#paterson - Hello Poetry

radiating street lamps ionized the indigo blue haze charging the night air sparking the city’s eclectic currents coursing through the abandoned raceways and empty streets energizing the phantoms of the city’s restive spirits the ghosts of past Great Falls Fests came jitterbugging back to life transparent veils lifting and falling with it, a voltaic indigo blue billowed out of the abandoned stadium pouring smoking oboe moans into the cavity of the great gorge “I was one of the last to perform at Hinchliffe Stadium” Duke proclaimed with his usual distinguished air “it was also one of my last concerts”, he added with a tinge of sorrow in his voice “the band was rockin the Art Deco tiles, splintering and shattering into bits of earth toned graffiti the last vestiges of a bygone Jazz Age dissolving into the disco fizz of the Seventies” the indigo mood clamoured off the rocks absorbing the sonorous waves like a stand of hallowed sequoias “I’m trying to remember what my last tune was that night. was it Caravan? or a Prelude to a Kiss? No no too mellow we always ended on an upper a real crowd pleaser, I recall the boys swung a medley before the grand finale that medley included Mood Indigo, Caravan, Sophisticated Ladies, Prelude to a Kiss. We opened with Kinda Dukish Rockin and Rhythm we closed with Satin Doll Yes I’m quite sure I waltzed them off the floor that night with Satin Doll” Duke ran his fingers through his processed hair. He grabbed my shoulders raised his baggy eyelids And looked me straight In the eye “Yes, we followed Tito Puente, he killed it we upped our game He was just starting out But at this time Silk City was going Caribe Juan Tizol was out of his mind that night, I thought him and Babs we're gunna jump ship and join the Salsa Circus Yeah El Rex and Celia Cruz were that good El Rex had the place jumpin and jivin it was a glimpse of the old days livin in the here and now just like the old days I couldn't compete with that so I waltzed them off the floor with Satin Doll a little cheek to cheek swoon maybe some guys got lucky that night and maybe some girls fell in love Yeah Paterson was changing, the ***** Leagues long gone the last ****** Auto Races crossed the final finish line weeks before when the raceways in the stadium replaced the raceways to the factories we knew it was coming to an end and with it all the good paying jobs, whatta shame just like me and the boys watching El Rex the Duke was dethroned by a King just like Silk City we had our day in the sun too a Satin Doll Sun Those were some good times, sometimes” Duke scratched his head, and he looked down into the swirling noise of the Great Falls “on a night like this the mood indigo takes you into the darkest hues of blues” fragment from Silk City PIT 6: The Great Falls Duke Ellington, Coleman Hawkins Mood Indigo Oakland 3/30/13 jbm (FRAGMENT WORK IN PROGRESS) Part 6 of extended poem Silk City PIT. PIT is an acronym for Point In Time. PIT is an annual census American cities conduct to count the homeless population. Hope and Labor is the city motto of Paterson NJ, nick named The Silk City.

0

Apr 30, 2020

Apr 30, 2020 at 5:14 PM UTC

james-bradley-mccallum

Mood Indigo

radiating street lamps ionized the indigo blue haze charging the night air sparking the city’s eclectic currents coursing through the abandoned raceways and empty streets energizing the phantoms of the city’s restive spirits the ghosts of past Great Falls Fests came jitterbugging back to life transparent veils lifting and falling with it, a voltaic indigo blue billowed out of the abandoned stadium pouring smoking oboe moans into the cavity of the great gorge “I was one of the last to perform at Hinchliffe Stadium” Duke proclaimed with his usual distinguished air “it was also one of my last concerts”, he added with a tinge of sorrow in his voice “the band was rockin the Art Deco tiles, splintering and shattering into bits of earth toned graffiti the last vestiges of a bygone Jazz Age dissolving into the disco fizz of the Seventies” the indigo mood clamoured off the rocks absorbing the sonorous waves like a stand of hallowed sequoias “I’m trying to remember what my last tune was that night. was it Caravan? or a Prelude to a Kiss? No no too mellow we always ended on an upper a real crowd pleaser, I recall the boys swung a medley before the grand finale that medley included Mood Indigo, Caravan, Sophisticated Ladies, Prelude to a Kiss. We opened with Kinda Dukish Rockin and Rhythm we closed with Satin Doll Yes I’m quite sure I waltzed them off the floor that night with Satin Doll” Duke ran his fingers through his processed hair. He grabbed my shoulders raised his baggy eyelids And looked me straight In the eye “Yes, we followed Tito Puente, he killed it we upped our game He was just starting out But at this time Silk City was going Caribe Juan Tizol was out of his mind that night, I thought him and Babs we're gunna jump ship and join the Salsa Circus Yeah El Rex and Celia Cruz were that good El Rex had the place jumpin and jivin it was a glimpse of the old days livin in the here and now just like the old days I couldn't compete with that so I waltzed them off the floor with Satin Doll a little cheek to cheek swoon maybe some guys got lucky that night and maybe some girls fell in love Yeah Paterson was changing, the ***** Leagues long gone the last ****** Auto Races crossed the final finish line weeks before when the raceways in the stadium replaced the raceways to the factories we knew it was coming to an end and with it all the good paying jobs, whatta shame just like me and the boys watching El Rex the Duke was dethroned by a King just like Silk City we had our day in the sun too a Satin Doll Sun Those were some good times, sometimes” Duke scratched his head, and he looked down into the swirling noise of the Great Falls “on a night like this the mood indigo takes you into the darkest hues of blues” fragment from Silk City PIT 6: The Great Falls Duke Ellington, Coleman Hawkins Mood Indigo Oakland 3/30/13 jbm (FRAGMENT WORK IN PROGRESS) Part 6 of extended poem Silk City PIT. PIT is an acronym for Point In Time. PIT is an annual census American cities conduct to count the homeless population. Hope and Labor is the city motto of Paterson NJ, nick named The Silk City.

150

The other night, I swore I gazed into the past. I saw a kid who was selfish. Not caring, never stressin. Never knowin I saw a teen, who didn't fit. Didn't make the cut, who never made anything grass hopper complex? Then I saw a man, whose hurt.

0

Mar 3, 2016

Mar 3, 2016 at 10:15 AM UTC

chill-luciani

Where

The other night, I swore I gazed into the past. I saw a kid who was selfish. Not caring, never stressin. Never knowin I saw a teen, who didn't fit. Didn't make the cut, who never made anything grass hopper complex? Then I saw a man, whose hurt.

1

a goat encounters a lion. normally the lion sees the goat as food. instead The Lion offers shelter warmth theo goat offered protection awkward that a four-legged hooved animal could protect the queen of the jungle protection together they stood both natural leaders both immature in the ways at the time neither wanted to back down from the other but that's what made it work despite the goats dexterity and natural stubbornness in his ways the lion SAT and ate with the goat. years and years they feast upon the golden ducks they collected at the rivers which they traveled odd as combination is professionals know that that is not even a combination amongst the food chain but fore a while they dined peacefully. the lion roared bloodthirsty the goat while being the loner the leader willfully back down from the lion scenario has a goat beat a lion. The goat couldn't bear the lion parting ways the goat be that as it may just wanted his own way but the goat has to learn sometimes the best win is to back off not every wall is meant to be broken especially that of a lion and her pride so the lion beautiful as ever smirked as if we were the prey and the goat knowingly put his head inside her mouth I'll let you tell it

0

Mar 18, 2015

Mar 18, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC

chill-luciani

a Capricorn and Leo Wow

a goat encounters a lion. normally the lion sees the goat as food. instead The Lion offers shelter warmth theo goat offered protection awkward that a four-legged hooved animal could protect the queen of the jungle protection together they stood both natural leaders both immature in the ways at the time neither wanted to back down from the other but that's what made it work despite the goats dexterity and natural stubbornness in his ways the lion SAT and ate with the goat. years and years they feast upon the golden ducks they collected at the rivers which they traveled odd as combination is professionals know that that is not even a combination amongst the food chain but fore a while they dined peacefully. the lion roared bloodthirsty the goat while being the loner the leader willfully back down from the lion scenario has a goat beat a lion. The goat couldn't bear the lion parting ways the goat be that as it may just wanted his own way but the goat has to learn sometimes the best win is to back off not every wall is meant to be broken especially that of a lion and her pride so the lion beautiful as ever smirked as if we were the prey and the goat knowingly put his head inside her mouth I'll let you tell it

1

sometimes I think I'll be playing myself reminiscing about everything that happened looking back wondering where I f*** ed up at. you know if you take love for granted it doesn't take you something out at younger me. I used to be a fool for deception. now deception prays on me. if we're living a lie I gladly accept my consequences. which means you lying down with someone else. If i said he's not better than me and I'm just hating, envious, jaded. ever so green I envisioned us traveling the world together at one point. this is merely stuff I can't see. so I travel alone looking for mere traces of you the mirror don't even feel the same. out the corner of my eye were like the stars at night. just like that in the cloudy evening nowhere to be found. I've seen the earth move. I've watch sunsets not appreciative of what I had and have not knowing what I've lost, is worth more than any dollar known to man. the next pull of my cigarette fills my lungs I know it's bad for my health but, it makes me feel not even half of what your smile gives me and your goofy *** laugh. punk *** I once wrote a lyric i try and I try.I don't know sometimes the way the Sun light connects with your eyes. it's just something about it I couldn't even describe. we both got lives I live in yours I wish you lived in mine. dear selfishness,

0

Mar 18, 2015

Mar 18, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC

chill-luciani

sometimes

sometimes I think I'll be playing myself reminiscing about everything that happened looking back wondering where I f*** ed up at. you know if you take love for granted it doesn't take you something out at younger me. I used to be a fool for deception. now deception prays on me. if we're living a lie I gladly accept my consequences. which means you lying down with someone else. If i said he's not better than me and I'm just hating, envious, jaded. ever so green I envisioned us traveling the world together at one point. this is merely stuff I can't see. so I travel alone looking for mere traces of you the mirror don't even feel the same. out the corner of my eye were like the stars at night. just like that in the cloudy evening nowhere to be found. I've seen the earth move. I've watch sunsets not appreciative of what I had and have not knowing what I've lost, is worth more than any dollar known to man. the next pull of my cigarette fills my lungs I know it's bad for my health but, it makes me feel not even half of what your smile gives me and your goofy *** laugh. punk *** I once wrote a lyric i try and I try.I don't know sometimes the way the Sun light connects with your eyes. it's just something about it I couldn't even describe. we both got lives I live in yours I wish you lived in mine. dear selfishness,

2

to the women of my life. Im ashamed to say I've done some things that never should have done. leaving you stranded at the first sign of trouble. not being there when needed at the most. taking you for granted thinking you always be there, how forgetful am I. the times we shared. the time I should have spent. all the gifts given to me foolishly spent as if a young kid with money for the first time. You know that first time you bought you own clothes. my mother would slap me for you. my grandmother would have loved you. I wish you were here my brother speaks of you often. we both wonder where are you hopefully living. miss your punk *** too. don't get f***** up you know I love you. I miss the way you subtly flirting with me I'm miss you lying. I respect your ways and failed to recognize the fact you respected mine. all of us have secrets. some of us wish to share more. yeah I'm still selfish in my ways into a matured understand the old cliche goes you never know what you have until you lose it. knowing what I know now we were just Batman and Robin Bonnie and Clyde bye bye blackbird. it's too bad sometimes my mother taught me way better than that. my sister would have disowned me not I'm a little more mature there's no second chance cuz the second hand is broken thus I leave it at that the woman of my life.

0

Mar 18, 2015

Mar 18, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC

chill-luciani

unsaid

to the women of my life. Im ashamed to say I've done some things that never should have done. leaving you stranded at the first sign of trouble. not being there when needed at the most. taking you for granted thinking you always be there, how forgetful am I. the times we shared. the time I should have spent. all the gifts given to me foolishly spent as if a young kid with money for the first time. You know that first time you bought you own clothes. my mother would slap me for you. my grandmother would have loved you. I wish you were here my brother speaks of you often. we both wonder where are you hopefully living. miss your punk *** too. don't get f***** up you know I love you. I miss the way you subtly flirting with me I'm miss you lying. I respect your ways and failed to recognize the fact you respected mine. all of us have secrets. some of us wish to share more. yeah I'm still selfish in my ways into a matured understand the old cliche goes you never know what you have until you lose it. knowing what I know now we were just Batman and Robin Bonnie and Clyde bye bye blackbird. it's too bad sometimes my mother taught me way better than that. my sister would have disowned me not I'm a little more mature there's no second chance cuz the second hand is broken thus I leave it at that the woman of my life.

1

I wake up thinking of ways to entertain her and please her within the spectrum our existence. even through all the flaws and setbacks I have yet to accomplish or obtain any mastery of loving or living her what's so to speaking of her. I want to be her morning breath. I want to be that first cigarette a smoker who has smoke for 10 years has in the morning. That first pull. That first inhale that first exhale. I want to be that sudden change that urge to quit. Yet the same reason she can't turn away. somehow I still struggle with the mastery and the ability to obtain the way of loving her entire being renee.

0

Mar 8, 2015

Mar 8, 2015 at 11:29 PM UTC

chill-luciani

untitled

I wake up thinking of ways to entertain her and please her within the spectrum our existence. even through all the flaws and setbacks I have yet to accomplish or obtain any mastery of loving or living her what's so to speaking of her. I want to be her morning breath. I want to be that first cigarette a smoker who has smoke for 10 years has in the morning. That first pull. That first inhale that first exhale. I want to be that sudden change that urge to quit. Yet the same reason she can't turn away. somehow I still struggle with the mastery and the ability to obtain the way of loving her entire being renee.

2

I wake up thinking of ways to entertain her and please her within the spectrum our existence. even through all the flaws and setbacks I have yet to accomplish or obtain any mastery of loving or living her what's so to speaking of her. I want to be her morning breath. I want to be that first cigarette a smoker who has smoke for 10 years has in the morning. That first pull. That first inhale that first exhale. I want to be that sudden change that urge to quit. Yet the same reason she can't turn away. somehow I still struggle with the mastery and the ability to obtain the way of loving her entire being renee.

0

Mar 8, 2015

Mar 8, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC

chill-luciani

untitled

I wake up thinking of ways to entertain her and please her within the spectrum our existence. even through all the flaws and setbacks I have yet to accomplish or obtain any mastery of loving or living her what's so to speaking of her. I want to be her morning breath. I want to be that first cigarette a smoker who has smoke for 10 years has in the morning. That first pull. That first inhale that first exhale. I want to be that sudden change that urge to quit. Yet the same reason she can't turn away. somehow I still struggle with the mastery and the ability to obtain the way of loving her entire being renee.

2

I wake up thinking of ways to entertain her and please her within the spectrum our existence. even through all the flaws and setbacks I have yet to accomplish or obtain any mastery of loving or living her what's so to speaking of her. I want to be her morning breath. I want to be that first cigarette a smoker who has smoke for 10 years has in the morning. That first pull. That first inhale that first exhale. I want to be that sudden change that urge to quit. Yet the same reason she can't turn away. somehow I still struggle with the mastery and the ability to obtain the way of loving her entire being renee.

0

Mar 8, 2015

Mar 8, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC

chill-luciani

perspective

I wake up thinking of ways to entertain her and please her within the spectrum our existence. even through all the flaws and setbacks I have yet to accomplish or obtain any mastery of loving or living her what's so to speaking of her. I want to be her morning breath. I want to be that first cigarette a smoker who has smoke for 10 years has in the morning. That first pull. That first inhale that first exhale. I want to be that sudden change that urge to quit. Yet the same reason she can't turn away. somehow I still struggle with the mastery and the ability to obtain the way of loving her entire being renee.

2

Dream of the Melbourne Cup by Banjo Paterson Bring me a quart of colonial beer And some doughy damper to make good cheer,

0

Dec 22, 2014

Dec 22, 2014 at 4:00 AM UTC

u636774

Dream of the Melbourne Cup by Banjo Paterson

Dream of the Melbourne Cup by Banjo Paterson Bring me a quart of colonial beer And some doughy damper to make good cheer,

3

We pass the walled incline of Barbour Park during the day a foreboding patch…an open air market for the slave merchants hustling crack and **** drippin **** that's been stepped on so many times its a wonder the cut can still chide a high out of a wrangled soul the park’s modest elevation is an advantageous lookout for runners dealing dimes while petty ante gangstas daydream gun blazing glories of their next big job not long ago the park was refurbed with an industrial strength plastic Jungle Jim, soon after the park was condemned as a no go zone for kids, the litter of hypodermic needles and mounds of lead spiked soil, deemed a public health risk for youth... quickly repurposed as a crib for ballers… back in the day, the shady pocket park lifted Paterson’s citizenry off the heated pavements of a bustling thoroughfare a respite from the pulsing tensions of urbanity, a secular sanctuary, balancing the urgent industry of commerce with the propriety of residential life compacting a brief escape from the clanging metronome with a viewing stand offering elevation... a heightened perspective on life’s parade marching up and down Broadway… this urban oasis planted at the center of Silk City’s grandiloquent boulevard, occupies the most democratic equidistant transit point between opulent Eastside mansions of livin large tycoons at one end…. and the industrial district of The Great Falls, rising at Broadway’s western terminus, assiduously manufacturing dollars for the darlings of fortune and subsistence for workers yearning to taste the crumbs of prosperity that may fall from the tables of opportunity the park once a pleasant face of the landlocked 4th Ward filled with homage to a nation's greatest citizens, Hamilton, Rosa Parks, Lafayette, Madison, Fulton, Montgomery and Franklin has denounced the virtuous pursuit of their aspirational yearnings now playas feast on the mead of sustenance harvested from emaciated streets commerce has taken up full residency... the wards cottage industry cannibalizing homes, hoods and homeboys as the 4th Ward grows ugly, the healthy matrix of bustling street life breaks down the peeps weakened lay prostate offer veins to blood ******* predators roaming distressed going south neighborhoods wise guy knuckleheads, get busy gaming the system short changing themselves and hustling game to get by in the sweet bye and buy of life at night a back lit Barbour Park floods with the yellow haze of blinking Fair St. lamp posts and the pulsing halations crowning the Baptist's of St. Luke's sentient figures shift between park benches flitting among the black torsos of skeletal trees blending into the faded complexion of abandoned swing sets I swear I see Hurricane Carter shadow boxing dancing around a gangling Elm, jabbing away, lifting a sweet uppercut working combos of left hooks and right crosses hoping to drop an intractable presence banging away at a body politic forming the walls of taunting inequities Hurricane stays busy delivering body blows to burst through the prison bars surrounding Barbour Park Music selection: Bob Dylan, Hurricane Paterson 01/30/13 jbm A fragment from extended poem Silk City PIT. Published today to honor the death of Rubin Hurricane Carter. May he find the freedom in eternal rest that eluded him during his lifetime.

0

Apr 21, 2014

Apr 21, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC

james-bradley-mccallum

4. SCP: Funky Broadway WIP ( Rubin Hurricane Carter Fragment)

We pass the walled incline of Barbour Park during the day a foreboding patch…an open air market for the slave merchants hustling crack and **** drippin **** that's been stepped on so many times its a wonder the cut can still chide a high out of a wrangled soul the park’s modest elevation is an advantageous lookout for runners dealing dimes while petty ante gangstas daydream gun blazing glories of their next big job not long ago the park was refurbed with an industrial strength plastic Jungle Jim, soon after the park was condemned as a no go zone for kids, the litter of hypodermic needles and mounds of lead spiked soil, deemed a public health risk for youth... quickly repurposed as a crib for ballers… back in the day, the shady pocket park lifted Paterson’s citizenry off the heated pavements of a bustling thoroughfare a respite from the pulsing tensions of urbanity, a secular sanctuary, balancing the urgent industry of commerce with the propriety of residential life compacting a brief escape from the clanging metronome with a viewing stand offering elevation... a heightened perspective on life’s parade marching up and down Broadway… this urban oasis planted at the center of Silk City’s grandiloquent boulevard, occupies the most democratic equidistant transit point between opulent Eastside mansions of livin large tycoons at one end…. and the industrial district of The Great Falls, rising at Broadway’s western terminus, assiduously manufacturing dollars for the darlings of fortune and subsistence for workers yearning to taste the crumbs of prosperity that may fall from the tables of opportunity the park once a pleasant face of the landlocked 4th Ward filled with homage to a nation's greatest citizens, Hamilton, Rosa Parks, Lafayette, Madison, Fulton, Montgomery and Franklin has denounced the virtuous pursuit of their aspirational yearnings now playas feast on the mead of sustenance harvested from emaciated streets commerce has taken up full residency... the wards cottage industry cannibalizing homes, hoods and homeboys as the 4th Ward grows ugly, the healthy matrix of bustling street life breaks down the peeps weakened lay prostate offer veins to blood ******* predators roaming distressed going south neighborhoods wise guy knuckleheads, get busy gaming the system short changing themselves and hustling game to get by in the sweet bye and buy of life at night a back lit Barbour Park floods with the yellow haze of blinking Fair St. lamp posts and the pulsing halations crowning the Baptist's of St. Luke's sentient figures shift between park benches flitting among the black torsos of skeletal trees blending into the faded complexion of abandoned swing sets I swear I see Hurricane Carter shadow boxing dancing around a gangling Elm, jabbing away, lifting a sweet uppercut working combos of left hooks and right crosses hoping to drop an intractable presence banging away at a body politic forming the walls of taunting inequities Hurricane stays busy delivering body blows to burst through the prison bars surrounding Barbour Park Music selection: Bob Dylan, Hurricane Paterson 01/30/13 jbm A fragment from extended poem Silk City PIT. Published today to honor the death of Rubin Hurricane Carter. May he find the freedom in eternal rest that eluded him during his lifetime.

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