"bojangles" poems
365Nectar #46 The High Priestess of Soul
Fri. November 8, 2013 10:38 P.M.
Deep in the distance
dancing upon the horizon
a deeply distinctive voice
defies definition
bending genres to her will
clearly breaking boundaries
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues
Little Girl Blue
lettin' it all out
with a wild as the wind
Sinner man
just tryin' to feel good
absolutely refusing to be misunderstood
a strong-willed priestess turns tempermental tunes
into blazing beautiful harmony
putting a revolutionary spell on you
belting emotional songs of freedom and spirit
Peace of Heart
Nectar of Truth
just in time
to do what you do...
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues.
Born to a preacher handyman
and housemaid minister
a gospel pop fusion diva
emerges from the Glory of Love
a strange volatile fruit
blossoms into young, gifted, and Black
spitting storms of spiritually smoldering Black Gold
from a silky soul
that scorches the earth
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues
Masterfully mesmerizing
Black rock
Blood
and Candlesmoke
a fiery flow of
tangy, tantalizing and titillating
under a fog of duality
genius bears two heads
vibrant and intricate
a saucy songstress swings with passion and honesty
an empowered diva
breaks down and let's it all out
just energetic expressive jazz
injected with well composed folklore
live at Ronnie Scotts
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues
From Newport to Baltimore
an exiled priestess feeds forbidden fruit
and hypnotizes the masses
with tantalizing love me or leave me alone torch songs
a powerful
Four Women
high on Lilac Wine
blush from Broadway Blues Ballads
in Baltimore
See-line woman
goes to hell
to save Little Liza Jane
and shelters in Barbados
Cotton-eyed Joe feeds
Brown Baby controversy
behind Blue Prelude
Did it move you?
Yeah...
Hell yeah.. it moved me too!
Mr. Bojangles wave bye bye to a Blackbird
in chilly winds that don't blow
while willows weep something seemingly
symbolic of soothing
to an African mailman in Central Park
and an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues
The High Priestess of Soul
caged but still singing
shivering sensations
from stubborn sweetness
under sweet strings
that sharply spill and scatter strength
to the sorrowful
that daily dine and devour
silky, soulful, and spicy
Pastel Blues.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
strait crazy
saintly mania raving.
new age jainist phasers
sang they praises
like
'hey mr bojangles,
go mangle up the angle,
shake shake shake the frame
& they'll thank you later.'
...sorry not today.
I'm feeling under the
earthquake weather.
wallowing wonder
following the devil
thru the desert
on great endeavors
to make it rain feathers
that sound like thunder.
famous as ever
nameless as heaven
to say the least
I'm slaying beasts that
came from me
in the first place.
this is lovehate.
lovehate lovehate.
& it's useless.
just lemme set the mood.
it's stupid
brutish beauty
mooing truly bluesy
marks & bruises
infused with martian
harmony incarnate,
caramelized carnage
set to soothing violent music.
broke record store cliché
faded to frustration feeding
a creaturely need for creation
& hellish lust for selfdestruction.
-nothing special-
just an absolute mess who
dilute the stress through allusion
allegory alliteration
hallucination delusion
***** it's a celebration.
tell the rest those losers
that got left I'm doing my best
even though I'm pretty upset
with how it's all panning out.
oh well I guess.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 7:55 AM UTC
did you ever do Bojangles at the end of a social rope.
stretched out on an ant hill looking up at the slate gray skies of Babylon.
Slip a notch.
Hop scotch...
give a dog a bone.
Peas porridge hot Peas porridge Cold.
Slip a notch...no porridge at all.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 9:01 AM UTC
Mr. Bojangles,
Contemplates the angles.
Modern minds infinitely entangle
Simple strings and fluid streams of thoughts
Are getting tied up in knots
Not in a naughty way, but in a party state
Where people get to tell the time to clocks
Skipping rocks
Across the surface tension, in your office
Chip your dips in the swivel chair in the corner there
Please
Excuse me
While I try to explain to these birds why they’re not free
On a wing and a prayer flag TV set
And I always forget to mention what’s relevant.
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 1:29 PM UTC
I've basked on the beach with Beethoven
n boogied to his craazzy style,
I taught Tarantino to tango,
we sat down, chewed the fat for awhile,
I've tap danced in Bojangles shoes
sung with Leadbelly blues,
never liked Picasso though;
the ****** drank all 'o mi *****
I Bossanova'd my way down to san José
jus to hear what Hendrix could play;,, ,
I found Einstein to be relatively kind
but Dylan really blew my mind,
Dylan really blew my mind,
Now Dylan- he ****** with my mind.
Alan nettleton.
Oct 29, 2010
Oct 29, 2010 at 7:30 AM UTC
So much time
has passed
since you grabbed me by the shoulders,
and yelled
at me
about stealing money from my parents.
You are the asphalt.
You are the reflectors.
You are the speed limits.
You are the road.
I came to visit you,
when you were laid up in the hospital,
and I felt all right
about crying.
I have been in love
by now,
and you know about it.
Bojangles tastes like happiness
when we sit in the lobby,
over cajun fries,
and you tell me about
my grandmother.
Because she was so strong
in her love
and you
were so weak.
"You are my hero,"
I said.
And meant it,
even now
when I am
restless
and unsure.
Bills
are not paid in full
by the end of the month,
and I have a thousand loan checks to fill in;
but I will pay them in your stern and gentle voice.
I think
that there are some things that I am missing on,
so,
I will never plan
your funeral.
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 10:25 PM UTC
He gone
..
Stupid song
...
You you you!
Whimp
----
Carries his bible like a bully in jail
Stumbles along like he just out a hell
---
He saw mr bojangles dancin
An he shot him in the head
--
What's it to ya
Whimp?
--
If ya ain't ashamed of America
You dead
---
Come on!
Try!
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
Follow the echo of dissimilar climbs,
wavering landscapes, silhouettes;
undulating skies of cloud and shadow.
Old peaks left to weather,
as pills carve the plateaued mind,
all ribbon and bows,
all the flowers left by the roadside.
There is a blanket of darkness
and yet always a small box of light.
It illuminates the path, allows for a splurge
of words, of honesty - after all the lies,
after all the pills that gave sleep;
a soft defeat, the irregular streets
and the memories left by the roadside.
Follow me through my choices of word,
shifting coastlines, marionettes;
a body moving in a slow disease,
mental health ailing; the red, red wine.
Those pills came and yet still I remain,
stubborn as a **** on a concrete street,
perfecting the Bojangles walk,
the drunken fool,
the wanderer left by the roadside.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
Let's play strip poetry
until we're no more
than two souls
on Bojangles' shoes
tapping morse code messages
to the listening stars,
and should heaven ever hear us
we'll craft music for clothing
and wrap ourselves in symphonies
of the modern night.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 10:30 PM UTC
The notebook is full, tea turned cold.
State of satisfaction without completion,
no itch to scratch,
no craving to amuse on;
the binge has abated for now.
Fragmented selves have presented as me,
adjusting hair in the faces of strangers,
a drink in hand,
elephants in the room;
none of them relate to me.
Naturally gummed papers strew the desk,
audio jacks and water stained notes.
This is entropy,
this pile of laundry;
the European map, made in China.
Going crazy is an ongoing process, friend.
It takes a lifetime to master
the Bojangles walk,
the flat-capped freedom;
a filthy soldier's limp.
I am finding my place amongst the misfits.
The world behind a blast-screen,
no invested belief,
no disease left to treat,
staying in for the evening,
staying in for the week.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
/
+ /
+ /
+ /
+ / = 5
•
We ride !!
~~
The midnight love !
The high moon hill !
The desert town !
The mystic vision we know as real
Far from triviality
• •
•
**** false gods !
Know what's real !
THERE REALLY IS A TRUTH
A POWER
YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO TALK ABOUT !
( well
LET'S START TALKIN ! ! )
and let's talk of NOTHING else
••
We ride !!
~~
We made a promise !!!!
DIDN'T WE ?
•
( To live in love
For the CHILD's sake )
""
Come
It is UGLY TIME !
Come
There is a TRUTH that shows the way
Let's talk of this and NOTHING else !!
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
This time my minds blank as i search my imagination for meaning seeming like life’s alright tonight with tunes blaring in my ear
Tomorrow is too near to see clear
Find some code or order in this chaos
Put semblance in a sentence and see what sense makes
Pretty pictures emanate from the acid I took years ago flashing back to vivify life if only for a little while
Isn’t that all we have relatively speaking of course
Certainly BoJangles
Get back in your cage Kevin from high school those days are gone and dead!
Only if you let their memories die
Then keep shooting ****** you ******* ******
.................
....
Sorry
I only say it because i dont want to lose you too
I love you bro
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 8:46 PM UTC
You spoke of another time
of true love
of true comedy
of carelessness
of bravery
of less fear
and more care.
Listening to you was a walk along narrow water
with a steady start
but it got denser
Now if spoken
is of prison
of medicine
of sleeplessness
of loneliness
of the cage
of the age
youre suppose to always be there.
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC
(
•
) (
•
)
)
•
(
~~~~~~
Simply free
The million billion names of god
We know who THE CHILD is
"""""""""""""
( Before you leave
You say
your own )
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 6:45 PM UTC
+
0 (?) 0
• •
<>
|
--
In her bright eyes -- every child
--
In this the vast indifference
•
A breeze !
Across the meadow
Only in the mountains
( Far from the suicide )
••
Her and I !
( who could believe ! )
••
One look !
Every single strand !
The wholeness is complete
••
In the high schools of the South
" I love you "
Dribbles from twisted mouths
And leads
To the silent penitentiaries
Where the bodies fornicate on icy sheets !
••
She and I stand
•
I heard a girl say
ALL LOVE IS PAIN
I thought
(... Oh I thought so many things ...)
But anyway
ITS JUST ANOTHER LIE
By which our innocence is denied
••
Every child
In our eyes !
We walk thru the meadow
To the mountains
Come!
( no need to simply wait to die )
Beyond the wars
And the
Suicide
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
(( 0 ))
)) <> ((
( )
:::::
Wings of fire
Heart of golden dreams
Born within
The early days
• •
(( & you were there ))
////
We walk the deserted street of a betrayed world
We say we are looking for love but we usually mean
---- some ****** adventure ---
-••
The cornecopeia has been poisoned
Our ***** !
The seed !
••
We dress in clown clothes
With our big red noses and floppy shoes
We sing
MR BOJANGLES !
But we jump up and just fall down
On our big fat *****
••
We worship our culture and cultural icons
Paying them millions upon millions
Of dollars
Which they use to further enslave us
••
We !
We !
( ( ( we who were born in the early days ) ) )
One with the power
Of all creation
-------^^-------
We walk the deserted streets
Of a betrayed world
••
Then we act surprised that no one is there !
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC