"bop" poems
Danny O'Dare, the dancin' bear,
Ran away from the County Fair,
Ran right up to my back stair
And thought he'd do some dancin' there.
He started jumpin' and skippin' and kickin',
He did a dance called the Funky Chicken,
He did the Polka, he did the Twist,
He bent himself into a pretzel like this.
He did the Dog and the Jitterbug,
He did the **** and the Bunny Hug.
He did the Waltz and the Boogaloo,
He did the Hokey-Pokey too.
He did the Bop and the Mashed Potata,
He did the Split and the See Ya Later.
And now he's down upon one knee,
Bowin' oh so charmingly,
And winkin' and smilin'--it's easy to see
Danny O'Dare wants to dance with me.
10.4k
A normal kind of guy
Just the guy
No cosmologist
Sans Christian
********* the droplet suns
Distant in the blackened sky
Gotta 'and'er some
The bristled gristle
The cryogenic iris
Steel teeth gnashing
Right-toe left
Ardent in an autobiography
Good man
Soft man
Locomoted his GMC
to the Sea
Thought maybe
With precise aim he
could undertow away
paradise.
No pick-me-ups
In copper-channels
That Ionized the pick-up-truck
With archaea iron
that ugly duck
Reminiscent of the man
In all but--
A castaway
Stowaway
The man who never hesitates
Bop upon the interstate
Lost within
concritical maze
Shoring up
Going home
Giving up
Turned to stone
Marble chin
Solumn grin
Chlidren sing
Seeking wings
How'd he know
Where to go
Will he see
What it means?
He's the guy
The one with the lollipop lap
Licking the syrup off the lip
Of a sweet polished sapphire
Gin
And the kids
My god
They think he
ODYSSEUS
And his dog not yet
Dead but depressive in the gloom
Howling into the midnight grass
And the creatures that stalk
With their ******* youth
Soon their weight will hit the deck
And like a noose,
Break the joints
The planks of which would stress
And bend his eyes upon his head.
God willing
Should he be exhumed
His energies excape to the river
And float,
Penultimate,
into the sea.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 5:03 PM UTC
Hear the bass, grace notes race all over the place
Cymbals paced, hi-hats chase, weaving between the bass
The piano - chords struck with wide spanned hands
Poly-rhythmic, multi-layered sounds in strands
The timbre of reed vibrating against warm metal
Precision; a sixth, a ninth and an eleventh interval
A major, a minor scale; a frantic modal sweat
A small sound for mankind; but a truly giant step
Each note slices through the eclectic beat-drop
Singing and whispering this post-modern be-bop
Multi-phonics scream, like controlled feedback
The seductive saxophone – this weapon of attack
The boundary is stretched, new ground broken
The holy saxophone has never thus spoken
And I pay homage, all my deepest respects
Go to the man who made those giant steps
Aug 22, 2011
Aug 22, 2011 at 9:25 AM UTC
Hi, my name is briansies the older sibling, oh yeah
You see I am a bit different to the rest of the world
They like drinking themselves silly, and I simply don't
I want to sleep while others are still out
I never took off to another city at the heat of the moment
Because I worry about what could happen
Instead of actually playing proper sport
I will just settle for backyard sports
And I will enjoy that a lot, oh yeah
My highest score in a single cricket innings is 846 n.o
And I try to keep my score above my younger sibling
And he will say Briansies, what are you doing
And I would say, I just want to be more popular than you
And he would hit me with his rhythm fist, hit me oh yeah hit me
Hit me slowly, man and hit me quick, oh hit me hit me hit me
I would say, do you like hitting me
And he will say, I hit you all night long
I hit you baby, all night long, and if you can't take it, man
You are a baby, waaaa waaaaa waaaaaa
Then I said to him, hi, my name is Briansies, the older sibling, oh yeah
Then me and my sibling, and my father went for an early morning swim
And we body-surfed and splashed each other, yeah we had fun
My sibling would say, this is unfair, and dad would say
Oh, poor little baby, our splashing is making you very tender and weak
Ooh we had better stop, don't you reckon
And I wanted to be a friend to my sibling, so I said
Hi, I am bop, Briansies and I am ready to bop with you, oh baby ooh ooh
I want you to be happy, because I like boppin' around going bop bop bop
And I go right to the shop, yeah, I am bop, the guy down the shop
My sibling will call me a **** but it doesn't bother be, cause my name is
Briansies, the older sibling, oh yeah, and I am so cool, dudes
And that is what we want, just Briansies,
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 2:00 AM UTC
Bop bopa-a-lu a whop bam boom
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
A Bop bopa-lu a whop bam boom
knew a deer named Rudy
had a ruby snooty
knew a deer named Rudy
had a ruby snooty
you see a red light in the air
you knew Rudy was flying there
Bop bopa-a-lu a whop bam boom
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
A Bop bopa-lu a whop bam boom
Couldn't play the reindeer games
Had to hide his nose in shame
Couldn't play the reindeer games
Had to hide his nose in shame
So he chose to run away
Away from where the reindeer play
Bop bopa-a-lu a whop bam boom
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
A Bop bopa-lu a whop bam boom
Went off, with an elf
They went off by themselves
Went off, with an elf
They went off by themselves
Had adventures in the snow
They tried to hide old Rudy's glow
Bop bopa-a-lu a whop bam boom
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
A Bop bopa-lu a whop bam boom
Met a man wantin' gold
And a bumble,in the cold
Met a man wantin' gold
And a bumble, in the cold
Found the land of misfit toys
Waiting for good girls and boys
Bop bopa-a-lu a whop bam boom
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
A Bop bopa-lu a whop bam boom
Found their way to Christmas Town
Santa Claus was feeling down
Found their way to Christmas Town
Santa Claus was feeling down
Santa told the elves I fear
There won't be a Christmas trip this year
Bop bopa-a-lu a whop bam boom
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
A Bop bopa-lu a whop bam boom
Then Santa saw old Rudy's nose
You know how the story goes
When Santa saw old Rudy's nose
You know how the story goes
He led Santa on his flight
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 11:28 PM UTC
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy!
The nose is holy! The tongue and **** and hand
and ******* holy!
Everything is holy! everybody's holy! everywhere is
holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman's an
angel!
The bum's as holy as the seraphim! the madman is
holy as you my soul are holy!
The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is
holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy!
Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy
Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cas-
sady holy the unknown buggered and suffering
beggars holy the hideous human angels!
Holy my mother in the insane asylum! Holy the *****
of the grandfathers of Kansas!
Holy the groaning saxophone! Holy the bop
apocalypse! Holy the jazzbands marijuana
hipsters peace & junk & drums!
Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements! Holy
the cafeterias filled with the millions! Holy the
mysterious rivers of tears under the streets!
Holy the lone juggernaut! Holy the vast lamb of the
middle class! Holy the crazy shepherds of rebell-
ion! Who digs Los Angeles IS Los Angeles!
Holy New York Holy San Francisco Holy Peoria &
Seattle Holy Paris Holy Tangiers Holy Moscow
Holy Istanbul!
Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the
clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy
the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch!
Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the
locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucina-
tions holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the
abyss!
Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours!
bodies! suffering! magnanimity!
Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent
kindness of the soul!
Berkeley 1955
4.3k
His words stitched like rail road ties
through sentiment and simile.
His fingers like slaves to emotions in his brain.
The hum of his instrument,
so rich and so right.
Constructing soundtracks to stories
about what it means to be alive.
Tapping beats from the back of his thigh,
bop-bop, doo-woop.
Turning feeling into vibrations
that shake the walls of the bus station.
What change he got shaking like a tambourine
inside his cardigan pocket.
The gold trim on his six string
shines like a locket under bright orange lights.
I called him the Musician.
his mother called him Bentley.
his father never called,
the streets called him crazy.
His audience passing cars.
Cigarette butts and trashed plastics.
The Musician waxed and waned
as the world kept on passing.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
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 *******
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
jbm
Oakland
3/12/10
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 6:41 PM UTC
Verse 1 (Honey *******
***** I'm Honey ******* bout to bring em some pain.
All my haters like a choir, they all singin my name.
Ain't got a heart for a broad that's the rule of the game.
Now you a fool if you aim.
Ill put a tool to ya brain.
I'm bout to get it and spend it.
If I said it, I meant it.
#FuckYoFeelings. Taste my weapon.
Act like a ***** Ill raise your blessings YOW
You are not familiar with me.
If you come makin a move, ***** yo visitor me
Verse 2 (Tyga):
Its that drop top phenom chop.
All gold rolly top.
**** yo fans, **** a cop.
All my ******* Betty bop.
Betty boop, ******* out.
Gangsta **** punch you in yo mouth.
***** I don't know what you talkin bout.
Flossin now you need dentist now Augh AUGH
**** around and Rodney King the beat.
Bout that war like Vietnamese.
Feelin froggy ***** leap.
I'm that ***** you obsolete.
I'm in that game you know P-T
R-E-C My Swa A-G. Only way you copying me ***** Augh
Verse 3 (Honey *******
Asian ***** on another degree.
Give me some space, move out my place, ***** I'm just tryna breath.
Now if you, see me around your way don't holler at me.
I just can't waste all my time cuz I be eatin these beats.
Listen you rats here just a captain me.
You ain't me homie you just act like me.
Well you should watch yo actions please.
Cuz there might be some casualties Augh augh
They about to witness it. Last Kings but I'm still on my Queen **** SCHWAG
Verse 4 (Tyga):
Aim aim at yo membrane just for sayin
I'm insane and your girl give me neck, Hang man.
I ain't playin, I never did lie.
Lay around and open yo thighs
****** gon pop like fish gonna fry
Nggas talkin greasy like the sh*t got slide WOW
High 5. Clap yo face. Change yo disguise, I work hard for the money. Money don't ever come in yo life.
A ******* right. When you lie, everybody wanna be just like.
Middle finger to the middle of yo eyes.
Young young Ty T-Raw need a Heisman Aaaahh
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC
**** the Police
Coming straight out the underground
Young brother got it bad
Cuz I look Mexican and I'm brown
Can't forget to do diarrhea
on the sheriff deputies
Cuz you wear a uniform and a badge
think you deserve respect like a G
Biggest violaters of civil rights
in the ******* land
take advantage of everybody
cuz you think we're stupid and you can
Where are you going? What's your name? Are you on Probation?
California is not a stop and identify state
How about I cuff your ***
Take you to an alley and let out all my frustration
Am I under arrest?
Or am I free to go is what I ask
Boo bop & slit your throat
come up from behind with a ******* Chucky mask
I'm the worst ******* nightmare
there ever has been
A conscious, Chicano, 5 percenter
Moorish American free national citizen
How about next time you **** one of us
We hunt you down, home invade your family
and launch you all of a cliff in a bus.
Quick to leave a pig bleeding left for dead in a ***** ditch
***** sewed to your mouth, you wanna be me punk *** *****
Or we'll cut your head off
and stick it to a thousand foot pole
start the vampire nation, count Vlad's idea yea I stole.
14th amendment, 85 percenter
corporate security guard
driving a big *** truck with your undersized *****
and you think your all hard, you ******* ******
You're obvious and pathetic
I got no time to play
We don't die we multiply and the movement is here to stay.
Get off me stupid I ain't signing no autographs
Che Guevara reincarnated now who has the last laugh?
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 6:48 PM UTC
The flames be flyin' hot tonight,
so the horns be heatin' up just right!
Skeep-deep-do-bop-bee-bop-do-skeetle-scat-woo-woo, hell-bop-ba-ska-da fra-la-la-la-la-la-la-foo-foo, yous,
look-see-dee-wee-boys doin' da voodoo,
look-see-dee-wee-girls playin' wid hoodoo.
Cuz, I'm a scat-man,
it's a fat fact ma'am!
Yeah, I'm a scat-man,
it's a fat fact ma'am.
And I dun gives a ****
if there's no reason to the scat-plan.
If you come across the fancy bowler hat,
dun be afraid to start stuttering the big skat:
Batta-tat-tat looksee-da-flat-uncool-rat
givin' his square-eyed-glare to-the-scat-cats ~meow~
skee-shee-flyin'-the-sillee like a banshee,
singin' sillee-skee-shee-all-fancee-free -
and we putssss on the br(e)ak(e)s
just
like thissssssss (!)
and
in h a l e ....
Go! Go! GO!
Skeep-deep-do-bop -bee- bop-do-skeetle-scat-woo-woo,
hell-bop ba-ska-da fra-la-la-la-la-la-la-foo-foo,
look-see-dee-wee-boys doin' da voodoo,
look-see-dee-wee-girls playin' wid-hoodoo.
Yeah, I'm a scat-man,
it's a fact ma'am! x2
Yeah, I'm a scat-man,
it's a fact ma'am.
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 6:35 PM UTC
The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you--
Then, it will be true.
I wonder if it's that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem,
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:
It's not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me--we two--you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York, too.) Me--who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records--Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesn't make me not like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?
Being me, it will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white--
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
That's American.
Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, that's true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me--
although you're older--and white--
and somewhat more free.
This is my page for English B.
2.9k
are we really woke as much as we all claim to be?
or are we woke to ease our minds, which ain't reality?
of course we've signaled heavy change, i won't deny that's true
but let me have your ear for now, give you another view
are you really woke because you post a rant on twitter,
but bop to Chris Brown's music even tho we know he hit her?
are you really woke cause you were born into the slums,
but if you make it out,
you forget where you are from?
are you really woke because you claim to love black hair?
but only like the softer textures, is that really fair?
are you really woke 'cause you admire that 4c?
but put down girls who have relaxers, wigs, or wear a weave?
are you really woke because you claim to love all people,
but if ya boy is gay you will denounce him at the steeple?
are you really woke because you say you know what's right,
but ostracize your fellow blacks,
simply cause "they talk white?"
are you really woke because you claim to love all colors,
but date a darker women? yikes! you'd rather find another
are you really woke because you claim you've got insight,
but if i am depressed, you say that mess is for the whites?
i bring up all these issues not because i hate my own
i bring up all these issues just because they're never shown
and if we are to grow and prosper,
thrive and shed our past,
we need to have these conversations,
make sure that they last
Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 1:59 PM UTC
(the birth of Christ - in Gen-Z slang)
Mary and Joseph were tight-ship.
Mary was a real-one, and no clout-chaser
One night Angel Gabriel overstreeted with word
that Cap-G made Mary chabby with soup-baby
Mary was shook and big-mad but Joseph
was baby-goggles for Cap-G’s quinlan fetus
so Mary was “okrrrrrrrrr”
A minute later Mary and Joe had to roll deep,
adulting to Bethlehem with tribute to Augustus,
the main character, but no mo-mo swerved em’
ghetto and asan Mary was Cap-G’s baby-mama!
Later these bchaps rfts biters brang Cap-J
some bag and herb to extra flex for Cap-G
while angels lay in the cut with lowkey bop.
———————- translation
Mary and Joseph were married and in love.
Mary was an average girl not into notoriety
.
One night Angel Gabriel appeared and said
that God made Mary pregnant with his child
Mary was shaken-up and and angry but Joseph
Was excited for them to have God’s beautiful child
so Mary was had no choice but to say “OK”
Months later Mary and Joe had to travel far together,
As citizens, to Bethlehem to pay taxes to Augustus (Caesar).
Emperor of rome, but a lack of motels caused them to
Stay in a manger and there Mary had God’s child.
Later these rich star followers brought Jesus
some money and herb as gifts to impress God
while angels gathered and sang to comfort the child.
Dec 17, 2021
Dec 17, 2021 at 5:14 AM UTC
Thomas, Tommy baby,
you are both hot,
and sweet.
Tom Cat you’re red hot--
when I catch you in your Tom Cat Strut,
sauntering across campus,
strolling like it ain’t no thing,
cuz it don’t meant a thing
if it ain’t got that swing baby.
So dig this, Tommy Gun,
you groove with the best of ‘em
when I spot you strollin’—
Your head, teetering left and right like a seesaw, boppin’ baby,
arms hangin’ loosely, swinging freely, wildly, go! go!
legs scooping forward in boisterous trombone slides--
Groooooove Tommy baby!
You’re Louis’s best blows--
ten feet from the mic and the Fives baby,
you’re hot, red hot,
any closer and I'll burn up!
Go!
But you’re cool, real cool,
and oh so sweet.
Super sweet--
in your beard like a pepper and salt shaker tossed across the table,
I look to see those rosy lips part,
and peep those pearly whites shinin' like the bell of Louis’s cornet
brandished in the air, under those ballroom lights--
you’re screamin’ Tommy!
Let me hear that laugh that shakes the room,
punches like Blakey’s bass drum,
thumps like Mingus--
T-Bird you’ve got that hard bop in your soul,
you’re gonna bop to the top TB,
into the third heaven where the angels fall in line to your swing,
that incessant strut that keeps the devil at bay,
Blow! Blow! Blow!
And I see you now Tom Cat,
up there in the clouds,
digging your way across eternity,
bopping and jiving, swinging and blowing,
in your faded khaki pants and worn tennis shoes,
loosely buttoned collared shirt,
tight rectangular glasses that glistened the bell of your eyes even more--
I gotta stand twenty feet away Tommy baby!
You glance down at me and wink,
rearing your head back to let loose that Mingus and Blakey
bottom-end laugh,
guffaw guffaw guffaw!!!
--so hearty and rich,
the backbone of every nervous first-year classroom,
and the sniggering seniors you continued to befuddle and dazzle
with your mysterious ways
and insatiable swing.
So blow, Tommy Gun, blow!
Go Tom Cat go!
Dig T-Bird dig!
Let loose Tommy boy!
Swing for us, swing swing swing--
Hot and Sweet, Tommy baby,
hot and sweet.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 1:55 AM UTC
Becky turns on her radio
It’s 4’oclock you see
Says she’s got a date with just me
Her Keds dazzled in red
With thoughts of Psychedelic Furs in her head
Thomas headin home
On the floor of ole truck lies his 80s comb
Hasn’t seen old school in years
The thought brings him to tears
Michael’s on a break
Wants to take time by the lake
Thinkin about Sarah
And that iconic leg warmer era
When she hadn’t worn waterproof mascara
Sarah walkin thru the old store
Hears em say, vintage is a good score
Records musty smell
Makes her feel swell
Polaroid on a shelf
Drifts back to a time of her younger self
Instant prints
Memory hints
Friends together
In spring weather
High school dance
Parachute pants
Puffy sleeve print
Tubular and mint
Neon color
Teenage pustalar
This much is true
With a Converse shoe
Glares, stares and dares
Waves in their hair
Synth-pop
They bop
First crush
They blush
Friendship pins
Shy grins
Floppy disks
The unsaved risks
Laughs enter
In present time
Fallen purse
Fate or curse
Hand holds out a dime
Blank look
Like a old good book
Mumble jumble
Who do you see
lookin back at me
In a flash
It all goes past
Familiar face
Of time & place
If you leave
No one would believe
Together again
It was then
When they remembered when
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 10:20 PM UTC
If you wanna be the same,
be the same with me --
I swear we’ll always
blend right in.
And when you say
you don’t like Jaws,
I'll still be a Peeping Tom
behind your books.
When you lie, Maggie-Pie,
about the movies you’ve seen,
it makes the Tom Waits you like
seem contrived.
Degenerate drug kids,
too high to be a star,
in love with moments.
Give me my moments,
my lifeless promise
to always have a car
and insurance.
If you wanna be lazy,
be lazy with me --
I swear we won’t
ever do ****
And when you bop
your head to Kendrick,
I’ll watch you melt
underneath the strobe.
Place your finger on a globe,
tell me where you think
you could be, then tell me
about your perceived
self-worth.
Degenerate punk kids,
with more ink than squids,
and a tip-jar future.
Give me my future,
my hurried ten years;
you know my twenties;
you know my reason.
Give me my reason,
give me my reason, give me my reason.
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 3:44 AM UTC
The surgeons listened to jaunty be
bop while they cut through his cranium.
A metal plate was inserted,
dissecting memories and thoughts,
causing confusion between
his now and then.
He left hospital with a funny taste in his mouth
which he could not name
or shake.
During the period of convalescence
his children tried to cheer him up
by attaching fridge magnets to his head.
a cow, a banana, the Tower of London,
a badge reminding them to Give Blood.
One fridge magnet secured in place a drawing,
reminding him of childhood pictures which were
seventy five percent blue sky
and twenty five percent thick
bands of green grass
and all the family stood outside
where sunflowers were bigger than houses.
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 1:04 PM UTC
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
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
Duke said,
“People pray in many different languages
and God hears them all.”
I’m equally a Jew and Muslim,
both living in perfect peace within me.
I’m a little bit Baptist and a little bit Episcopal.
I yearn to swim in the living waters,
and hunger for the cup and bread.
I’m more of a Quaker then a Buddhist.
Only because I’m American and I can’t speak good Chinese yet.
But Buddha’s Lamp is my constant companion,
illumining my every step in this dark world.
I’m also equally composed of east and west Indies
and sometimes even druid.
The Great Spirit and Tantric arts
remain mysteries to me.
I only know them by feeling.
And yes our Afro Heritage.
The drums, the whistle, the dance,
synchronizes our heart beat
to The Beneficent One’s finger taps.
Yes we celebrate The Holy Spirit
with cymbal, voice and drum.
I am a full dues paying member
to the 2nd Hoboken Chapter
of the Unitarian Universal Catholic Church Respectively.
We meet down the block from Sinatra’s Synagogue.
We are all apostles and responsible
for our small spaces that we rent here on earth.
I know I’m 100% Zoroastrian.
I am mesmerized by the fire.
My heart aches for the light.
I tend tiny candles
and listen for the lonely fire
of Coltrane’s sax.
I’m a nun and
a Thelonious Monk.
We run an inn for weary and lost travelers.
We build hospitals to cure the infirm;
and schools to teach the golden rule of love.
We try to do things differently.
Dizzy practiced the Behai faith.
“OOM BOP SHE BAM” I pray.
Music Selection:
Dizzy Gillespie,
Swing Low Sweet Cadillac
jbm
Oakland
12/26/98
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 8:29 AM UTC
WSQF:
Battle of the Bands
tonight we jam, it's the battle of the bands
there's smoke on the stage ***** on the stands
smoke in the rafters, from puffin live
this crowd is ready to rock and jive
AB:
One guitar in hand,
Calling you out animantium plans,
Of having rocktastic fans,
Tattoos and silver lens,
Naked babies,
Naked babies,
Naked babies.
WSQF:
this joint is rockin'
and we be jammin'
some slam dance ritual
and hip hop breakin'
who's gonna take it?
who's gonna take it?
alright...take it to the bridge!
AB:
There is no stoppin what we doin,
Do you smell us when were cookin,
Serving you a hot plate this funkalicious music,
Some old skool flava,
Let us see if you can take it,
All you gotta bop it , move it ,break it,
WSQF:
gonna run some crazy riffs across your brain
sweet heavy metal ..drive you insane
step up the action
raise the stakes
let's see if you got what it takes
AB:
Lead guitarist,
Got a jazzy a vocal,
Bass solos and drums knockin in your ear holes,
Fresh lyrics on a platter,
Cut up nicely,
In to pieces of rock heaven,
Its time to get godly,
WSQF:
home boyz gonna kick it
take it to the next plateau
while your jammin'...face dancer
play those licks real slow
the soul of creation
right there in your hands
this pure fusion..the battle of the bands!
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
Grow Up- Learn your ABC's
-Tic Tac Toe & 1-2-3
Hopscotch, bop-bop, twinkle toes
Head, shoulders, knees & elbows
In It- Trying THC
Just to ***** authority
LSD to open eyes-
Though it was made by FBI
Till birds are mocking
Walls are talking
Brain is botched
So hops & scotch
Jingo Jango in your glass
Your only present is the past
When everything has gone deluded
Spirits drink your spinal fluid
Should have thought Outside the Box
But stayed inside your mental locks
Cause Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
Is now a Soul put behind bars
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 11:16 PM UTC
Love:
laying bricks in a line
or a least a lie with N
monotony. Standing in line, at the end,
until the begin
NEXT!
...ing.
Pretending, that was doing something.
Like a verb, perturbing, unsettling.
Cold air is causing nerve ending
stand
NEXT!
...up. Back of the neck rub
Trapped like a spider in a covered tub.
Seems wide till the world opens wide and there's a snub
from the passing yacht club as it crashes into the hub.
Now aren't you glad you got grub instead of a ticket
NEXT!
...stub? Chop and bop.
Hop on the bed, called Dr. Suess' pop.
Lets swap places. Straighten the tie, I am a flop
fop. Harvesting their crop of heads. Onomatopoeia plop
NEXT
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 1:19 AM UTC
I was born wrapped in a black body bag.... They call that foreshadowing...so to lighten my appearance they try to remember me as a white outline.. chalked......upon asphalt.... and say it was this *** fault.... I was only known as an A...4.0 but I never made the cut... as I got my first F....Foolish Acts....Of being born Black... Or Incomplete...As I lay holed in the street...I hate the facts...that I will be a nigga...even tho I know better...But my Ipod teaches me to ***** better... to be a NWA....a ***** with Attitude.... Not a NWP....a Negus With Pride... So I walk in stride... influenced like my ancestors... by music...rhythm and beats... See the devil knows what you'll bop to... rock to... So he muffled the sounds of Love and Peace...and Boosted the way of the streets... hoods.. and Lifeless... So that You would automatically see me as ratchetness... When I could have grew to be the very definition of peace... Now I'm just another problem... and you'll never see me as a victim... only the agitator...because You've listed to the same beats, watched the same feeds and ingested all the fabrications as truths...They have taken it to far making the stereotypes WorldStars And All I ever did was become what you wanted me to be in the first place....A Pale Lifeless outline of white Dust....That you will inhale without justice... #IamBrown
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC