Kavalier Calm's Crowdsource Inspiration

I'm KC, The People's Bard. I write songs and poems inspired by the people I meet on the internet. Ask, and I’ll write something for you.
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  • I’ve done it again. Searched the tag “question” and found this post from sashdaley:


    sex is the question. Yes is the answer

    Thanks for the inspiration.

         Q & A Blues

    Life is too short to walk around
    all confused and lonesome.
    There’s too much to learn
    to stay in the dark.

    Darlin’, your body’s got a question,
    and mine’s got an answer.
    Just go ahead and ask,
    and I’ll give you all my advice.

    In this instance,
    ignorance is not bliss.
    But I can promise you,
    soon enough you’ll know what bliss is.


    In this you can be my pupil,
    and I’ll be your professor.
    Just put your sweet apple on my desk,
    and I’ll make sure you pass.


    I read the metaphor in hrlaughed's following post my own way and wrote this short song. Thanks are due for the inspiration. For the record, if such a gun existed, I wouldn't mind being shot with it—assuming the right person was holding it.

    If someone said their idea of a great leader was someone who would, “Take out his gun of truth and shoot everybody in the head with it,”


    …How would you respond?

         Loaded gun

    Darlin’, you got a loaded gun,
    and I want you to shoot me with your truth.
    Go ahead and aim your piece
    right between my eyes.

    You’ve got the power to lead,
    and I won’t put up a fight.
    Take me where you want, darlin’.
    I want to be your captive tonight.

    Steady your hand, baby,
    and blow me away.
    I know it will hurt so good
    when you fire upon on me.

    Thanks to a-fiercesome-thing-to-behold for tonight’s inspiration. She asked the question:

    What do you do with old jewelry an exboyfriend gave you?

    Here’s an answer an ex-boyfriend might have, in the form of a song.


    When you left me baby,
    I didn’t even cry.
    But I hope you keep that ring I gave you.
    So a part of me is always by your side.

    We didn’t split on the best of terms,
    but I bought that gold when we were ripe.
    Keep it as a sign of what love can be,
    when love’s done right.

    The pawn shop might give you
    a pretty penny for the loss.
    But a reminder of what good love is
    seems too rare to just toss.


    Maybe we weren’t meant to be,
    but that ring could grow with you.
    It might make you smile
    when you’re old and lonely and blue.

    CHOURS X 2

    Baby, you do what you want with it—
    I wouldn’t Indian give.
    I just hope you choose to keep it
    'cause I'll never forget you
    and the good times we had.

    Today’s inspiration comes from an entire blog I stumbled upon: weliveforjelly-tots. It’s full of beautiful images, many of insightful graffiti. One such post showed the words “wake up and live” in black ink. I ran with it. I bought myself a used Tascam DP-01fx (a digital 8-track); I am clearly still figuring all the features out. Unfortunately, when I master the song, it sounds great with the headphones plugged right into the machine, but when it transfers to the computer there is some quality loss. Still, I’m pretty pleased by this considering I got the machine in the mail yesterday. I recommend listening with headphones. The average laptop speakers will not relay the heavy distortion very well. Enjoy!

         Wake up and live

    It’s never too late
    to find yourself.
    You just got to accept
    you need to be found.

    Wake up and live

    Goin’ through the motions,
    but you might as well be dead.
    Darlin’, why don’t you let me
    get inside your head?

    Wake up and live
    Wake up and live

    You live so careful,
    you’re afraid to breathe.
    Take a chance on life,
    take a chance on me;
    you know, you’ve got
    to gamble to win.

    Wake up and live.

    Tonight’s inspiration is an entire blog: simplybek. I first fell into Bekah’s mind months ago; in fact, hers was the first Tumblr page I really enjoyed. This post is dedicated to Bekah, for her unique style and for sharing beautiful pictures and music. I wrote this song some time ago, but I didn’t get it recorded until today. I’m slowly accepting the limitations of my new Tascam; I asked it to do too much with the last few recordings. The built-in effects are too dirty to be of much value, so with this recording I went back to my minimalistic roots, and just let the grunge come in for the solo. It’s a learning process. Enjoy the tune!

         The kind of trouble I like to get into

    Long days lead to longer nights
    Hours pass in another lonely life.
    And baby, if I’m gonna make it worth a damn,
    I need to make it with you.

    Darlin’, you’re the kind of trouble
    A man could get into.

    Some say, Eli, you’ve got it all.
    A car, a nice home, a steady job.
    But where’s the thrill, I’m feeling chill,
    I need a fever, a lovin’ flu.

    Baby, you’re the kind of trouble
    A man could get into.

    (Let me get into you.)

    Don’t complicate it, darling
    It’s a simple thing.
    You’re on the ground,
    And I could give you wings.
    And up in the air,
    Darlin’, I know we won’t be so blue.

    Baby, you’re the kind of trouble
    I’d like to get into. X 2

    Stumbled (Tumbled?) onto a great blog today: prettybooks. It’s a wonderful concept for a blog, filled with quality reviews of quality books and pictures of people reading. I knew I’d like her style when I read in her bio that she likes the smell of books(!). I sometimes get lost in dusty, forgotten sections of libraries (collections on tax records or government spending, for example) and just breathe. I find it an incredibly sexy smell; it’s the aroma of timelessness. Father Time probably wears a cologne that smells like aging pages and book bindings. Anyway, reading her blog inspired me to write a song about a boy who loves a bookish girl. I realize reading the lyrics now, the speaker is essentially a stalker—but I promise he’s a harmless one! He’s just trying to figure out how to be as exciting as a good book to this girl. Thanks for the inspiration prettybooks! I also want to give a shout-out to these other great book blogs: bookshelves and booklover. Check them out! Free downloads of this song are available here.

         Bookish Girl

    I saw you every day on the bus.
    I hoped you’d notice me,
    but your nose was always in a book.
    One day, I got off at your stop
    and followed you down that city block.
    When you walked in the library,
    I almost turned away;
    books just weren’t for boys like me.

    Do they have a book on you?
    Do they have a book on love?

    Well, I applied for a card,
    just so I could follow you in.
    I traced your steps from reference to fiction.
    Would you believe that for months
    I read every single book you touched?
    I’ve learned a lot—yes, I’ve grown wise—
    but I still don’t know how to tell you
    I wish you were mine.


    Well, bookish girl, you’ve got it all:
    the smarts, the smile, and the beating heart.
    I could be any kind of lover you wish;
    a Dorian Gray, a Rhett Butler, or a Heathcliff.
    Ours could be a novel love,
    like a good book you can’t get enough of.


    Tonight’s post is for the gamer girl at insanelygaming. Mallory’s blog shares wonderful video game images and music, including artsy and funny interpretations of classic gaming themes. Seeing her posts make me remember a not-so-distant past when I feverishly gamed. I smile every time I see an image of Ash Ketchum on her blog. One of my all-time favorite games is the Blue Version of Pokémon for Gameboy. I love that game for the same reason I enjoy a lot of minimalistic music; it is so simple to understand and play, yet profoundly imaginative. I wrote this song today for Mallory because her blog made me remember the good times I had playing that game. When I was a boy, the thought of a girl who played video games seemed more mythological and magical than dragons. So, this song posits a ridiculous way I could get Mallory in my life if I lived in the world of Pokémon, using a Ditto. I think anyone can enjoy this tune, but aficionados of the first-generation Pokémon games will revel in the references (I hope the intro/solo is recognizable). Free downloads of this song can be found here, and you can stream it on YouTube here. — Kavalier Calm


    I’m tired of living a Blue Version life.
    Day after day, everything appears more wild.
    I’m gonna hang up my red cap, and quit the gyms
    'cause I got a plan to fill my life with love again.
    I’m gonna catch me a Ditto and have it read your website.
    And when it transforms into you, I’ll ask it to be my wife.

    Cause I don’t got to catch them all.
    I just got to catch one like you.

    We’ll settle down in Pallet Town, and I’ll build a bird house.
    Pidgeys will come from all around to play in our yard.
    We’ll grow Cut flowers in the garden and go Surf at the beach,
    and we’ll Fish with my Old Rod for Magikarp.
    We’ll go spelunking in caves with our Flash(lights),
    and Dig our escape from all those Zubats.

    On days you don’t feel special, I’ll brew you elixirs
    to restore your PP (and your feelings for me).
    We’ll teach you how to swallow your laughter,
    so you don’t ever return to your true form.
    I’ll finally be a Master of a household.
    You’ll fill every page of my heart’s Pokédex.

    Was struggling to find inspiration via Tumblr this week. So, I tapped into a constant source of inspiration: my lady. This song is for her and anyone in the blogosphere that cares to listen.


    Your hair is more brown than mine,
    and your skin is more soft.
    And your eyes have more light
    even in the dead of night.

    And your body is so divine,
    I wish I was made in your image sometimes.
    And I’m not sure what perfect is,
    but I know you’re closer than I’ll ever be.

    Your lips are more full,
    and your freckles wear their chaos well.
    You speak just above a whisper,
    so everyone bends and aches to hear your words.


    Maybe that pretty curve to your neck
    is from the weight of that halo on your head.
    And you seem to glide right across the ground,
    dancing to music no one else hears.


    Darlin’, you’re so divine to me.
    Sometimes it’s like you fell from the sky
    right into my arms.

    Tonight’s song is about a gypsy, and I devote it to two neo-Bohemian bloggers: bohemian-tea-party and givemeaburger. Both blogs host images of natural beauty that a minimalist like me can’t get enough of. Thanks for the inspiration, ladies, and enjoy the tune!  

         Hadnot Creek

    In the heart of Carolina runs Hadnot Creek,
    home to the Bog Bride:
    half-Southern, half-Gypsy.
    She’ll lure you in with the smells of her cookin’
    and keep you in the girth of her hips.

    By the cool waters of Hadnot Creek
    lips are moving, but they do not speak.
    Don’t accept her charity;
    the hearts of good men is what she seeks.

    They say she’ll dance
    ‘til your eyes blur and close.
    They say she’ll sing
    ‘til your ears become your toes.
    Crawlin’ across the floor,
    crawlin’ into her arms.
    You’ll be found dead and naked
    by the end of the week
    in the muddy bend of Hadnot Creek.


    The Bog Bride’ll end your marriage
    by takin’ life.
    But some of these boys’d rather die by her pleasure
    than stay with their wives.
    But if your love is true and lasting
    pinch your nose and whistle this tune
    as you walk the waters of Hadnot Creek
    where the Bog Bride croons, looms, rooms…


    Tonight’s inspiration comes from Leah at runawaywithmetoneverland. I like her taste in music, and she posts images full of the youthful energy I tap into every time I sit down with my guitar. I definitely want to be a candle that burns twice as bright, even if it means burning half as long. This song deserves a band, especially a drummer; I can imagine what it would sound like in an alternate, cooler universe. Enjoy!

         Hot blooded blues

    Hey sweet lady, listen here:
    I wanna be with you,
    not far but near.
    Let’s go down to the lake,
    just you and me.
    Don’t worry, darlin’,
    this secret I’ll keep.

    Well, I’m hot blooded,
    but you’re treating me cold.
    Darlin’, what do you want?
    'Cause I can get it;
    I’ll kill if I have to.
    No man, machine, or beast
    will keep me from you.

    Don’t call me crazy
    for wanting you.
    You got every man with a mind
    turning blue.
    Others came before,
    but they were cold to the touch.
    Stop fighting darlin’.
    Hush, hush.

    Tonight’s song is about records (and a woman, of course). I first bought a record player a few years ago when I realized that my university’s library had a massive vinyl collection. Records perfectly play to my minimalist heartstrings. Something about seeing the vibrations taking place and the raw graininess gets me every time. When I was writing the lyrics, I browsed these two blog for inspiration: recordporn and thevinylcornerblog. Thanks to both bloggers for the spark. Enjoy!

         Broken record blues

    Keep falling in love with the same girl,
    over and over again.
    Soon as I think I’ve quit her,
    she’s back at my door with a grin.

    Yeah, she loves my diamond—
    Yeah, she love my stylus—
    the style of us is dangerous.

    She always comes beggin’ for money,
    and I can’t say no to her vinyl skin.
    It’s scratched and warped,
    but, damn, it makes music beneath me.


    Well, I’ve been steady with a few girls before,
    nice girls with no flaws.
    But every time she comes around,
    I answer her call.


    Well, she’s unpolished.
    Well, she’s incomplete.
    But she feels so real;
    oh, she can’t be beat.


    Tonight’s post was inspired by the blogger over at amourdemivida. When I found this blog yesterday, I went delving into its archive; it’s full of wonderful images of love and thoughts about love. The blog’s main title is “Amar es un Verbo.” Such a simple statement, but so true. I think sometimes people think of love as some static thing—an object waiting to be found. But really it is an action, something we each have to do, to make. This should be liberating, really, for all those blindly searching, hoping they’ll just stumble upon it one day. They only need to find someone else who’s ready to do the work, take the necessary actions, and live the verb—a much easier task. Thanks for the inspiration and enjoy!

         Love is a verb

    Love is not just a word.
    No, it’s a verb,
    and I want you to act like you want to be in it with me.

    Love is a fuel,
    it make me move.
    And I’d like to move you with it.

    And I refuse to love anyone else but you;
    so, Darlin’, you better start lovin’ me.

    Love is not just a dream.
    No, it’s built on sweat and tears,
    and you aren’t putting in the work that I am.

    Love is not lazy.
    No, it should fill you with a fire.
    And it’s crazy how you’re treating me.


    Love’s not just a thing to throw away.
    No, it’s a treasure chest,
    and it’s time to get into it.

    Plunder, what we got between us,
    and I know you’ll be pleased with
    everything I’ve got to offer.


    Tonight’s song is for Georgia over at Neuewave. I found Georgia’s blog because she made the Tumblr theme for another blog I follow. Oh, the fruits of Tumbl-hopping! At first sight, I immediately liked her blog; it’s full of great images, portrayed in a simplistic style. And then I read about her, and I knew I had to write a song. Her bio says things like, “I have many theories about things but my problem is that I think too much.” Oh, what a wonderful problem to have! (I say this, of course, because I have it, too). And Georgia’s from Glasgow. I spent a few very good months in that city, and every day a part of me wants to go back. In fact, Glasgow is really where I first wrote songs, and I used to play them on Sauchiehall Street for change. So this song is for that city and a cool girl living in it. Thanks for the inspiration, Georgia, and enjoy! — K.C.

         Sauchiehall Street

    Since I moved in with Georgia on Sauchiehall Street,
    my life’s been better, oh, almost complete.
    We have a nice cozy flat to escape the cold,
    and I hope she lets me stay ‘til I am old.
    I make her breakfast in bed, in exchange for a Glaswegian kiss,
    And I’m sad each time it ends,
    and I fall deeper in love.

    Since I moved in with Georgia on Sauchiehall St,
    my life’s been better, oh, almost complete.
    When we’re bored, we ride the clockwork orange
    in circles around the city.
    And at dusk, we go to the Necropolis,
    and I take pictures of her laughing at death.
    Seeing her like this, I feel so alive,
    and I fall deeper in love.

    Since I moved in with Georgia on Sauchiehall Street,
    my life’s been better, oh, almost complete.
    We dance at the Art School
    after Irn-Bru and vodkas
    have cured my two left feet.
    And on Mondays I take her to Nice n’ Sleazy
    and sing this song at the top of my lungs,
    and she acts like she’s too cool to be embarrassed,
    and falls deeper in love.

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