"si saw be bop shhh shhh bing"
Roger Turner - Poet 

I've a song stuck in my head
No words, but it's still there
Trundling on with out a thought
It's something I should share

De da doodle la la de ding
boo bar fiddle riddle king
si saw be bop shhh shhh bing
do waddle dip don boom

There's no direction to where it goes
It's a melody of sorts
I've words a plenty, they don't fit
I've just this thing and all its warts

De da doodle la la de ding
boo bar fiddle riddle king
si saw be bop shhh shhh bing
do waddle dip don boom

I play nothing, but hear guitar
some drums there in behind
A backup singer singing loud
And a bass to keep in time

De da doodle la la de ding
boo bar fiddle riddle king
si saw be bop shhhh shhhhh bing
do waddle dip don boom

"Southern gospel country bop rhythm and blues he turned music on its"
Hal Loyd Denton 

State of our Being
I want to shout at life complain about where we have ended up I found the perfect allegory for this
Piece a western magazine has this written on a barn that is seriously in need of a paint job it says
Every barn needs a little paint and in the open door there stands a baby colt paint horse we could all
Use a reassessment a new coat of paint we the baby boom generation changed our world we shook
American society to its core there was things wrong with the country as now but there is more wrong
With us as a group I just want to take us on a trip that use to be a standard saying you all right man yes
I’m just tripping man the tripping has turn to fitting man were tied in knots having fits its because we
Forgot who we are and where we came from hey presidents build libraries and museums and put their
Names on them and well they should well I think a whole generation is worth a museum on the out side
One word ROCK says it all then the building itself a great arching entry has three neon three inch bands
Red green and yellow it looks just like the front of a juke box inside are the different rooms that depict
Times and different phases some is told in paintings still photography and videos it starts with gold solid
Gold all the gold records that lined the walls of the coolest talent found anywhere in their wake we
Found our sensation cool swirled and rolled as a torrent sweeping us a long on a great musical wave
The king of Memphis stole the show he was show cased in one of the rooms on video by wedding
Southern gospel country bop rhythm and blues he turned music on its ear not to mention the hearer’s
Heart sent racing it was the call to be in a sense anointed leave you’re stayed void self behind come alive
To possibilities long they have been lying dormant you’re invited to score life at a higher free level and
We did ultimately we gave and increased society and then the dream room the voices enchanting other
Worldly so beautiful you entered a trance whatever your state of mind you were effected and your
Companion reaped the highest benefit maybe you were just dull well in no time you were sharpened
More sensitive more considerate you realized deeply what you had and you gave expression to a heart
That was released to its full potential to care and give love we were on a mission and the rest of the
World got it steel away and love me was a innocent anthem that drugs and crassness never touched
We were besought we lived on the crest of a wave that embraced a glorious future and we delivered
On that knowledge how we need to return to that primary truth now we fall for the lie it’s all over
We are past it we could have missed it the first time if we had lived by that dead thinking we are not
Dead and far from it they should hear from the baby boomers again defying achieving against all odds
Give our best lets add on to a great museum let have a whole lot of shaking going on

"where the late bop players"
Connor Johnston 

I'm sure an abstract painter adores
the confusion of their
Glass reflections on materials in a bedroom
the EGOIST in every
in a television set while it rains out
(creating pockets of water on the balcony)
Where is my foundation for times like these when
feet become LOUD ER in the daytime
and obstacles have grown their teeth?

Perhaps a dump truck full of nicely dressed mannequins
will finally be
and my eyes
will see
as soft
as your

Quarry of bones in an office space

Caffeinated Canadian Bohemian
daydream of firs showering adjacent
Manhattan batteries.
Tomorrow's rejections watch
bright and beautiful waves smile with false
a n d a n o t h e r
concrete victim is created.

(the solar flare of the Neutral)
the ammunition in my coffee
and conversations blinking
LAUGHS          OUT
(gorgeous and hollow lineups in front of
a Vancouver bar 11:30pm)

Pale October energies and the
Dharma Radio
feathering my fantasies as this year reaches it's last quarter
anxiously I roll around on the mattress,
open window, listening in on the intricately staged
oblivion of trees
who've become infatuated
with coffins.

Gastown (as it appeared in my dreams)
has found it's dusk anthem!
Adriano Celantano's
what a strange dream that was
the music was vivid to the point of
impossible recognition
and I'm awake and dizzy not from all that
but from love
(it's tilting my axis!)
Always has......

An untraceable eye
lingers in
malevolence to ALL city banks
where the late bop players
stand united and "free"
(Outside, by art on a wall with animals dancing in a hot air balloon, jealous of their own permanent state of painted euphoria)
Restaurants are consumed by silence
upon closing down,
but NOT the Fisgard streetcorner cafe
I frequent!
It's LOUD TRUTH and San Francisco weeps in
the decorated walls.....some far off dream of North Beach
Trieste evening with people who were once ALIVE!!
People that bleached
with sharpened language sleeker than
the polished jaw of Apollo.

Here I am again,
accepting the same sweeping misery
as those before me
(settled tombstones barely seen beneath a wild oak
while cars cry exhaust to beach-view apartments
and Winter's harsh wind drums against the window pane)
sure they were good people, but living plays no favorites.

I'm awake and dizzy!
forlorn with the morning.
Stars surrender to a sun
which often wonders
how we adapt to this asylum.
(Vanity makes me sleepy)

Warm in the delicate crimson light,
I lie in a temporary peace.
I am setting
as all else rises.

"Head bobs to Be Bop"
James Bradley McCallum 

Ko Ko to Go Go
a prelude to a kiss
dance with Chubby Checker
lift a slo gin fizz

Head bobs to Be Bop
flip the B Side now
mellowtune in monotone
two ears for stereo wow!

Wonderment of Duke and Miles
swinging kool birthin boplicity
urban crush the hipsters rush
jazz joints cross the city

Firery sax emote a clash
strain ears of credulity
Lester leaps creative heat
nips harden on my titties

Max taps exotic wax
Django's quick pickin
finger snaps flip my lid
lips deliciously sippin

Eurozone a Zen zone
a blue infinitive smokin
big peeps dig don pink wigs
fat spliffs hot token

My new suede shoes
walks west end blues
Pop's cornet got me tippin
his open blast first to last
I like cornbread, barbecue
and fine home jazz cookin


"The bop of the trumpet"
Mitchell Duran 

The bop of the trumpet
Flies low through the air
Erupting found crowd
Like a two drink date

Smiles grow from faces
Now without any control at all
Security dances whirling black night sticks
Bouncer's make love to tilting unarmed'

The well here is always full
For there are many souls exploding
Touching this meaningless
By music never heard before

Ground lit up with reflections water mirror
Chairs chipped from their long lonely career
Banister's are pushing against themselves now
As the manager's don't need no help from their cow

The stage is lit with fire
The crowd begins to burn
Everyone stands to hear the sound
Death weighs on them like a million n' some pounds

Stars mark the high ceiling roof
Shining down on the sweat headed geeks
A pop is heard from the one empty bar
Teenager squeals off only hearing the tear of his car

Doors are creaking n' you tried speaking
To the girl alone but she's made of stone
She cracks a smile that seems like miles
You weep as you creep back a couple steps of feet

Oceans made her from the deepest gorge
Her heart beats for her but you want more
She listens as if naked an' you can't take it
Out on the street your beat by her velvet treat

"To morph his pain to bop"

Together they lamented a generation with newspaper vision
In a mesh perspective, young and old
I have a bad habit of falling
In love
Everywhere I go, said young
Is that jazz on your record player?
I do believe it is becoming my most passionate affair of all
Skiddly-doo bahp, bum dum walk, deedly-dee
And keyed swung run
Are like wild spirals of fireworks, tie dyed tentacles swirling about
Hugging my weightless all-ear, a train for fractal tracks on-spot created
I hear their hoof beats, and I think zebras
He told old how he intended to learn
To morph his pain to bop
And achieve the wordless cohesion of sardine schools
Through plucked coiled steel, if it cost him all his years
He knew the notes, but now he would conjure color
And shade them through his pineal prism
Until his dancing phalanges could spill coral reefs and sunsets
Old told him how music had saved his life
And in the war he was permitted to leave his truck
To press on black and white, tamed but untrained
The Japan grand was lame, but officers smiled
Some night, he said, when you're smashed and uninhibited
Gather your tools and let your inner self become a melody
When you manage to break your gates in sobriety
You will be an artist
Listen to the wind
Beauty is improvised
He handed young his authored book, which carefully he'd signed
Never lose it friend; your greatest gift is your appetite
They sat in his office while the record spun a standard
Fuzzy magic rang out forever, it seemed
Like signals to space or whale songs through the depths
Most listeners are scared to lose control
Ashes piled as the fire died
But young knew his never would
Him and jazz had fallen in love
That night, he knew he'd lived

Next page