rob kistner Jun 20

memphis red
no longer is

gray now shines
from a balding head
filled with scarlet embers

memories still burn

a fired spirit
too deep
for coddled mortals
to fully fathom

red is real

red is legend

his tales of pain
of injustice
the lore of the big muddy

his eyes
earthy brown
turbulent as that river

his stare
a deep current
impossible to escape

swept away

his voice
a tempered edge
honed by blues

broadleaf husky
thick as sorghum
as beale street bourbon

the cf martin
swings from a leathered neck

on a tattered strap
stretched and shaped
by the heft of sorrow
poured into the soundhole

marked and scarred
by years of burden
of witness

its character and patina
bear testament
to a genuine soul

cracked and seasoned hands
reach with suffered care
to wrap the fingerboard
in love

callused digits
yellowed by habit
depress taut strands
no longer catgut

sculpting emotions

blood and bone

true life
ensnared in sitka spruce
and spiraled steel

knowing strains rise

chords of loss
rhythmic stomp
stinging verse
tinged in triumph

of broken promise
failed love

of dirt field
cruel street
back alley

of harsh wisdom
enduring hope

to fill this space

to break my heart
to steal my soul

swept away


rob kistner © 2007
(revised 2018)
This is a tribute to celebrate every genuine bluesman, whose life of hardship, spirit, suffering, joy, and sorrow, were honed and carved into their soul,
to craft masterworks of musical storytelling that will forever capture
a people, a time, and a way of life that are deep roots of America.
Who are you in the morning
The one who lifts the feet off your child
And vise grips the broken, bludgeons the weak
You no longer make me shiver in fright
I see through your cowardice with shame
That a young boy would fall to his knees
At the noise of a dog with no bone to chew
Cradled by the nape and dug into the heels of
A story not ever cared of being mentioned
I’m the one to lose and sulk my days away
But you, whose words are lackluster and feeble
Carry the weight of two
That know so little to their own good
Dry as the scab from which you inflicted
I am born to be the delight of all good
The Atlas that carries the weight of your mistakes
And when all is said and done
The night will weave into my body
Making the brain addled boy
Dream a good little dream
PoserPersona Apr 27
Loquacious hypocrite,
to your own misery.
Criticize internally

Obsequious narcissist,
to your own false idol.
No love to be found there

You can’t beguile us
For the swirling voices,
no longer bask in our glow
Daisy Rae Feb 17
We want to succeed
So we triump when others fail
Meera Feb 15
An angel of light
With dark wings
Wanderings in catacombs
Flying through springs
Tied to hell
With golden strings
A siren she is
Her beauty stings
Luring emperors
Temptings kings
Like a triumphant song
The Satan sings
Her lyrics echo
Her music rings
Soulace Jan 31
"I'm afraid to lose you"

                                     But isn't that what love is?

Isn't love standing on the edge of a canyon, overlooking the beauty that is below?

Running the length of a battlefield, amidst the bullets whirling, and the cannon fire, knowing you could at any moment lose everything?

Isn't love ultimately driving the edge of loss to the edge?
Playing with fire? Juggling knives? Self operated open heart surgery?

                            Isn't that what makes love so special?
I've gotten so sick of hearing these words by people I want to start something special with.
tevaughn Jan 23
Treason, treachery.
You have beset me
you let me
get ready
while I was u  n  s  t  e  a  d  y
for Battle.

My sword wasn’t drawn
yet, you put on
a show,
a song
that didn’t belong.
You straddled…

Your horse.
And of course
the remorse
of the this corpse
I feel now
makes me hoarse -
the prattle.

You got it all.
You let me fall.
I cried, I bawled.
And while I crawled
you were installed
On top…
Yes, You were embattled.
Series of nightmares, the monsters in my mind lured me into traps..
Scratching my hands and face.. under the starry sky was a foggy moon night. Persuading that it wouldn’t hurt.. just to take my inhibition away.. for I ought to get comfortable with my fear..

The monster was howling like a Werewolf in my ears, made me think twice before I got off my lair.. and he was not alone.. the Shifter took the essence of my dead father from my locked memories..
Reckoning me into the shelter of his arms, to slit my throat open..
Series of nightmares, the monsters in my mind lured me into traps..

The fear ate me alive... immobilising my limbs. But I was compelled to think, what if I broke free ? Will the dark clouds clear the sky, and will the moon be full again ? Will the stars take me back to my room ?
Wandering through the woods like a lost bunny, I decided to pick up pace and it made all the difference in that race..
Series of nightmares, the monsters in my mind lured me into traps..

The fear reached the pinnacle and the werewolf chased me to the end of the cliff. Pinned me down and aimed for my neck, his paws heavy on my chest..
His cannibalistic eyes debilitating my soul.
The shifter chuckled, I could see him from the corner of my eye..
And the vampire now waited in line, to suck the blood off of my thigh..
But the pace had taken toll on me..I tried to break free. But the nails of that fierce beast were buried into my chest, remember he pinned me down...

But.. But my soul had power tonight, and it picked my hand, held it tight.. couldn’t help but touch his face and the wolf turn into a puppy, to loving from enraged..
My fear looked him in the eye without a flinch and the little puppy licked my face..

Suddenly all the mist and clouds cleared the werewolf stood by my side, the shifter left my father’s coat. And the vampire took steps ahead..
Now my father is gone but so is the blood sucking monster who snickered and sought my depart.
The vampire is just a tiny bat with the trickling lust for blood that’s now dead..

And I’m back in my bed, wide awake and I see the monsters from a distance, they are the raggedy Ann dolls on my windows, smiling into my dreams, and I’ve made friends with the monsters inside my mind..
Series of nightmares, the monsters in my mind lured me into traps..

And tonight, We hugged, embraced and slept tight..
I met a stranger in the bus..a man in the black suit..and I seemed to know him since ages..took the same route as mine..
Ours was a unique acquaintance, it was of smiles and stares, words hardly spared..

But today, today was different..he, with a diminished smile, seemed like he had a taxing day to his eyes, he had the world locked like the pandora..
To open it was calamity, and to keep it all in was fatality.. but he was brave, went on burning his soul in the fire of the heist..
I always wanted to ask him about his pursuit, but I was scared of the explosion, he might endure his own Big Bang..

This stranger in the bus, the man in the black suit, who I seemed to know since ages now, was unordinarily restless today. And I couldn’t guess why..
Flicking his fingers, frantic, hasty and teary eyes, who was once my persona for strength, he left me drowning into the depths of my thoughts..
Oh how could I have even resisted, I was falling short of smiles..
Deciding to trade a word today, this harmless stranger extends a clumpsy mind, just like mine.. the troubles were little too wild, and I was compelled to listen..
They said talking helped, but we shared more smiles, words lesser spared..remember ?
The lump in his throat did most of the work.. While I got lost in his unshared troubles, i learnt something tonight..

Melting cold nights and rumbling leaves at the height. The swaying trees and the smooth slow breeze..These are the flaws of nature that are meant to make us feel right. But the evil, vicious ones, loneliness and anxiety, are our unborn progenies, and we nurture them with will and pride..they tell us of our existence, of the blood and flesh and the emotions running through our veins.. they make us pop and bleed, through our ears and eyes.. like the dictators back in time.. they eat through us, mummify us for the rest of our lives..
And this stranger in the bus, the man in the black suit..
I finally sense him.. He held my hand, asked me one simple question.
Why do we weep when we lose control ? Why are there storms and tempests inside our tiny hearts? Why do we feel wounded by the god damn loneliness that we create with our own flesh and blood, our own nurturing ? Why are we possessive about this poison that is freezing our blood, one cell at a time..? Yes, anxiety.. why do we let it turn us blue, kill us ?

I could only wonder, how smoothly he filled all the blanks. The blanks inside my gut. The blanks inside my head, the questions that he slapped in my face left red marks, but the ringing in my ears gave me the answer..

How easily could I let this venom out of my nose, with each exhale, I could sense the fumes of the blue escaping, leaving me with the spectrum of all colours but the one..

I see this stranger in the black suit everyday now. Everyday, In my bed, embracing me into sound sleep, in the mirror telling me that I was the prettiest of all, in my thoughts, in my walks, talks and mindful tirades.
The stranger now is a part of me, he camps inside me.. he replaced my poisons and demons..
And now we look out the window together, and smile more often.. the storms seem sorted now and bitchy anxiety sits beside me, not inside me..
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