While My Guitar Gently Sleeps
boogie woogie is on my mind
my toe tapping a thousand times
slapping snare and top hat crash
back to sleep dreamy night fade away
is it a festival of jazz marching by
raz-ma-taz New Orleans style
clarinet and trumpet and tuba blow
blind melon singing do-dah do-dah-day
Latin fever makes me thrash
trying to remember the tricky steps
the cha-cha of the island girls
watching how the shapely hips sway
Spanish marimba mambo twist
taps clacking as the flamenco flies
big box acoustic cat gut strings
fingers twitching wanting to play
square dance cowgirls and dudes strut
thumbs in their pockets stomping boots
fiddles and steel race through my heart
gonna do it all do it all someday
roll over and change the world another day
dreamy night fade away once again
screaming guitars in triple tones
while my guitar gently sleeps away
I been seen it coming
I hope You seen it too...
No where will be safe for running....
when the horns blow for you...
See I've been in this life captured,
And soon I will be raptured,
at any time any Day...
Now Where will you be when the clouds open wide....
What season is it? ask the midwestern pride...
See I told you before Pray...
Each and Everyday..
Because You never know,
When its your time to go...
Could be violence, illness, weather, or Just the time...
I just pray your soul was saved in time...
nobody's perfect, nobody's perfect baby...but would you believe me if I said I'm in love...I dare you to say it...mean it...Would you believe me if I said Im in Love...With Jesus, He saved me He'll save you!!...
But Thats not my religion...
thats just my relation,
that have with the man that owns all of creation...
See He told us about the signs..
There right in front of Us...
Just look at times....
We don't know when but he's warning U.S...........
You could just pray,
for Boston or Oklahoma or You could #PrayEveryDay
If I have a short fuse
then you are a lighter,
setting me off
and watching me sizzle and spark
while you flicker out as if nothing happened.
Staring at me with your butane smile as I blow up,
and I can only infect everything around me with my flames.
It’s hardly fair, when you’re the one that started it,
that I get blamed when the village is on fire and I’m shaking in the center,
wishing someone would throw a bucket of water on me.
Yes I may be the monster here
but I am your creation,
a product of your antagonizing heat that hides
the fiery Frankenstein that you really are.
Is it summer or is it spring will it rain or
Will the sun continue to kiss my long torso and petit feet?
Storms always seem to blow over in the Midwest as a dog bounces right past me, gives me a look and goes completely, merrily on his way. He doesn't seem to concerned about the weather.
Nor, should I be. I am going to stay put and ignore the neighbor. He's dying to talk to me and I won't even lift my head to see the noise he makes in hope of a turn
He'll never receive the bone he is looking for, this dog on a mission his fur all damp and wet from a swim. His ears floppy and tail short if he comes by again and gives me a wink, I'll know the coast is clear from whatever task is complete.
My book is in the car which isn't terribly far but to leave my seat and get on my feet seems like such a chore when the wind is blowing my hair and my green tea can cold a pack of cigs and I think I'm already gold. The book can wait, it's taking a twist Maria doesn't seemed too concerned about her lovers death but consumed by the clandestine love affairs when all the glares she thought were hers were now shared with a shoebox full of letters, cards and daring pictures along aside gift cigars.
The lake is calm, I'm happy I'm here rather than the busy streets which take its toll, always on the go but instead I can kick back and watch the hands on my wrist tick on by if I'd like, there is no one stopping me, no one to fight. I should look for a job but maybe in the fall, asleep out in the sunshine to clear my wandering head. No sign of rain the clouds have gone. I'll just listen for the neighbor kids to pet Lou and Ill follow his lead and be a team player to see my mission through of fetching my book.
It was many springs ago
That she'd light up my path
But what hurts deeper still
Is how many glaciers
Will melt away and then
How many fading stars
Will go icy cold and end
And how long Creator
Oh tell me how long
The aeons will drag so slow
How many harsh winds will blow
Before she lights my way again
Treasury Casino, 3:03 am. Monday morning.
Casino bars shut at 3:00 am in QLD.
I missed a place to sleep by 9 minutes.
My timing is impeccable.
2 hours to kill until the last train home.
An older man in a slate suit enters stage right.
Reenters stage left with brass buttons
lit up like embers.
The 9 network wants me to buy
stonedine frying pans.
And warns me about harmful gasses that have killed household budgies.
I wish I was more interesting.
You havent lived
until you've seen a man blow a pancake
off a frying pan.
Onto a plate.
Late night bar personnel work in silence
cleaning beer nozzles and coffee machines.
They wander in and out of the scene under sophisticated lighting.
I wonder what to do about you, and what I'm feeling.
What our hold on each other is and when (if) the sword of Damocles will fall.
Is this truly tragedy to which we are destined?
I shudder to think.
And for this am I classed by the title
3:20 am - Existentialism strikes a vicious blow. No coup de grace.
The blackjack dealer on the $15 table has a gorgeous face that makes me wonder how her body feels on a post coital morning. Satisfied and relaxed, taut through anticipation of further pleasure?
Straight raven tresses frame a heart shaped face that peers over the ridge of a white collared shirt, sprouting from beneath a black vest, tight at the elbows.
She deals with deft machine-gun efficiency. Not all bullets hit their mark here.
Her back curves with natural elegance down to a tight, young ass. The shape of it magnified by the black business pants writes itself as a factory on my mind. Light hands would fit well there, one on each cheek, her mouth open seductively, trading tastes and sensations.
There is a dying rose in my lapel.
I contemplate leaving it somewhere poetic but cant think of a place.
The thorns are still sharp.
The only place where time is invincible
is a place where it is hidden.
Casino's are such a place.
Here time cannot be killed.
Yet I have smuggled it in.
Part 1: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/brisbane-street-sketch-1/
Part 2: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/brisbane-street-sketch-2/
Part 4: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/brisbane-street-sketch-4/
Part 5: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/brisbane-street-sketch-5/
What are we but mere winds that blow where the gods whim,
A vessel for their favor and wrath.
If I should walk two steps and stumble,
maybe fate was delaying my death.
I took destiny by the scruff of his neck and bowed him to my will.
As master, I decide which road to take,
One least used by the gods mortal hands.
I will not relinquish my puppet strings to the immortals.
head kept low
Axe fell disrupting years of Earth's work
pulling uh'way the weeds
flattening and conforming the dirt 'round
man's grape vine
Order n' Control
Rocks, grass, and bugs removed
all in place for man's green grapes
alone in the yards
there be peace in the Order
The Order of the Man's Vines
Blow for blow the ground gave through
plants grew - none but I knew
that besides grapes none but dust would pull through
Destruction gave Order
Order gave peace
peace gave tomorrow
tomorrow plants the seeds of opportunity
and the dust amongst the dew
Look'd to the sky above
head look'd 'round
settlements reminded I of the weeds
to the sky's yard
And the yards reminded I that we aren't but
dust among the dew
in Life's Order of the Vines
Sorrows of the past,
litte scatters think out fast.
I really am a rapper,
my lips blow out what matter,
happy make you sadder,
feal you up to climb this latter,
as a quick word just wanna be heard
know whats left so we take you down the right turn,
if you wanna talk shit I feal ya on a real burn,
If you gonna be true,
you sure gonna be seen through.
don't believe free?
what ever go deceive me,.
young at heart with that tid of stupity,
bein flung takin risks, Makin tunes tradin disks.
hear my bass nd my boom melted face is in the room,
Mmmm...!! Shiiiit ;)
I am the vacant sea,
Bereft of sentimentality apparently,
Gallantly, I uncannily resemble,
An assembly of mistreated heroes,
And a villain or two;
I am a wave at its lowest ebb,
Further now from the shore,
Furthermore from the door,
Of the love I want to blow,
Obsolete, I’m Pac-man in the penny arcade,
Ms. Pac-man’s fucked off for days,
Or months or years; or was she ever even here.
Always holed up in my cave,
Staring at the razor blade,
Waiting for divine intervention,
Some totalitarian convention,
To drag me away;
No cares, this lust,
This pushed me over the edge,
Through the hedge- funded by my
Need for mediocrity; indemnity,
Insatiable, eternally caught far,
From what I seek;
Could anyone love a Devil like me?
Going on a diet of bread and water,
Lamb to the slaughter,
So that someone’s daughter,
Might love a creature this bleak