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Jim Brady was a local man
His life was non-descript
He was not on local radar
In fact, he was a blip
He moved around but no-one knew
Just who Jim Brady was
they knew not where he came from
They didn't know his flaws
He worked under the table
He wasn't on the grid
But of all the money that Jim made
He gave most to his kids
He worked nights at Giannis
In the kitchen, ***** stuff
He cleaned up after closing
The work here...it was tough
But Jim, worked hard and honest
Earned his money every day
And Gianni, as a favour
Off the records he would pay
Jim Brady was a soldier
He was broken...and no good
But Gianni, saw his life light
And he did what all men should
He gave Jim work and fed him
Kept him clean and made a life
For Jim had come home injured
But it was internal strife
Jim's mind was torn and tattered
Simple thoughts could cause him pain
Jim Brady was a soldier
But would never serve again
He had trouble with his anger
He was not quite in control
But Gianni saw a soldier
Who needed help out of a hole
Gianni ran a restaurant
Been there for 30 years
He helped all those who knew him
Through the smiles and the tears
He housed the ones who needed
Just to get off of the streets
He fed the tired and hungry
And he performed other feats
Gianni was a hero
To all in this poor town
He would never turn a man away
If he knew that he was down
When Jim came in one evening
Gianni read his face
He said "Son, I'll help you"
"And you're now working in this place"
Jim lived by the water
The noises kept him calm
But on nights of wild weather
He stay at Giannis, nice and warm
Loud noises brought the nightmares
Put the pictures in his head
Of the IED explosion
And of his three companions dead
He went to get some treatment
But the VA said "You're fine"
"there's more important cases
than just you out in the line"
He was shuffled home to start again
A damaged, broken man
But with issues like poor Jim did have
He tried as one man can
His marriage broke down quickly
His wife was not to blame
But Jim came home with issues
And the **** war was to blame
He looked for help at every turn
But no-one would help out
Until he met Gianni
Jim's new hero I won't doubt
He gave him work and money
Jim then gained some self esteem
He wasn't Jim the soldier
But, you could see who he had been
His pride was back, his head was high
But still he had the dreams
There was nothing that they knew of
To alleviate the screams
But Gianni, still the hero
Thought "I know what might just work"
He introduced Jim to The Bluesman
He also has a minor quirk
The Bluesman as you seem to know
Lives out behind and plays
His music in the alley
Where he spends most of his days
Gianni helped The Bluesman
Maybe he could now help Jim
It could be The Bluesman's music
Might just be right for him
Most nights when Jim was working
He'd leave the window open some
Just to let Bluesman's music
Find the kitchen . make Jim hum
Jim liked The Bluesman's music
It painted pictures in his head
But this time they were joyful ones
Not pictures of the dead
They helped him come to terms with things
That made his life a mess
They did what others couldn't do
His problems were addressed
With Gianni and The Bluesman
Jim moved on and did quite well
Funny how a restauranteur
And music man could bring Jim back from hell.
On Christmas Eve, the street was dead
Most folks were home or gone
The buildings all were empty
That is, except for one

Gianni kept the lights on
As he did most every night
To let the people of the street
Know that everything's all right

Gianni's was a haven
A safe house for the street
The residents were welcome
And there was always a free seat

On Christmas Eve, though magic...
would take place inside the back
For each Christmas Eve at midnight
They'd get more than Santa with his sack

Precisely at the hour
When Christmas Day became the date
The house lights dimmed just slightly
As if by magic, or by fate

There on stage with Gianni
Sat the Bluesman and a band
Some only played this concert
It was the best one in the land

Hymns and Christmas carols
Sung like angelic odes of joy
And as always ...there's the Bluesman
Smiling, looking just a little coy

You never knew his secrets
There was always more than he would show
And most folks would pay a fortune
To know just what this man did know

Holy, Holy, Holy,
and songs from years gone by
were mixed with hymns that grabbed your heart
and made most folks there cry

It was invitation only
Just the folks from on the street
The locals didn't post it
It was kept quiet.... indiscreet

He played for near three hours
His little band of odds and sods
Singing songs of Christmas
Singing songs to God

He always had his med-sin
that small flask was by his side
And Gianni, every watchful
made sure it never did go dry

The Bluesman, stopped the concert
the room was quiet, all subdued
And everyone just sat there
I swear, not one person moved

He opened up the window
Pointed to the brightest light
He said "another saviour may be born"
"And it may just be tonight"

It was on a night like this my friends
That Mary did give birth
When Jesus Christ, our saviour
was given life right here on earth

My music sends a message
To all, both near and far
The same message was sent years ago
By one bright shining star

Gianni, led them all outside
And they stared into the sky
Silent Night indeed, Gianni thought
And then the Bluesman bid goodbye

He went back through the kitchen
To where he slept most winter nights
Where Gianni, gave him refuge
You know it's safe....from the bright lights.......
Gianni watched the clouds move in
Closed his window for the rain
It was spring and that meant
That it was gonna storm again

He looked out at the street outside
He saw a man turn and walk away
"Better get himself inside"
"Looks like a nasty one today"

The man looked at Gianni's
But his mind was down the road
His hair was wet from the rain
He carried a large load

A block on up from Gianni's
Past the bookstore "Broken Spines'
Was an old white clapboard building
That had sure seen better times

In true New England style
It had shutters painted blue
It had lived a hundred lifetimes
It was nothing short of new

The man walked to the building
Looked around and walked inside
It was dark, and it was scary
A place for lost souls to reside

Gianni never watched him
He had already killed the light
Except the one saved for the Bluesman
To help him safely through the night

Out back of old Gianni's
The Bluesman hunkered down
His box was lifted on four skids
In rain like this he'd surely drown

He looked out at Gianni's
Smiled at the light left on
He knew the street was vacant
Everybody was now gone

The man stood in the building
Looked around for what he sought
He couldn't find the thing he searched for
So his visit was for nought

The building creaked and whispered
Echoed voices from the past
From workers and from sailors
Who's lives were spent with sail and mast

Once it was a tavern
Then a house of ill repute
For years it was a hostel
For the lost and destitute

I guess it's come full circle
A place for homeless and for *****
A place to find redemption
A place for that and more

The man took off his jacket
Ran his hand through his wet hair
Said a silent prayer to Jesus
Even though no one was there

He set to work the next morning
Cleaning up and setting straight
He went on out for say, an hour
To get some wood to fix the gate

Trucks came down the alleyway
Woke the Bluesman as they passed
They were all on their own mission
The trucks drove by so fast

The man stood at the entrance
Gave directions to the men
It was happening so quickly
It was nearly ten to ten

Boxes and some benches
Tables, chairs and things
Were now scattered in the building
On up from where the bluesman sings

The man walked up the alley
The bluesman was in form
He was singing to a ferral cat
In the sunshine getting warm

The man looked at the bluesman
Stopped and listened with a smile
Then he ventured over to him
"God, it's been a while"

"How you doing Father?"
"I see you've made your way to town"
"I"ve got some medcin in my thermos"
"Why don't you rest and sit yourself down?"

"You know I've missed you Bluesman"
""The way you sing just fills my soul"
"I've been empty since you left us"
"Your voice, helps make me whole"

The Bluesman and The Father
Tied together through the word
A pair just so unlikely
You'd not believe it if you heard

"I've moved in to the building"
"Up the block, I'm sure you know"
"I know it" said the Bluesman
"I go inside to miss the snow"

"Well, we're opening on Sunday"
"As a respite from the street"
"We're looking for some people"
"To come on out and meet"

"I'll have coffee, and some biscuits"
"I'll introduce myself and talk"
"I need to ask a favour"
The the two went for a walk

"I need you there on Sunday"
"You know it is your choice"
"I'm not going to preach religion"
"I only want you for your voice"

"I know you believe what you do"
"You follow what you know"
"I'm not asking as a preacher"
"Just a friend, from long ago"

He pulled the Bluesman to him
Higged him close then walked away
Then he went back to the building
Lots to do in there today

The Bluesman walked a little
Tooked  his flask off of his hip
Then he pulle the stopper from it
And then he took a good long sip

Twice more he stopped on his way back
His past was now just up the street
He grabbed his old guitar and then
The Bluesman took a seat

He didn't know just what to do
His past was now right here
The Father was his mentor
Someone he held so dear

Sometime back, and somewhere else
The Bluesman broke a trust
He'd broke a promise to him
He turned his golden word to rust

It was two days until Sunday
The Bluesman just sat and played
And in the building on the corner
The man, worked hard and prayed

There was a sign in front, fresh painted
Saying "Welcome, one and all"
"Services this Sunday"
"In our large, cold, meeting hall"

Sunday came so quickly
A few folks slowly wandered in
Not so much to see the preacher
But, to see the house of sin"

The preacher walked among them
Shaking hands and drinking tea
It was still a work in progress
That was surely plain to see

In the middle of the morning
There was twenty folks or so around
The silence of the morn was broken
By an old familiar sound

In the alley on an old crate
Sat The Bluesman singing songs
Hymns, of all that's holy
How to right all of man's wrongs

In the doorway stood the preacher
As the crowd passed by his side
He listened to The Bluesman
And he opened the doors wide

"I guess we'll meet out here today"
"We have a show for all to hear"
"The gospel from The Bluesman"
"A voice I've always held so dear"

Now, on Sunday's if you're lucky
If all the stars give you a sign
You might come and find the Bluesman
Singing to God, he starts at nine
Frankie Gestone Feb 2018
By: Frankie and Christine

He knew as soon as she walked out the door that he would never see her again. His heart sunk down into his stomach as he realized the only thing left to survive on are the memories of her. Fists clenched, blood pulsing through his veins, he set out for the only place that had ever made him feel sane--the docks. He kneeled down, head facing the water, he saw her reflection over his as his memory tasted her cherry lips. She whispered to him, something distant and vague that he couldn’t decipher. Confused, he nervously reached into his pocket, and the key to her apartment flew out and into the water- he had forgotten he previously stole it from her room. “What did she just say?” he wondered.

His palms sweating, and hands shaking, he reached for his cell phone anticipating a call or text any minute now. He contemplated giving her a call, searched for her name in his Contacts List, and realized that her name was no longer there. “The nerve,” Gianni thought, “how dare she erase her number from my **** phone? Now what am I going to do? Well, it’s better if she contacts me first anyway.”

Days passed and no phone call from Gabriella. Frantically biting his nails, he figured by now she has already moved on with another lucky guy, while he has been completely erased from her heart and mind- what a bitter cold thought how cruel life can really be. “Honestly, though, wouldn’t she at least want her key back?” he asked himself as the bitter cold swept upon his raw, cracked cheek. “And furthermore, how the hell did she get back into her apartment? No one else was home,” he tried to think rationally.

Gianni needed answers, and despite feeling crazy, he ventured back to the neighborhood where their love once was shared--would she be home? For what felt like an eternity, he ran towards her home, but he slowed down once he reached the door face-to-face suddenly feeling hesitant to ring her bell. Fingers quivering, he slowly pressed the small, black button. His body aching with the thought of the worst possible outcome, he turned around and slunk out before he could even see if there was a response.

Gianni found himself sitting on a bench a few blocks away, lonely and insecure. He looked at the time on his watch, it was 8:45 pm. He exhaled-it was so cold, he could see his breath -and in the vapor, he saw the image of Gabriella’s face. Then, the phone suddenly rang in his pocket- he reached hoping to see her mystical number again, but it was his mother calling for dinner.

He made his way back home, through side streets that he hadn’t ventured in years, finally to come home to see Gabriella in her baby blue peacoat waiting for him outside his stoop. There, he saw her, standing with open arms and a smile awaiting his presence. He walked towards her, but as soon as he put his arms around her embrace, she disappeared like the cold vapor from his breath- it was a dream- it was all just a dream.

“Was it a dream though?” he thought to himself, “or am I hallucinating? Is there a difference?”

The food on the table repulsed him and he could not eat any of it- it was steak and mashed potatoes again. He felt an urge to *****. There was a knock at the door, which jolted him in his seat and shook him to his core. He ran down the stairs to open to the door, only to find, Raymond, the UPS man, delivering a package that he needed to sign for. To his surprise, the return address was from New Mexico with just the name “Moretti” on the upper-lefthand corner--Gabriella’s last name.

He hesitated if he should open up the package, but his hands were opening the box before he could think again and he found two blue onyx gemstones with a note. “Gianni---the night we last spoke, I impulsively packed my bags and hopped on the very next plane to New Mexico. Maybe one day we will meet again and I will feel for you what I once felt. Have a wonderful life.”

His heart stopped, and he remembered how they used to just spend some summer evenings on the floor of her bedroom listening to Mother Nature’s Son by The Beatles from the White Album- a tear dropped from his left eye onto the backside of his dry hand like a raindrop onto a cracked drought ground. Humming along to that tune, he Googled what blue onyx gemstones are used for. These stones are especially good for people under mental and emotional stress and they are said to improve one's intuition and natural instincts, eliminate bad habits, give the strength for and to change, and to experience an overall feeling of inner rejuvenation.

“Guess she’s trying to tell me something,” he thought. He felt so dead inside and wondered how could she have left during the lowest and weakest point in his life. Tossing and turning all night in his bed, he remembered how he was once told how people put crystals underneath their pillows at night. Why not give it a shot? He put the two gemstones underneath his pillow, laid his tired head down on the cold side of the pillow, and suddenly drifted into a dream.

Up floating in the cosmos, Gabriella appeared to him surrounded by a baby blue light, the same shade as her peacoat. He began elevating up towards her level as he looked into her aquamarine sky eyes, as if it were her eyes that elevated him, and then he began swimming in the air with the pink fish and the violet dolphins. Then shades of orange, amber, metallic green, silver, and gold swam in circles around his soul, while a mirror came down in front of him and he saw his reflection of half black and white. All in the background surrounding him were various shades of gray. Gianni then began to hear Gabriella sing their cosmic song and suddenly he now could understand what her mirage had once whispered to him at the docks: We are timeless and you are now here, not with me but as me, inside me. Let go and burn out like the flame in the wind. You are nowhere. You are we. We are both the lock and the key.
Love, Dreams, Colors, Blue Onyx, Heaven, Hell, Peace, Surrealism, Universe
The Street is pretty empty
Just the locals out tonight
It's New Year's Eve and chilly
Seems this time, that all is right

No drunken revelers on the Street
All the buildings are shut tight
Except the bar and Gianni's place
On the Street, that's just alright

The Blues Man sits out back right now
And he's looking at the moon
No fireworks, or crystal *****
Say the New Year's coming soon

He coughs a bit, a little harsh
Grabs his medcin, and guitar
then he gently starts to playing
Looking at a single star

There's a few folks in Giannis
Watching the ball drop on tv
The bar is full of locals
Where the New Year's shots are free

But out back of Gianni's
The Blues Man sits in peace
Singing gently to the midnight sky
Sitting besides the drums of grease

This year he found his daughter
Memories of years gone by
And he sings tales of their meeting
To the chilly, midnight sky

His daughter is his lodestone
She keeps him grounded, always did
No matter where he ventured
He always loved his missing kid

She's drinking at the bar now
While The Blues Man sits out back
Singing tunes in Winter Darkness
He lets us in...but just a crack

The door behind Gianni's
Is open, just a bit
It's open for the Blues Man
To go get warm and sit

But, for now, he sits here playing
As the New Year ventures in
He sings songs about redemption
And he drinks his medcin

An hour in and locals
Leave Gianni's and the bar
They venture to the alley
Where he's playing to that star

They join him in silence
Hear his prayer for the year new
They are swept up in his magic
And let him do what he must do

He smiles and keeps on singing
Fills the night air with his voice
For no matter how his life is
He only had one choice

He's the Blues Man, always will be
He's the teller of the tales
He sings songs out in the alley
He's the wind in the Street's sails

He finishes his last song
His daughter standing, smiling wide
She gives him a kiss upon his forehead
And she ushers him aside

He'll wake up again tomorrow
In the alley, cold but free
That's the life of The Street Blues Man
And that's the way ...that it should be.
Back behind Gianni's
There was no one to be found
The alleyway was quiet
You could not hear a sound

The frost had not yet burned off
The alleyway was wet
The deliveries had not been made
No one was moving yet

In the sky  a rarity
Both sun and moon were out
But seen by just night creatures
Since no one was about

The back window to Gianni's
Opened to where Jim slept
There was garbage in the doorway
Since it had not yet been swept

The moon was getting lower
The sun just in the sky
The silence was then broken
By a blackbird flying by

The bird woke up the Bluesman
with his early morning call
And he watched the Bluesman set up
Perched up high upon a wall

The Bluesman had his guitar
Wiped some moisture off  his crate
Another blackbird landed
A rat peeked out from a drain grate

The Bluesman started playing
Singing low, just barely heard
More animals were showing up
And they took in every word

His medicine beside him
In a flask, engraved "For Dad"
His voice was smooth and smoky
You could hear him, just a tad

More birds came for the concert
More rats, some squirrels too
No humans yet were moving
In the early morning dew

He sang as he was known too
To no one special, just the sky
Songs of revelation
Songs of watching people die

The small flock that had gathered
Watched The Bluesman, moved a bit
As he took sips from his medicine
Not a single song...a hit

The world was just now waking
But The Bluesman didn't care
He was doing what he always did
Singing softly to the air

Normally, the street would fill
As word would spread around
That the Bluesman was out playing
But, today...no one was found

The window to Gianni's
Let Jim lie in bed and dream
That he heard the Bluesman singing
In his room, on a sun beam

The birds all flew away at once
The was movement in behind
Life was coming to the street
Where at night the vermin dined

The Bluesman packed his kit up
Snuck away from the day light
To sleep and rest his weary bones
To venture forth again that night

The rats went to the sewers
The birds had flown away
The squirrels, they were also gone
And the street began it's day

Jim looked out his window
The alley empty, no one thee
Where while Jim thought he was dreaming
The Bluesman sang songs to the air

An early morning concert
Full of music, 'neath the sun
A concert heard by many
A concert just for one
Martin Bailes Mar 2017
For a brief ...
so, so brief ...

a tiny sliver
of a moment
this early
Monday
morn,

young Gianni Rage
considered a,
how shall I put it ...
less ruthless,
less uncompromising,
less just plain truthful,
critique of our
oh so esteemed
Great Leader,

but then that
faint & distant murmur
at the far, far edge of his heart
was quickly silenced,
as he recalled
dying Syrian children,
emboldened White Supremacists,
fearful crop-workers,
deeply nervous Muslims,
irremediably insulted
black folks,

& his pen became
his sword once
more & all
was right
once again
with the world.

Gianni Rage is a wordsmith on FB, pay a visit why not.
Bunhead17 Nov 2013
[Intro:]
'Sace, 'sace
'Knock one, 'knock one
Mustard on the beat, **

[Hook:]
Shirt, shirt by Versace
***** you better **** sumn
**, Hoes wanna knock one
***** you better **** sumn
Shirt, shirt by Versace
***** you better **** sumn
**, Hoes wanna knock one
***** you better **** sumn

[Verse 1: Kirko Bangz]
I just bought a shirt for tonight, **
And it cost five-hundred (Better **** sumn!)
I seen a bad ***** at the light, oh!
My car cost two-hundred (Better **** sumn!)
Uh, got 'Sace on the chain
Louis, that's my side **. Versace, that's my main
'Sace in the car so that's 'Sace in the lane
All day I dream about Versace on the linen
****** at work and now she bugging me. Versace John Lennon.
I only want the ***** if she expensive
**** the ** in Versace, had some boojie *** children
Doing what I’m suppose to do
I'm in Versace my ****** they in 'Sace too
Ain't no fun unless we all get some
If I'm *******, then my ******, they ******* too

[Hook:]

[Verse 2: French Montana]
Hundred-Thou' what I'm buying here?
Talking lion head (***** better **** sumn!)
Hundred-Thou' on these Cuban Links.
Medusa Face (***** better **** sumn!)
And my shirt eight-hundred
And just copped a honey (***** better **** sumn!)
These bottles they hundred
I just copped a hundred (Man, ***** better **** sumn!)
Got syrup by the liter. *****. Homie, Ima beat it
Catch the ***** like Jeter haa
Picture a ***** balling the ***** get to calling
******* get to fallin
Kamikaze. Shirt by Versace
Know my diamonds flash paparazzi
Give a **** about a hater
I be getting to the paper
**** ***** get your weight up haa

[Hook:]

[Verse 3: YG]
It's YG 400!
Shirt Versace, ******* is a hobby
I love a ***** that **** **** so sloppy
In high school she was a **
Hundred dollar bills on the floor
***** you better **** sumn!
And that's straight up
I prefer a bad ***** with no make-up
I got my cake up. Ya'll playas say sumn
I'm never paying for ***** and I'm never going bankrupt
My shirt's Versace. ***** red like Rudolph
Try to rob me I'll **** back that shooter
Trying to count how many ******* ***** I ate
Why you do that? Cuz I love how it taste. Ooo!
Me and Kirko on that purple
Geeked up like Urkel
Middle fingers in the air I don't trust you *******
Spent my money on me so I can ******* *******. Ooo!

[Hook:]

[Verse 4: G-Haze]
Got a shirt by Gianni
In your main ** that's where you can find me
Why these haters want to mean mug me
Cuz I'm coming down clean and they ******* wanna **** sumn
Trick you better **** sumn
Stepped in the party make a ***** wanna cuff sumn
Po-Po that's a No-No
Give me Ocho-Cinco!
Uhh, **** that ****** by Versace when I hit from the back
She gon' call me "Papi" while she sit up on my lap
Sip syrup lean and I got it from the trap
But I ain't a dope boy
Shirt by Versace got me feeling like a coke boy
Gold grillz, gold chain, LMG be the game
***** you better **** sumn!
i Love this song... lyrics "Shirt by Versace" By: Kirko Bangz ft French Montana, GHaze, & YG.
Rumours were flying all around
Someone was moving in
They question at the table was
Just how long has it truly been?

Windows boarded, papered over
Not a good sign most times
But, there in the shop window
Coming soon "Broken Spines"

The street folks all were questioned
By other street folks who
knew nothing of the tenant
On the whole, nobody knew

The Bluesman worked the alleys
finding out just what he could
But, in the end, he came up empty
And here, empty was not good

The building had been vacant now
For at least ten years plus four
It was at least the old millenium
Since someone used that door

The building was a shoe store
Selling discount boots and shoes
A new tenant or an owner
Gave the street some cherished news

The bartender told the others
She tried to see in on her way
But, the window was well covered
That was all she had to say

No one knew the agent who
Brokered the deal at all
They were surprised someone was coming
Most new stores went to the mall

Cy, the Pawnbroker ventured
It must be a medics shop
No one understood the name
And the questions wouldn't stop

A young woman in the corner
ordered her breakfast and sat back
she listened closely to the council
and followed them on their mind track

She had coffee from Gianni
He served it up himself
Joe had cooked her breakfast
"Two eggs, bacon, and a shelf"

The Bluesman coughed and ventured
We'll know all we need to know in time
I'm off to have some med-cin
and rest my weary spine

The others laughed at his words
Saw him off and watched him go
He went back out to his alley
Away from where the wind did blow

The Captain followed closely
He was heading to the bar
The others closed the meeting
before he ever got too far

The woman in the corner
Paid her bill, and left a tip
She left ten dollars on the table
With a yellow paper slip

She also left beside it
A small card of olive green
She was gone and on her way
Before the little card was seen

Gianni, read it , looked around
There was now nobody there
So he read it to himself and smiled
No use, just reading to the air

It said "Catherine A. "
Seller of used books
Owner of Broken Spines
Books in need of second looks

Gianni didn't know the name
But the store just fit the street
Everyone here was damaged, flawed
Second hand....to be discreet

There has to be a story
To go with our young Catherine A
I guess we'll find out more
On the street....another day
It was time for celebration
Thanksgiving weekend was now here
A time for food and football
A time for love and prayer

In front of old Gianni's
The parade was marching by
But, way back in the alley
Someone was singing to the sky

The Blues man sat and pondered
As he sometimes chose to do
Of his songs and of his music
That really reached too few

The parade was full of bluster
High School Bands and all that stuff
While out back of Old Gianni's
The Blues man had it rough

But, he sang songs of Thanksgiving
To the Lord, and to the sky
He was praising all worlds beings
Though no body did pass by

He sang "Glory, Glory, Glory"
He sang "Allehlujah " too
Even though he sat with no one
The Blues man wasn't blue

Back door opened slowly
As the parade was winding down
People from The Street
Were slowly coming round

The Blues man didn't notice
Singing on without a break
Singing songs of praise and glory
With just the sounds that he could make

Then all at once he looked out
Saw the quickly gathered throng
He changed what he was playing
And he broke into a song

The Blues man started Christmas
Singing of a Christmas Tree
And of a long ago soft Silent Night
And the entire show was free

He didn't sing of presents
He didn't sing of our excess
He sang Christmas Hymns of long ago
When we all gave thanks for less

The Blues man had his medcin'
Drank a bit, and sang some more
Then he started slowing down
When she came out from her back door

The woman with the used book place
Stood silent, listening with this cast
Of The Street owners and people
On who life had given up so fast

She walked up to The Blues man
Through the crowd to where he was
And she started singing with him
Which made the Blues man pause

He knew he'd heard this voice before
Back when people knew his name
It was older and some shaky
But, the voice it was the same

The woman looked down at him
Gave a smile, shed a tear
Then she said "It's me dad"
"It's no dream...I am here"

The Blues man kept on playing
For two hours more or so
When the weather, not the people
Put an end to this mans show

Another past Thanksgiving
Was still playing in his mind
But, The Blues man and his daughter
Had a life they had to find

No one heard her say it
Just The Blues man, as he sang
This was the start of a new story
As bells of Thanksgiving loudly rang
Another dark day in this dismal old place
Snow clouds were moving in fast
The sky was so dark, and the wind had a chill
This was a storm that was sure gonna last

At Cy's, The Old Pawn Shop was empty except
For Cy and the stores old dog Gruff
The storm was en route and Cy figured that this
Was a good time to go through the stuff

Years of memories, years of tall tales
They were all on the shelves in this store
There was all sorts of jewellery, tvs and clothes
And in the back was at least 40 years more

The door opened sharp and the bell startled Cy
He was checking the watches and clocks
A young man came in, dressed all in black
Cy said "push hard or the **** thing don't lock"

The young man was tall, about six two I'd say
Cy had never seen him before in his life
He'd said "Sir, I've an offer, you can take or can leave"
"And it's the best one you've had all your life"

Cy looked at the man, intrigued though he was
He said "Sit, and I'll put on some tea"
He went to the door, checked the oncoming storm
And then he put the sign up..."BE BACK AT 3"

They sat and they talked, and they laughed as the wind
Blew the snow up against the front door
Cy pulled out some books, went and made some more tea
Then the man left and left Cy in the store.

Later that night, under cover of darkness
The man came on back with a truck
Cy opened up, and with Gruff by his side
They watched as the man quickly loaded the truck

Two days had passed, and the whole town was white
The storm closed the town for a day
The streets were a mess and the schools were all closed
And the kids had the day off to play

On the third day, the town, woke up almost as one
With people phoning up Cy's by the score
For as they all left for work, there all wrapped up in brown
Was a box, sitting by their front doors

Jim, was the first, opened his box outside
Saw the watch that he pawned with Old Cy
Gianni, and Mike, and others as well
Received items they'd pawned by  and by

In total you see, almost 200 folks
Opened boxes paid off that dark night
Christmas was early for folks in the town
Given by a young man, who'd done right

Cy gave the names of the people he knew
Even though it was against the Pawn shop man's creed
He'd loaned out the money in interest free loans
To these folks that he knew were in need

About  five thirty that day, the young man returned
Cy and old Gruff were waiting inside
They spoke how his stunt was a universal success
And at this, they both laughed till they cried

The man rose from his seat, shook Cy by the hand
Cy asked "Why did you come here?"
The man answered "I'm here after my Mum"
"Her names Mary, and I heard she serves beer"
I said "The Street" poems were done, but I thought....I needed to keep them alive, so here is a tale bringing in Cy (The Pawn Shop) and Mary (The Bartender) back into play. Read them along with the others to refresh yourself with the street. It could be interesting now that Mary's son is back, the son the town didn't know about.
Gianni's hadn't opened yet
But, the bar was going strong
If you listened, in the distance
You heard the working of a song

The regulars were present
The Captain, Soldier and the kid
The bartender was cleaning
'Cause that was what she did

The sun, well, it was shining
It was a great day all around
And in the alley sat The Blues man
Sitting still upon the ground

Nothing, any different
Than most any other day
The street folk passing greetings
While the Blues man chose to play

The bell above the bar door rang
As a stranger came on in
The dust hung in a sunbeam
Falling  from the old bell of tin

In back of old Gianni's
The Blues man played a Dylan tune
He slid right into Guthrie
It was a perfect afternoon

The stranger grabbed the bar's end stool
He ordered up and looked around
Then he said, "excuse me barkeep"
"Just exactly, what's that sound?"

She said it was The Blues man
He's a legend on the street
The man said, "sounds intriguing"
"He is someone I should meet"

The Captain ordered up a shot
The juke box started playing
In the corner sat an old man
Not quite sure if he was staying

The barkeep quizzed the stranger
Said "You're off the normal route"
"Most stranger get directions"
Then he pulled a card out of his suit

He said his name was  Edwards
He wasn't lost, he had a plan
He'd heard about the music
Now he came to meet the man

"It says here you do A & R"
"You can sit here and can listen"
"But, The Blues man isn't gonna talk"
"You have nothing that he's missing"

The music in the bar was rock
Out in back, a bluesy lick
You could listen to the tunes inside
Or go out back, you had your pick

"Can I at least go out and see him?"
"You can but won't get far"
Then she put his card with others
She had collected in a jar

"You see those cards all in there?"
"Thirty three more just like you"
"Have come around here snffing"
"Like he's some creature in a zoo"

"See that girl there in the corner?"
The man nodded that he did
"Talk to her, she'll tell you"
"She runs the book store, she's his kid"

The Blues man played some Chapin
Let loose on Thunder Road
Took a small sip from his hip flask
It was hidden, rarely showed

The man asked for an ashtray
Was told "you cannot smoke in here"
"But, the old man in the corner..."
She said sssshhhh, and poured a beer

"The folks round here have stories"
"Some good, and some are bad"
"He's the only one that I let smoke"
"The old man's story is quite sad"

"Stick around a while, see"
"Just what makes the street click"
"There's a hundred different stories"
"Look around and take your pick"

"But, what about The Blues man?"
"I can give him things he hasn't got"
"You will learn sir, that possessions"
"Make him something he is not"

"He plays music in the alley"
"He does't know if you are there"
"He plays what his soul is feeling"
"He'll play to you, or to the air"

"Your best bet, is to sit here"
"Leave him be, don't light the fuse"
"You may set him on a tangent"
"And he just may lose his muse"

"He's a part of everybody here"
"He's a savior, and a sage"
"He's The Blues man to the street folk"
"But, he's from a different age"

"Have a beer, talk to his daughter"
"Play some darts, the beer's on me"
"My advice, I hope you'll take it"
"Is to let The Blues man be"

"Go back to where you came from"
"Tell the folks who sent you here"
"That The Blues man declined nicely"
"And then you two shared a beer"

He smiled, looked to the corner
Ordered one more, "I concur"
"while you're pouring out my lager"
"pour one more drink for her"

He went off to the corner
Introduced himself and sat
Never mentioned his profession
And that they say is that

The Blues man played some Johnson
The A & R man stayed a while
He looked back toward the barkeep
She looked back, and shared a smile
Back behind Gianni's bar
The Bluesman sings his tunes
To all the local n'er do wells
And to the stars and to the moon

His voice is coarse as forty grit
His playing smooths it out
He plays upon an orange crate
Comfort is not what he's about

Bluesman, Bluesman play a song
One sung just for me
One that paints pictures in my head
A song that I can see

Buskers, lined the concourse
The street where he was not
This was just a place for tourist fare
He was where the world forgot

His tunes were sung for no one but
Himself and to the air
Out front, that was another world
Bluesman, did not live out there

A crowd has gathered slowly
More of a group, than a real crowd
They heard about the bluesman
And out front was too **** loud

In back, you heard the feelings
Felt the music, heard the strings
You experienced the atmosphere
That a good old bluesman brings

Out of the crowd of fandom
Working his way through the mass
Was a young, tousled haired boy
Everybody let him pass

He rocked in one position
He felt the music ebb and flow
He looked where the notes were airborne
He saw the music go

The bluesman sat and watched him
playing stories, telling tales
Of drunks in old Las Vegas
And of sailors fighting gales

the young boy stood and rocked some
always looking at the air
He wasn't looking at the bluesman
He didn't know that he was there

He walked up to the old man
staring out into the space
that streamed the bluesmans music
right into the young boys face

the bluesman watched intently
As the young lad touched his hand
And he held the bluesmans old guitar
He became a member of the band

The boy moved even closer
If that were possible at all
He was feeling the sweet music
He was having quite a ball

The crowd watched as the bluesman
and the boy became as one
The boy resting his head now
On the guitar, having fun

He couldn't see the bluesman
But the music, it was there
The boy was blind, autistic
He saw the notes that filled the air

The bluesman kept on playing
For that was what the bluesman did
He was playing for the starry sky
And for this wondrous little kid

His mother came and held him
She took the bluesman by the hand
She said thank you for the music
For letting him be in your band

In a voice as smooth as Bourbon
The bluesman told her that her son
Could come and feel the music
The music makes us one

Bluesman, Bluesman play a song
One that's only just for me
Bluesman, Bluesman play a song
That only I can see....
The door opened, he entered
There was a whoosh of air
The Bluesman looked bedraggled
And he grabbed himself a chair

Cy, came out, he heard the bell
Saw the Bluesman, gave a smile
He said "I see the storm is worse"
"It's gonna keep up for a while"

The Bluesman looked around the store
Saw a guitar on the wall
"She's an old one hanging over there"
He called to Cy, now down the hall

He grabbed it, rubbed the neck some
He said "she's got a lot to say"
He went back to the wooden chair
And the Bluesman, he did play

"There's lots of music in this girl"
"So many songs not sung"
He looked back at the hook behind
Where this old guitar had hung

He sang songs about Jesus
about freedom, and the moon
Amazingly for the guitars age
It wasn't out of tune

Cy went to the pawn stores  back
returning with a flask
He'd brought the Bluesman medicin
The Bluesman continued with his task

"This old girls a treasure trove"
"She's just so full of words"
"Songs kept hidden for so long"
"Songs just waiting to be heard"

He played some more, the storm let up
He thanked Cy, took his leave
"An old guitar needs to be played"
"It's lost songs to be grieved"

"You know that you can play her"
"Whenever you come by"
The Bluesman turned and smiled
He held the flask given by Cy

"That old guitar is special"
"She's an old soul, just like me"
"I thank you for the offer"
"Time will tell, we'll see"

The Bluesman left the pawnshop
It was if he wasn't there
He went out back behind Gianni's
And sang his music to the air
Sunday morning silence
Like the eye inside a storm
The street was empty, vacant
This would be the brand new norm

The windows all were shuttered
The doors were closed up tight
No one in Cy's doorway
To recover from the night

The church doors were both open
A note pinned to the door
The back, open to the alley
The note, "pray" and nothing more

Giannis, door was locked up
Joe was sleeping in the back
A note said "order through the window"
The window, open just a crack

The bar was also locked tight
A note said "coffee, but no beer"
"yell through the broken window"
"Don't worry we will hear"

Broken Spines had in the window
A large note for all to see
The note said "Cooking up some chili"
"Come back here around three"

Cy came in the back way
Taped his note up on the door
"Don't worry about paying"
"Call if you need more"

The street was still in motion
It had life, but none to see
Today, and for a while
The street folk lived for free

The city closed the main roads
The street, forgotten to most folk
The old man, sat on the curbside
Looking up, he lit a smoke

People ordered up their coffee
Got themselves a bite to eat
Stood in line outside, all waiting
Social distance...now six feet

Most folks on the street now
Lived above their stores or near
The street was still in action
Strong and silent, cloaked in fear

While life was now adapting
A sound, blew by upon the air
The Bluesman, oh so gentle
Was singing, but, from where?

The alley by Gianni's
Was empty, not a sound
But, still there heard the music
With the singer not around

The music, it got louder
The wind brought it to the street
The stores opened windows,
To hear the Bluesman's vocal treat

It took some time to figure
Where the music was relayed
He was on Gianni's rooftop
He just sat up there and played

A special Sunday concert
With stops for "medicin" now and then
Brought the street folks altogether
They were one now, once again

The Bluesman sang The Beatles
He sang U2, he sang the Band
He sang all the Guthries
He sang about the land

He sang of inspiration
Of not being all alone
How we were in this together
His message simple, inspired tone

He sang songs that got you dancing
In the stores, that's what they did
All alone, but, with the Bluesman
Dancing like a little kid

Some sang, but no one heard them
They sang loud and didn't care
They were exactly like the Bluesman
Singing proudly to the air

He sang for near an hour
Folks below yelled up their praise
The Bluesman brought The street together
In the most beautiful of ways

He finished up by singing
Two songs that made this right
He sang "Imagine" by John Lennon
Then he gave them "Silent Night"

He made his way down slowly
He was older than he was
He did this for his people
He did this just because

People started singing
You could hear it all around
But, the Bluesman grabbed some chili
Found his tent, and hunkered down

Inspired, I would say so
That is just life on the street
A group of flawed, broke people
You'd be lucky should you meet

A family, but not really
They were one, but, many too
No one here is really special
They are all like me....and you.
The word was out around the street
Tonight, behind Giannis bar
There would be really something special
From the bluesman and his guitar

For locals not for punters
Just for those upon the street
You'd better bring a lawn chair
If you wanted a good seat

The word spread fast and no one
Would miss this once they heard
New works from the bluesman
You had to take in every word

The bluesman was a legend
In this flawed, dark part of town
He only played back in the alley
That was where his show went down

At precisely eleven seventeen
The bluesman took his place
Upon his beat up orange crate
In his same familiar space

It was just like a cathedral
Underneath the golden moon
Quiet and forboding
As he started his first tune

The alley was the bluesmans church
As he sang to the street people
But this church had no walls or pews
No bells, it had no steeple

The bluesman sang of love and loss
Of dragons, ships and gin
He sang of Shubert, Bach and Liszt
He sang of constant sin

He looked but he saw no one
He was zoning, all alone
He sang songs of faith and hunger
Time to give the dog a bone

He played and drank his med-cin
For sometimes he got dry
The bluesman had the crowd entrapped
Beneath the shining moonlit sky

He talked of how his smoking
Through the years gave him his sound
It only took me fifty years
I'm surprised I'm still around

He sang of love and window panes
Of jealousy and trust
Of walruses and potholes
Of people turned to dust

As people sat in wonder
Of this prophet in disguise
You could see a certain twinkle
Deep in the bluesmans eyes

Gianni, stood off to the side
Timekeeper of the show
He signalled to the bluesman
One more and we must go

He had to close the restaurant
Turn the lights off in the back
So the bluesman took another sip
And grabbed a song from his minds pack

He finished up with something
Singing songs for all who came
He made them feel it was their heartsong
Although he never said a name

He sang of waitresses and barkeeps
Pawn brokers and of guests
of family and train tracks
of watchers and of quests

He finished up and packed away
His crate and his guitar
And he collected appreciation
In a two quart mason jar

The crowd left thirty dollars
almost ninety cents a seat
A fortune to the bluesman
And the folks here on the street
It was early Christmas Eve Day
There was light snow on the ground
And lightly, if you listened
You could hear the slightest sound

It wasn't from a choir
Nor, a speaker on the street
But, a voice, tired and raspy
That would not admit defeat

Normally, at Christmas
The street would be alive
With last minute visits
Before Santa would arrive

Gianni held a party
For the vendors out this way
But, this year, there'd be nothing
There was no party today

Behind his place, The Bluesman
Had moved inside from the cold
He'd moved to the old Church basement
Where his stories were still told

He'd head outside and sing some
His "med-cine" in his jug
Behind the Church he'd set up,
On a wood chair, with a rug

The Bluesman sang to no one
His voice crisp, but not as strong
The elements were tough now
But, they would not take his song

The pastor, always present
Standing, watching by the door
He loved hearing the Bluesman
But, he loved the people more

Some Sundays, not all though
The Bluesman would begin
The service for the pastor
Then the choir joined in

He'd sneak off to the basement
Or outside, with his guitar
The Bluesman, felt his music
Was his lightning in the jar

This morning, though not Sunday
He was singing to the few
Lost souls, and some locals
Who had nothing else to do

The church doors were wide open
Every candle had been lit
It wasn't cold inside there,
But, maybe, just a little bit

He sang some Christmas carols
Some old blues, and Lennon too
He stopped and took a swallow
That was the choirs cue

They'd come in from the alley
The pastor had them in behind
The Bluesman, kept on singing
He was lost inside his mind

The church was filling up though
The voices carried on the wind
To those who always came here
And those who never sinned

There were masks of every colour
In every second row
The pastor kept folks distanced
For this little make shift show

The Bluesman sang a few more
Then he spoke unto the crowd
"Keep those you love inside your heart"
Though it wasn't very loud

He walked on past the pastor
By the choir, to the stair
And like Clement Moore's old Santa
In a blink, he wasn't there

Things this year were different
Not like parties in the past
Held up at old Gianni's
No one knew how long they'd last

There was no star to sing to
It was early in the day
But, we'd got our Christmas present
We'd got to hear the Bluesman play

Maybe next year, would be better
Back to normal, as before
But, who knows, just what will happen
What the muses have in store

So, take the Christmas message
"Keep those you love inside your heart"
God bless you all this Christmas
Another year is set to start
The Good Pussy Dec 2014
.
                               Tom
                       Ford Yves St
                     Laurent Bill Bl
                    ***   Tommy  Hil
                     figer  Christian
                     Dior Michael K
                     orsMarc Jacobs
                     Karl   Lagerfeld
                     Oscar de la Ren
                     ta JohnGalliano
                     JeanPaulGaultie
                     r ChristianLoub
                     outin GeoffreyB
                     eeneCalvinKlein
                     R a lph L au ren
      Pierre Cardin         Giorgio Armani
Zac Posen Phillip     Lim Jason Wu Gianni
Versace Prabul          Gurung Emanuel
    Ungero Rick                      O w ens
Size doesn't matter!

Tom Ford's shocking ****/crucifix gold necklace comes in S M & l .  All sizes cost $790.00!

— The End —