#theblues
I've come to love
and know
the color blue to mean
not a Blue Monday
Blue Note or joke
and don't much care to sing the Blues
or for that matter
give them
because truth be told
most of the time
I want to caucus
with those
pumping and stumping
for a Blue Hawaii
or the warm blue waters
pickling poetically
the clam shell white bottom
of Palancar Reef
Whit Howland © 2019
Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 3:32 AM UTC
patterns pressed
in old vinyl
needle-scratched
pop and crackle
background noise
just genetic ambiance
old as the blues
smoky aftertaste
blessing curse
lost fortune
lured fate
lessons earned
the hard way
long playing
at 33 1/3 rpm
I'm humming
no resistance
my will altered
I submit
to inevitable vacillation
accept ambiguity
as sweet song
lyrics unknown
an uneven melody
I can't deny
or disown
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 11:06 AM UTC
Blind Willie Johnson strums six strings a day
He drinks with the woman who taught him to play
He spells out his secrets in the songs that he sings
And breathes his life onto six rusty strings
Blind Willie Johnson brings home the blues
Blind Willie Johnson will wail the blues to you
The brothel he grew up in is tearing down the walls
He's got so many memories of those smokey halls
His mama could be there or she could be dead
He's got no pictures, just anecdotes instead
Blind Willie Johnson said he don't know a thing
Except for the truth in the blues that he sings
Blind Willie Johnson ain't really blind at all
He's just got those gray eyes from years of alcohol
He stares into the smoke of a Friday night crowd
Who stare back at him as his stories ring out
Blind Willie Johnson doesn't cover up a thing
Listen to his pain in the blues that he sings
"Blind Willie Johnson" reads the graveyard stone
Under the blanket of the sky, Willie rests alone
Though his voice is lost underneath the ground
The world will never forget Blind Willie's sound
Blind Willie Johnson sang the way he felt
He never complained about the hand he was dealt
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 12:59 AM UTC
by Arcassin Burnham
Shoot down all my high points,
And start with me,
start with me,
start with me,
Theres A rope,
Theres a ceiling,
do you need help in containing it?,
seriously what are you doin!!!!!
is it too much for your little hands to grasp in utter Agony,
towards greater things to gravitate to,
and make everything clueless in the process of thinking out load,
and thinking what else did you have to do,
Thats awful,
make it worth your own while,
collect rent when its due,
being so picky,
we're not simple minded,
we know the sky is sometimes blue,
and when they call it the blues,
we must write a sad song full of sorrow and communist ********
but flowers keep growing,
and others set the trend,
Not physically able,
don't look back on forever,
couldn't stop her from eating the apple,
but you cocked back and unloaded the revolver,
so shoot down all my high points and start with me.
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 6:23 PM UTC
YOU ASKED WHY MY HAIR IS SO MANY HUES OF BLUE
WELL...
I NEED ONE TO MATCH THE COLOR OF MY BLOOD
AND ONE TO MATCH THE COLOR OF MY MOOD
AND ONE FOR THE SKY
AND ONE FOR THE MOON
AND ONE FOR THE VEINS THAT
S T R E T C H
ACROSS MY PALE SKIN
AND ONE FOR THE TEARS OF THOSE NOT AFRAID TO WIN
AND ONE FOR THE JEANS, FADED IN THEIR GLORY
AND ONE FOR THE HELL OF IT BECAUSE
NATURAL
IS
BORING.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC
Oakes-photo, hypocrisy and flagrant mirky plateau. Brimming celestial warrants overcrowding public housing systems. North-South lights, sell costly iPhone Apps; and then there are Social Societies of non-verbal delight. Password protected non-profitable and over-costly educations of no reward or biblical synonyms. Catastrophizing hash-tag dot.com. Weary party going poster children with glowing anemone guts, fruity looped cantlings, ravenous scattered supper clubbed coughing up ******* on their strange and central affairs unit. Overcome the candisation and sugary affairs of any of the ***** and pops that erstwhile matter less and less. We are speaking of nomenclatures that don't arise. Promises and by which confession aloof romanticizes every Tom dicking Mary that carries the theory of sustainable energy, prussian blue, and irregular browsing.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:46 AM UTC