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Betty Nov 2020
Fingers of fire
Flaming desire
Flirting with strings
Melted angel wings
Acoustic profanity
Electric insanity
Liquid bricks in your heart
Tearing you apart
A nuclear star
Now that is the sound of a proper guitar!
Nothing quite like it
Khoi Jan 2020
Spritely lights
youth has risen
groovy nights without prisons
gypsy dances
peace tattoos
freedoms flock
long live
Jimi and Janice


Janis Joplin
19 - 01 - 43
04 - 10 - 70
Jimi Hendrix
27 - 11 - 42
18 - 09 - 70
Steelyvibe Jun 2018
In the dark a crowd had gathered
And all the stars were there
The hacks were writing history
The girls just stood and stared
A trio of shadows arose
But my eyes could not gauge
Till a six string crucifix
Was rising from the stage
Then the air was cut with music
Rhythmic demons from his gaze
Voltage dreams and electric themes
It was Hendrix purple haze

He took the fret board higher
And made the distortion sing
Fingers moved like lightening
Picking across the strings
We thought he was a vision
A remnant of the past
A journey back from voodoo
Enlightenment that couldn't last
His face was lit with colors
And songs a cryptic maze
He gave us soul and made us whole
It was Hendrix purple haze

The night went on for ever
Burning the scratch plate
If I don't see you in this world
In the next don't be late
Is this the electric lady land
Slight return of voodoo chile
Meeting of a vibrant soul
The resurrection of his smile
The show eventually comes to an end
The stars turn into rays
Forgotten tear, he was never here
It was Hendrix purple haze
Martin Bailes Apr 2017
"I don't care ...
I don't care ..."

Well I would to be honest ...

I'd miss them those long-hairs
with their bongos, flowers &
hula hoops, long skirts, velvet
jackets, bells & sweet scented ****
& smiles & trying just to be happy
& leaving you all behind with your
exploitation & misery & wars & death
& sullen brown slow decay,

I would care,

"if all the hippies
cut of  
all their hair"

I would.

Hendrix lives ... by sweet Jesus yes he does!
Martin Bailes Mar 2017
Jimi moans and wails,
the door crashes
as dad arrives
all anger
& growls,

I look up
all a might stunned
beneath the grinning
& rolling,

oh dad
you made it,
& I love you

my eyes
like dark voids ...

his face ...
for all the youngsters among you found joy tripping out to Jimi in their bedrooms many years ago.
Martin Narrod Jan 2016
nothing is trite, nothing is optional
waited and waited and to the heavens
no prying notion, not even a fear escapes
the mind's tricks or worry that phrases
could be repetitive-

exuding the forces of the world
legs and arms and eyes and mind
there are not dactyls to measure
such words, when the words do not
yet exist.

There is no unfinished ends that need soldering,
I sent the letters in my last life. The one where upon me
You crept up and looked at the chasm and held the rocks
From my pockets in your hands, and took off my robe.
I don't even know how long I'd been staring into the deep
Insanities of The Plateau, counting sheep, and hedging bets,
Slowly going completely into the Pacific, rising and bowing
Inside the blooming ripples of those fourteen foot waves that
Never made the break wall. Maybe it was I colliding with
Those enormous ships of victory I envied that bore the flags of
China and tore away from the coastline.

I don't care what you say, I believe it was you calling.
Beethoven could have heard the call.
In fact, he did. It's the odes of joy.
Don't get hung up on improper word use,
There will be time for us to write each other's sentences,
Build one another's dictionaries, and bend who's and what's, where's,
How's, and why's.

What azurean universe lives in the cornucopia of pulchritudinous lumens
That shape your eyes? What language is it that spoke its creation? Teach Me the languages that breed the shaky and vibrant voices of rock and roll.
The ridges inside the tide that bring the sea life to live. I will, I will hunt Dinosaurs and Guitarasaurus Rex will hang its Ray Ban wearing head of Enormous proportions out of the deciduous treeline to dazzle us with
The gorgeousness of delta blues rock and pre-Cretaceous 50s icon pop
While we slide on the wooden floors having our sock hop.

Seussing us up into a pinwheel of onomatopoeia
And nightscape of stardust, song, and merriment.
The beginning of a memoir, the counting back of hours like
Driving with the Ferrari California's gears in reverse to shed
Off the extra mileage, or swim in salt water pools, and drink
Pink and orange aeviternal eves and the groves of lavender, lilac, and Streaming cerise bands of light entomb these two lovers in the Mesmerizing drove of morning, upon some moon-draped porch
Some Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday in
Satirical snow-covered and 50º Chicago.

Say I can play guitar and I can play guitar
But only when we're teaching we,
Sunday thru the ends of years
And the offspring of those years.
Back from the hours, unlocked by the tides, and
Hemmed to the interstices of fingertips and
Internal yearnings for olives and olive juices.
Eves, morns, and the 33 hour day.
Where in your enchanting cadence of life
All is well, extending beyond good and beyond okay:
excelsior. Since our bonds coalesced just this past Sunday.

For Saranell
Sunday firstwords words language passion time infinite godlike hendrix girlboy chicago amour passion
ConnectHook Sep 2015

GNOSIS, my friends, is alive and well,
corrupting the hearts of the masses.
They fashion a fable to fit their need until their crisis passes.
An idol from here and a text from there – just a little dabble do…
for a do-it-yourself epiphany as the counterfeit passes through.
They lose themselves in names and mantras,
thinking they’re mining gold –
while the god of this world enhances the shine of spiritual lies retold.
So get out your old Santana records, pass the **** to the left.
Listen to Jimi and Marley and worse; it will leave your soul bereft.
It’s the same old trip – the first century
has seen all of it come and go:
such transcendent explosions of heresy
are worth less than the price of the show.
In the local body of Iesous Moshiach our pastor has faithfully showed us:
nonsensical notions of Gnostic obnoxiousness
fail to enlighten – but load us
with half-truths and fantasies, cosmic conspiracies,
spiritually false revelation;
which turn on the blacklight and dazzle the mind
but maroon you in dark desolation.
So I’d like to prepare you for several short poems
exploring the way of the Gnostics.
Though I love Elaine Pagels and
Demian**‘s Hesse,
they fail to provide diagnostics…

Mara Feb 2015
"Manic depression..." you sing and I can't bear the idea of you not being happy. I would give my life for you to keep smiling and one day I hope you can realize how much I think I loved you. You made me want to be a better person and I'll happily commit myself to a God if you told me there was something in it I haven't seen. But I know you wouldn't, I know you would look forward to me making my own decisions. That's what makes you lovely. You would support me and my idiotic ideas, saying we could conquer the world after breakfast. "I know what I want, but i just don't know..." I could climb the highest mountain if you told me you would still be here when I came down. Thank you so much, thank you for understanding my ****** train of thought. "Manic depression is catching my soul..."
If one day you can realize all the light you gave to my world, I hope you could let me know regardless whether I was in heaven or hell.
Remember, dancing with the devil
In life will take it's toll
For, dancing with the devil
In the end will take your soul
Many who have done it
Reached the top only to die
Many souls we thought in heaven
Could never get that high

The Forever 27 club
playing in the band
Janis, Jim and Jimi
In hell, oh....ain't it grand
We thought them all as angels
But, the truth it rings a bell
They were dancing with the devil
And they ended up in hell

Cobain and Amy Winehouse
Oh yeah, they're down there too
Brian Jones and others
Playing hard rock and the blues
Sell your soul to Satan
Where you do not choose
If you spend time with the devil
It's nothing but bad news

Remember, dancing with the devil
In life will take it's toll
For, dancing with the devil
In the end will take your soul
Many who have done it
Reached the top only to die
Many souls we thought in heaven
Could never get that high

There's others there who did the dance
Hit the crossroads, sold their soul
Drugs and drink and suicide
That's how this devil rolls
Some may get redemption
For the things they do in life
they sold out with their talent
They were dancing on a knife

The band is hot, and so's the place
They play here every night
We wish they were in heaven
But, deep down you know I'm right
Elvis, yes, the king is here
He did drugs and did the dance
Now, he's singing for the devil
He never had a chance

Remember, dancing with the devil
In life will take it's toll
For, dancing with the devil
In the end will take your soul
Many who have done it
Reached the top only to die
Many souls we thought in heaven
Could never get that high

So many tortured people
So many who did wrong
They traded with the devil
For the price of just a song
Rock and Roll in heaven
Has a great band, just the same
But, with Janis, Jim and Jimi here
They just don't have the game.
rock and roll
Stefan Smith Dec 2014
Jimi Hendrix was your favorite band,
So I wanted to be able to connect with you.
I obsessed my time to understand,
The same knowledge of him you knew.

Every time i listened to Hendrix
I tried to think the thoughts you thought;
An attempt to connect with your senses
With the same joy to you he brought.

He always kept his guitar on rhythm
Like a heart beat's pulse.
Is it this that gave you peace within,
To make the problems seem false?

But you were overtaken by temptation
Before I could get to know you better.
Death disguised through a drug's sensation.
Now i listen to Hendrix like you wrote me a letter.

I hear the life that was exposed
Through the plucking of his string
When he produced what he composed,
When sang what he would sing.

I close my eyes and picture you, dad;
What you would look like.
The rare moment you'd be glad,
When your elation would take flight.

I love Hendrix because i love you, dad;
And i wish you could know that.
I don't judge you for going mad,
I just listen to Hendrix because you'd love that.
                                     ­         And read your letter.
Letter to my dad.
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