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Samantha Goodman Dec 2013
Last night I went to a jazz concert
and I bought an eight dollar jar of cocktail nuts
during intermission
from which I only ate
the few wasabi peas I managed to pick out
in the dim of the theater.
I thought about you
and then my thoughts were interrupted
by trumpets and saxophones,
and I wished it could always be that easy.
Bronx Peach Nov 2013
365Nectar #8    Crescent City Blues                      
Tues. Oct 1,2013 10:21 P.M.

In the deepest attic
the thumping blues
paint pastel portraits
of the Crescent City

In burning ripples
words slap strangers
taking refuge in Armstrong Park

Slender, ****, and Shorty
growl muted tones that ravage old bones
whip thru Mid-City
and saunter thru the Garden District
all just practice to sizzle in a wild tap dance in the Quarter

High steppin Indians
march toward God
and defy gravity.

Roaring second line
being led by woman powered Pinettes Brass Band
hold rush hour traffic hostage for days
belting greasy mingling tunes
in the eye of the dusty moon

A pitch black struggle
with the old moon
liberated old souls
entangled in soaked strings
and sobbing fingers

A quintet churns and
challenges the loneliness of pain

Strumming fingers
make out with
humming strings
under a starry blue grey sky

Stomping down long black Oak-lined roads
blowing thru shotgun homes
like winter cold howling
lifting heavy weights
from shoulders
like the sun shifting against bad weather
the blues lady
open the veins
of drunken roses

Lungs full of tears
Irma holla's, cries, and moans remedies
north south east and west of a street called Desire
Oh Etta
At Last

Dim Misty light
cast a heavy shadow
on wiggling spirits
as they cast off pain
Allen Toussaint
in smokeless blaze
tips the night air

Kermit blows
Dusty blues
seducing suffering souls
bounding them to each other in bliss

Whispering around town
in a perfect velvet midnight
sweet exhalations of song birds from corner joints
dance the Ruffin groove

fiery trebles wave at people passing by

Down right ***** blues
muzzles twilight
trombones,tubas, and trumpets
lay harmony
under the harmonious thunder
of the Marsalis Masters
and low down deep
in a musty sleepless corner
is the missing Bass-man..

hung over.

Copyright ©2013  Crescent City Blues
Chocolaty men with sandwich sized lips
Wynton Marsalis playing, swinging, and
moving his hips
Singing Christmas carols in Italy to
large crowds
Getting together with friends to
debate aloud
Going to church to praise and sing
When I go away to do my own thing
Thoughts of true love and romance
The few times I let loose and dance
Long distance calls from abroad
When I run into someone who believes in me
despite my flaws
Just the thought of being kissed tenderly
on my lips
My heart is skipping right now as I write
My eyes are beginning to mist
I have to stop
james nordlund Apr 2020
The great Ellis Marsalis, Jr., died of corona virus in NOLA,
one of a thousand that passed away this Avril Fool's, from it,
all of whom will be missed dearly, "...we(e),..."'ll ever bay.

In his day, near his death, (W.A.) Mozart said to his wife,
"I fear I am writing a requiem for myself", as he composed
'Requiem Mass in D minor- Lacrimosa', of unparalleled beauty.

With rheumatic fever hitting Europe at that time, and soon
after, yellow fever in Philly, here, epidemics and pandemics
became common, the worst, 1918 Spanish Flu, 1/2 a bill dead.

listening to comedy ring hollow, a necessary alternative to
the news that isn't new, my ear longs for his veracious music.
How can USA have the worst response to it among technocracies?

Our king-kong sized terrible-two, ****, playing his keystone
President act for 3 months has determined the repub conspiracy's,
global oligarchy's agenda's yoke tighten around the people's neck.

The stealing of social security from the elderly, infirm, through
Covid-19 exterminating them more than others, this couldn't get
done politcally by the repubs for 2 decades.  As well, the poor

to lower-middle-class, especially people of color, can't afford
to defend themselves usually, now it's worse. "Stimulus bills"?,  
over 1/2 a trill to bail out small, big businesses, pay big Pharma,

medical supplies corps, who're already making hand over fist from
the bidding war between States, federal agencies, dictating Bush,
**** klans who're heavily invested, ever increasing kafknching.

Coastal regions, big cities, mostly dems, are murdered more by
virtue of #, close proximity, needs, ****'s re-election plan.
This while he kept his criminal cuts to SNAP, still stealing food

from mouths of babes and handing it to billionaires.  Same as
it ever was, class war, repubs using jobs they don't do, to mass-
exterminate non-repubs instead.  like the serial murderers who

masquerade as cops, killers ..., as doctors, judges as justices.
The 'big fix' is in, if it ain't fixed don't break it, stop all
criminal insanity, if not you then who, here, where, now, when?

This leaf of poetree, although it just a twig be, may be my last.
If so, I'm honored to pass with such great artists, yet, hopefully
not from skyrocketing price of living.  Social distance, wear mask.
"The sleepers must awaken" (before they're extincted by climate change), movie Dune.  Thanx for all you All do.  Have a great eve'   ;)   reality
He has a life line that runs right across his entire palm
so his grandmother used to tell him he would do great or fail great
( we all fail great if we live long enough and do great if only we can see how stupendous our simple acts of courage and kindness are)
He listens when I am

angry because my ego (my little I, my concept of “me” with all its stories is in full gear) activated dancing circles around my sanity,

sad because I cannot see past the veils of ecstasy and sorrow and peer into reality (where these is no story attached to anything, a pencil is pencil, ) for that moment,

hopeful that the small caterpillar hanging from the tree will survive and enter chrysalis ,

goofy dancing  good bye as the train doors close and he’s off to his home  and when I talk his head off about the albums I have been listening to (most recently everything Branford Marsalis has played on)
at the foot of the mountain and ask that he please be my climbing partner.
                He hikes. He hikes  though the forest in summer with me despite the inevitable  encounter with his arch enemies (the mogi) the mosquitos 🦟

stretching my hand out he reaches for it and we take a long peaceful walk
Dead Calm

Without friction
there is no motion
Without motion
— creation stops

(Dreamsleep: May, 2024)


Abeyance

My pen is searching
for its guitar case
a place to sleep
when the writing’s done

To rest in the dark  
between flowing moments
of what might be coming
— and old verses sung

(Dreamsleep: May, 2024)


Nowhere To Hide

The haunting of our memories
never to escape
No continent wide nor ocean deep
— will shield us from their ****

(Dreamsleep: May, 2024)


Falling Into Silence

For years
I’ve had an old man’s body
Today
an old man’s mind

The past
a memory ever haunting
Tomorrow looming
— in decline

(Listening To Paul Simon: May, 2024)


Shadow Dancing

Making everyday life poetic
doggedness abounds
Separating wheat from chaff
— harder than it sounds

(Dreamsleep: May, 2024)


Again New Orleans

Waking up from a dream
inside another dream
inside another dream
inside another …

(Listening to Wynton Marsalis: May, 2024)

— The End —