#hendrix
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!
Nov 30, 2020
Nov 30, 2020 at 6:24 AM UTC
Spritely lights
the
youth has risen
groovy nights without prisons
gypsy dances
with
freelancers
peace tattoos
from
freedoms flock
long live
Jimi and Janice
69
Woodstock
❤
Jan 23, 2020
Jan 23, 2020 at 8:11 AM UTC
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
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 7:10 AM UTC
"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!
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 3:11 PM UTC
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
y'know.
my eyes
like dark voids ...
searchlights,
his face ...
bewildered.
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 1:59 PM UTC
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
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 5:37 PM UTC
Α♥Ω
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…
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
"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.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC
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 go...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.
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC
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.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 2:16 PM UTC
Built on the Berkley model
Paid for with mothers essential oils
...a bitumen
And a flower blooms from Medicine Rock
Like a ballerina
As the Old Man weeps joyfully
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
She bohemian art shaman,
a cosmic clown tribe,
a Voodoo Chile; Hendrix-haired.
Sometimes I think the Wankerverse*
is the best description
of where I like to make pancakes for her....
A kiss from her lips feels like a sunrise
after a midnight Shpongle dance party.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC
She walked. While I shuffled my feet and stared at the ground.
Lights. Dancing around her in neon moonlit sound.
Grey rainclouds, they hummed a mournful tune
But I kept walking, and I tried to make a little room.
She turned, and the sun crept out and gave a little grin.
He smiled, awed at the sight in front of him but,
I mustered up, and sent her a slight return
And with a wave, she kissed away my concern-
Now we're walking. I can't speak a word.
The shy duck with the beautiful red bird,
We flew off; And soared high in the sky-
The sun had set, slightly reflected while I'm...
Bold as Love.
We're all... Bold as Love.
And I'm Bold as Love.
Just ask the Axis.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
I strive for any sense of sanity my body has left
and you could inject lithium into my bloodstream
all you wanted but that will never take away
the stream of conscious to which I face every **** day.
And I speak these words in a volume only sincere ears
could hone into and leech off of for their own sanity,
but things are never that easy.
Affirmation is like a drug and sanity like a ghost
you get addicted to those things in which
we are not usually accustomed to
that sincerity so comforting it's hard to let go.
Most people do drugs to forget,
but ******* with you,
I want to remember every single moment-
harness it inside my memory and save it as draft
so I can post it to my retinas later that night
when I'm loosing sleep because I cannot rid of the ghosts
I've spent both my night and day fighting off.
I want to crash and burn
I want to live a life like all the crazy poets
and authors and writers that never held dear to their sanity
they embraced their madness and embarked on a journey
throwing away any sense of normalcy they had.
But maybe, I should do as you say
or do as my father says-
ya know, just deal with my problems on my own.
It's kind of crazy because you both say the same thing
which leads me to believe that women do end up
marrying their fathers which I fear-
more than any other obstacle in my life
because my broken wings were built upon my fathers shoulders
and upon mine is more weight than I can carry,
So i'm sorry you've become a muse for my misplaced sanity
and a drawing board for my dilemmas
but baby, you have not seen dramatic.
Not from me at least and it's not safe for me
to hide this part of myself away from you..
But it's like you want me to.
And one day, oh god one day
I will crack under the pressure placed upon these shoulders
and try to fly with these broken wings
and I will crash and burn like alll those people
and it's then I will realize
that hiding away this part of myself
in spite of everything I know,
will be the best and the worst thing I've ever done.
and I'm so ******* tired,
that tired isn't even the word to describe it,
more like futile or unavailing because
I hide away parts of myself for the ones I love
and they itch to come at the surface like a growing tick
ready to explode distracted by euphoria filling it's stomach.
I am not okay, and I'm kind of tired of acting like it.
I am a ticking time bomb
ready to blow your ******* head off at any second
one you will never be able to disable-
and this, this is manic depression.
I wish it was as beautiful as Hendrix made it seem.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:57 AM UTC
“My sole goal in life is to keep racing
down the interstate without a clock
so I can keep going until people forget who I am.”
In my head I knew I was wrong
hypocritical, insane, illogical, but above all I was still
humane!
This, yes, this sole fact is what keeps me
separated from you
draw a straight line down the road we lived on
the squares and the circles.
You, with your fancy plaque and NHS bumper sticker
With the family of four and no reason to feel failure
With your perfect scores and magnificent vernacular
Who let you have it so easy?!
Me, with my Jimi Hendrix poster
family of who knows how many
and the chance to earn my GED in a few years
Why was it me?!
You met your wife in the 10th grade
You gave her a promise ring and everything
Even took her with you on spring break
Who said you didn't have to try?!
I was placed in the wards that year
they said it was insanity
I thought I was just thinking ahead
Why can’t they understand?!
BUT THEY ALWAYS UNDERSTAND YOU!
You, your Shakespeare perfect jargon
Mr. Right, Perfect, next coming of Beethoven
You were made to please everyone and become important!
And that’s what separates us.
Even though it’s the same street that raised us
I bought the Harley and your parents got you the Chevy.
And I recall the one time I was flying down the interstate
And caught up to you as you were going nothing higher than 70.
I stared at you and you kept your eyes on the road.
I don’t blame you, I knew that you just wanted to see my bomber jacket
I have a skull on fire on the back of it
So I gave you a great view
hope you enjoyed it.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
Moon child
Astrodelia
Chameleon soul
'Spirit animal' we're told
Tonight there's beauty in her sleep
Her mind wanders
On the back foot of a restless day
She takes a stroll to the red house over yonder
What to do, forever pondered
No matter,
The outcome
Of course
Is destined to please her
Her mind wanders
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 3:31 PM UTC