miss those nights
at my moms
listening quietly to
Jazz on player
when only dial-up
night till morning
fills me up
made a man
out of me
Joe Henderson
Sonny Stitt
Gene Ammons
Dave Brubeck
Freddie Hubbard
Wes Montgomery
Pat Martino
George Benson
Sonny Greenwich
Luiz Bonfá
Joey DeFrancesco
Jimmy Smith
Milt Jackson
Oliver Jones
Marcus Roberts
Ellis Marsalis
Gonzalo Rubalcaba
John Coltrane
Ravi Coltrane
Dexter Gordon
Sonny Rollins
Miles Davis
Julian  "Cannonball" Adderley
Clifford Brown
Rahsaan Roland Kirk
Stan Getz
Donald Byrd
Wardell Gray
Lester Young
Paul Chambers
Charlie Haden
Max Roach
Louie Bellson
Art Blakey
Charlie Parker
Thelonious Monk
Charles Mingus
Wayne Shorter
Les McCann
Johnny Hartman
Mel Tormé
Cassandra Wilson
Billy Holiday
Jacqueline Johnson
Chris Connor
Carmen McRae
René Marie
Etta Jones
Norah Jones
Claire Martin
Sarah Vaughan
Dinah Washington
are many more
have collected since
half my CDs
are all Jazz
Here I am on the hedge,
Amidst the forest of doubt,
One who've sworn not to pledge,
Proudly wear my shroud.

There's night in my head
And smoke in my guts,
Nothing's clear to my mind,
Porcelain is my heart.

With a black tooth grin
Bear mysery crown
With my soul in the wind
And my faith in the ground.

Eyes - by chance fallen leaves
Under the bushes of eyebrows,
Fulvous brown and grass green
Hidden in the shrubs' shadows.

Dead pale skin covers me,
Brown ivy curls down my shoulders.
There's blue blood in my veins
And I greet you, beholder.

Childly mushy cheeks
Rubbed by claws of white,
Full of shudder twists
Hope to thrill your mind.

Preying on your smiles,
Drinking up your breaths.
Forgive me for a while
Lack of wings on my back.
Rhea Sheilah Jun 2015
oh! how cute you are
with that round brown pupil
I fall in love always
when you roll back
and catch me as i steal a glance

window of the soul
the most beautiful of all
like the sky oculus
the early February moon..
Brown eye are breathe taking,sometimes I admire them and wish i had  them forgetting that i actually do
why do i crumble
fall into pieces of
oats and sugar
something beautiful
in a white bowl, but
a mess on the floor
when i wake up
in an empty house
why do i wither like
brown leaves
under brand new and
borrowed boots atop
autumn sidewalks
when i’m alone,
i’m alone,
i’m alone
it is not enough
to eat breakfast
however small
to wash my hair with
coconut milk
to not step out into
the busy street;
i freeze before the ice
touches me
i do not allow
the chance to warm
my own hands
i lie down, on
dirty sheets,
and wait for someone
to awaken me
Jeff Gaines Mar 27
The leaves …
have all turned brown.

Once …
green in the wind,
now scattered upon the ground.

The branches …
like cold aching bones.

They creak and whistle
in that wind …
lonely and alone.

The air …
all wings having fled for the sun.

Skies and forests once filled …
now empty.
Not a stir to be heard … not even one.

Snow …
as a desert without life.

Water has become like stone,
as is a man
without a wife.

Monochrome vistas … everywhere you gaze.
Ethereal …
like this swirling mist that is my very breath.

Peaceful, stark beauty …
found only during Winter …
standing in stoic contempt … of all it's magnific death.
A bit of a cryptic/metaphorical piece.
It is about the things I've seen during winter.
But I've taken those elements and scenes and metaphorically turned them into elements of myself and my life ...
My accomplishments and experiences, my inner self, my friends and family, even my heart ... and how I can still be strong and even content as I enter this time ... still finding beauty in it all.
But, it is also about me facing the winter of my life.
Hello swans with your brown signets wading
On the near edges where the weeds blend
And the green meets the trusted stoney bed
You frightened a little with those huge wings
The strength to kill if fear struck an orange eye.

The ducks and drakes trailing fluffy ducklings
So linger daring the hands of bread and biscuits
A continuity of return until fat and bloated, stop.
Their tail feathers sharing a twitching line march
As they swim back to the safety of the reed beds.

Love Mary
tempest Jul 2
i want to know somebody

know every detail of their life events
i want to blow the candles on their first birthday
lick the stamp on the first letter they sent

i want to share and be shared intimately

from my brown skin into my core
i want to wrap around his member and see his eyes ask mine for more

i want to nearly bleed to death

over how much I’m able to give
over how much I might withstand if it meant my love would live

because i think people are meant to be shared with one another, tied in an infinitesimal amount of ways; tumbling as one.
© tempest p
My type is tall,
My type is dark hair-
My type is kind,
My type is brown eyes,

My type is witty, with a smile so clean,
A smile so natural a smile so wide-
Not sure what it was, I must've implied,
But I'm sure of it now, I must firstly confide-
My feelings for you, I need not must hide,
If your name was Bonnie, then I'd be your Clyde
Hey, Trump,
What did you do with that brown-skinned baby?
You turned him over to Gringo adoptive parents.
If they're racist,
They might decide to kill the child.
Better find his real mamma,
But what did you do with her?
Might have sent her back to El Salvador.
Better do some DNA testing
And  figure out who this child really belongs to.
Since we're "Fiscal Conservatives",
We'll  have to spend
Oodles and oodles of money,
To find a solution
To this problem
That we created!
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