Author: Blind John Ellsworth

Blind John Ellsworth (1960- ), a (questionable) poet and sometimes Texas bluesman. He has recorded one spoken-word album (thankfully unreleased), since he is still trying to learn to play guitar. (Lack of musical skills is what makes him a poet and not a lyricist. Plus, he can’t write music.)

uVerse Blues

Thank you for calling AT&T,
Your system’s going up and down I see.
The trouble may be on your end,
Please reboot and try again.

Rebooting didn’t fix the pain?
Perhaps you should reboot again.
We could try to send someone to you
It’s Monday now, would Thursday do?

We replaced the modem you have inside,
So the problem must have moved outside.
We could try to send an outside guy,
How about Sunday – time does fly.

I tried to call to check the line.
It’s down, so you didn’t answer in time.
You’ve moved to the end of the queue.
Eventually, we’ll get to you.

Your phone calls have  all begun to fail,
Your Internet is slower than the US mail,
We’re sure you’ll survive without TV,
And thanks for calling AT&T.

Love @ 31,000 Feet

Editor’s Note: I’m going to start republishing some (very) old works by BJE, as I find them – just so they’re all collected in one place. This is from 1997, so that’s pretty old. Seriously, who remembers Palm Pilots?

Southbound from Chicago
With my baby by my side
She don’t know that she’s my baby
I should tell her – haven’t tried

Flying First while wrapped in love
Is a magical place to be
Free drinks, cashews and pretzels
Yet she still won’t notice me.

We haven’t really spoken
Since the preboard at O’Hare
She’s just sittin’ reading magazines
While pretending not to care.

At last my angel turns to speak
In her heavenly tone of voice…
She asked ‘Is that a Pilot?’
I stammered, ‘But, of course.’

Being a geek finally worked!
Since she has one too, it seems.
Alas, the moment’s already passed
And she’s back to magazines.

Gently touching down in Dallas
will finally end our lover’s game.
Should have nicked her boarding pass
So at least I’d know her name.

Another broken-hearted Friday night
Hailing airport taxis in the rain.
I’ve lost my faith in AAdvantage Gold
Next time, I’ll take the train!

ORD-DFW 16 May 1997 AA 2359 – What was her name, anyway?

Weather

I am trying to understand weather forecasts.
It is difficult, because there are many sources.
Each of them has a slightly different opinion.
Forecasts are really just opinions.

Also, TV weather is different from others.
TV weather is based on viewing area.
TV signals go a lot farther than ZIP codes,
Or even county lines.

So, when the TV weather guy breaks in,
Just as the killer will be unmasked,
Or the million dollar winner is revealed,
Just as the season is building to a climax…

It may be because you are under immediate threat.
It may also be that three farmers and some goats
Are about to get wet in Southern Oklahoma.

Always check the maps,
I suppose,
Is the lesson here.

Douglas Adams once wrote “Don’t Panic.”
I’m pretty sure he was watching TV at the time.
He was probably in London,
And it was storming in Southampton.

It’s 80 miles from London to Southampton,
Which is 128 kilometers in metric.
This would have been much funnier
If it had been 42 in either.

So it goes.

Here is the easy way to check the weather,
Send the dogs out in the yard.

If they come in wet,
(or don’t go out at all)
It’s raining.

If they come in cold and white,
It’s snowing.

If they go out the back,
And come in through the front door,
(Or get stuck on the roof somehow)
You may have a slight tornado.

Now back to our regular programming,
Already in progress.

STROG

Time for us to cross
From New World into Old,
Where waters flow both ways,
And weather is warm yet cold.

Leaving the Atlantic,
Sailing into the Med,
The cruise is almost finished.
At least we’ve been well-fed.

It’s been an Epic journey,
From Florida to Spain.
Time to find our land legs,
There are no hours left to gain.

No, hours to lose.
We’re going Eastbound.
I need a drink.

Go West, Young Man

Someone said (a long time ago),
“Go West, Young Man!”
Words of travel wisdom.
The direction of progress, if you can.

The reason you go West
Is simple as can be.
You gain an hour almost every day,
As you sail across the sea.

Sailing East usually means
You’re looking a bit dour
(If you’re somewhat European)
Plus, you lose a freakin’ hour.

Losing an hour a day sucks.
It’s why people fly over the seas.
Planes are not as romantic as ships,
Just yank that Band-Aid off at once, please.

Diaspora

Thousands of raw acres
of prime South Texas land.
Mesquite, minimal water,
Fossils, fences and sand.

It’s a place to raise cattle,
With horsepower and sweat.
You can become wealthy,
It’s just not how to bet.

From the thousands of acres
Generations sliced off their share.
One ranch became ranches,
But nobody seemed to care.

The pastures were a man’s world,
There were no girls allowed.
There were many disappointments,
Some best not said out loud.

When I first visited the ranch,
It stretched as far as I could see.
Someone said, “That’s nothin’, son”.
“This used to reach to Uvalde.”

One by one, they moved to town,
It’s where they all belonged.
This could have been the King Ranch,
If they could have got along.

Outbound

I’m not that fond of Miami,
But it’s where the ships all live.
They won’t sail up to Dallas,
No matter how much I give.

We’re off to Barcelona,
I’ve never been to Spain.
(But I kinda like the music.)
That song is quite a pain.

See you in a couple weeks,
We’ll be sailing across the sea.
I’ll be thinking of you always.
Don’t have meetings without me!