Biography of Jacques Maurice
JACQUES MAURICE of New Orleans worked in the fields of lawn care and food service before making up the name JACK STRANGE for himself in the fiction, poetry, songwriting and recording industries. His books Stranger than Truth, Stories by Jack Strange (2004) and Would-Be Poems (2002) are available at www.lulu.com/jackstrange. Also check out his CDs Still Alone (2000) , Heartbeat (2001) , Ever Laughter (2003) , and Back in New Orleans (2007) at www.soundclick.com/jackstrange.
Jacques Maurice's Works:
Stranger than Truth, Stories by Jack Strange (2004)
Would-Be Poems (2002)
Still Alone (2000)
Ever Laughter (2003)
Back in New Orleans (2007)
Jacques Maurice Poems
Time passes through so many objects and whimsically decays them into nothing now dependable – ashes, for time is the fire.
I fell asleep when the sun came up, and if I ever wake again, it won’t be until night falls and grief calls.
The vision is of poverty – no money to pay the people who let you live even after they consent to give
No idea, no opinion ever struck a duller chord than the lack of any idea or opinion.
The day begins to wear on as suddenly I notice changes in the texture of the earth and air - like a holiday, when you first think
Tonight I was sitting in my easy chair, eating an evening ice cream snack, when it struck me that I was less a man than I was when I had no such chair,
We often sat in her driveway on cold nights when I took her home from dates with my dreams. She nestled up to me
Sometimes the wind doesn’t know where to blow, so it blows upon itself, inflicting violent comfort on fluid molecules, making show of its empty substance,
There’s a sleeping child in the garden, dreaming of an easy life. But something's buzzing around his head
I plead guilty to the goddess of art For doing nothing to promote her cause. Blindly following a foolish heart, I’ve buried myself with my own two paws,
He sat in silence as she talked, but didn’t really hear her. Actually he preferred to walk
The apple rolled slowly down the aisle And stopped at the heel of his boot. He turned and saw its warm red glow, Then stooped to pick up the fruit.
She had him shackled to the wall of the cave After she promised to love him there; But she was shackled so far away, He became despondent and had nothing to say.
She's a regular pigeon with a fancy tail,
And he's an old owl, or a crow that talks.
Now they're together in the very same jail,
Where neither can fly, and there's no room to walk.
No doubt PETA would be displeased
By the cruel entrapment of this mismatched pair.
Owls and crows are happier in trees,
And pigeons belong in the city square.