Oh Kelly, come back to California
Oh Kelly, come back to California
Cause the sun is not as bright
And I’m lonely in the night
Oh Kelly, come back to California

Every morning sunbeam cast barely ‘bove the High Sierra’s
Makes me wish that you were here to see it
And as quickly as the day began,
The sun is heading for Japan
The night is dark and only you complete it

Every wave that almost reaches lifeguard towers on the beaches
Makes me wish that you were here in sandals
And we’d roll our jeans up to our knees
Get chased by waves and evening breeze
Until the sunset flickered out like 100,000 candles

Every time I drive the endless highways ‘round LA at night
I wish that I could have you riding shotgun
And picking where to stop and eat
Is a task we never could complete
Cause being indecisive’s much more fun

You and I would read the LA Times to criticize our leaders
Way out West we don’t support the war
Cause things are better on the left
With Coastlines and with Presidents
So Kelly come back home I cannot take it anymore

Oh Kelly, come back to California
Oh Kelly, come back to California
Because the ocean's not as blue
And I always think of you
Oh Kelly, come back to California

1-2-07 ; North Hollywood, CA
Written from the heart, always.

And So It Goes...
My mind spins like a disc
Worry eats at my skin
I think about all the parts
Of the road that I’m on
And wonder how it could have been

If I had chosen something different
Or made decisions more concrete
If I had saved all the changes
And backed up my files
Before hitting delete

If I had stopped in for service
Before I drove to Spokane
I may have found myself in Washington
Instead of in the front seat
Of a tow truck in Cheyenne

If NYU didn’t reject me
Would I be a Yankee’s Fan?
If I hadn’t gone to synagogue
And rather been a Christian
Would I vote Republican?

If I had broken the rules
Instead of doing what told
I may have gotten into trouble
But my stories would be better
When I’m 70 years old

If I had called you once more
And expressed all my love
Could we be sitting in a hammock
In New England in the sunset
While the leaves fall from above

I really hope you’re doing well
And that he’s treating you right
I hope he whisks you off to Paris
Like we used to say we would
In the middle of the night

And of all my mistakes
It is you that I miss
On this rainy April evening
Oh I wish I didn’t love to
But of you I reminisce

And so it goes…
There’s no changing it now...

12/15/06 San Francisco, CA
Things can't be changed, but what if?

Dearest Sarah
Dearest Sarah I’m compelled to write with aching fearful hands
Just incase I never make it back
I left our family weeks ago for battle stricken lands
And fear I wont survive the next attack

I fled Rhode Island willingly to join the Union force
Understanding I may never know my boys
But this Country’s strength of Government is in a great divorce
For this I risk my life and all its joys

Dear Sarah I do understand within my sacrifice
Goes nearly every joy for you as well
I hope you sense within my words I thought about it twice
But our nation casts a thick momentous spell

Sarah start a life without me
Raise our boys to gentlemen
Thrive until the day you pass away and we can meet again
Understand my inner fight
I didn’t choose the war
I sided with Democracy - Yes, that is what I’m dying for!
Oh Sarah, but my love for you is deathless
Oh Sarah, my love for you is deathless

Growing up without my father was torture to my brain
I dread this makes my children dance that waltz
And I’m sure at times your trust was breached and your love for me did wane
But I ask you to forgive me for these faults

I cant express the irony of the peaceful summer breeze
Dusting my battalion as they rest
Within this evening’s warmness lies a dark and icy freeze
That whispered me to send you this request

I’m one of hundred thousand paying all that we can pay
Standing for an object we can’t see
Now, raise our children proudly to be gracious for each day
And let them know the reasons they are free

If true those parted drift unseen around the loves they had
Then I will be the wind upon your cheek
And the darkest moments in your life will never be so bad
Cause I will be your strength when you are weak

10-10-06; San Francisco, CA; 4:30am (Class at 8:00am)
A love letter from Sullivan Ballou to his wife Sarah in the summer of 1861 inspired this. Read it here: MY VERY DEAR SARAH.

When Life is Good Don’t Question It
We’re rolling down streets of cobblestone,
with a coffee and the morning news.
You ask me with curiosity,
“If you could be anywhere where would you choose?”

“I don’t know, but I like it here.”

I took a nap on your shoulder,
and I didn’t even know you through and through.
You woke me up with an inquisition,
“If you fell in love who would catch you?”

“I don’t know, but I like you.”

My ears fill up with the sounds of music,
and I can’t help but sing along.
You cup your hand to ask me something,
“What would you pick if you could change this song?”

“I don’t know, but I like this.”

The sun is gone but our path is lit,
a neon advertisement will guide us home.
And you turn to me to pose a question,
“If you could have anything what would you own?”

“I don’t know, but I’m happy.”

We lie beneath a cloak of darkness
and we talk about how our puzzles fit
I hold your mouth closed with my index finger
“When life is good, don’t question it.”

“When life is good, don’t question it.”

April 30, 2005; Cambridge, MA / May 22, 2005; Manhattan Beach, CA
(The recording: vocals and guitars were recorded on May 27, 2005, and the
drums were added almost a year later on April 20, 2006)

I Still Don’t Understand
I’ve burned the midnight candle many times
Lost amidst the English of the worlds greatest books
And when I reached each final paragraph
I could see why it’s encouraged that you to take a deeper look
But I still don’t understand what I’m doing here
I still don’t understand

I’ve listened with the lights off on headphones
To the most important albums in the world’s catalogue
And all the music critics have a point
Their brilliance kept our love of arts from fading in the fog
But I still don’t understand what I’m doing here
I still don’t understand

I’ve shaken hands with men from all the world
From the richest child to the poorest elder and all in between
And each hand showed me just a little more
That the average Joe is just the same as every king and queen
But I still don’t understand what I’m doing here
I still don’t understand

I’ve found my way through foreign city streets
And peered over the tallest cliffs to the infinite abyss
I’ve been ten thousand miles away from home
And I see why people told me ‘you don’t know what you’ll miss’
But I still don’t understand what I’m doing here
I still don’t understand

I’ve never stood face to face with disaster
And I’ve never had to watch my house disintegrate in flames
I’ve never had to pick up all the pieces
And reinvent a place called ‘home’ with nothing but a name
I’ve never been the victim of disease
Or lived in hospitals feeling like ‘God made me defective’
I guess that you could say that I’ve been lucky
But going through the agony might put life in perspective
But I still don’t understand
And now I hope I never understand

Jan. 2006 San Francisco, CA
Written in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.

More will be posted here later!!!

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