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in a stand
your ground
open carry
libertarian
paradise

Miami Gardens,
the capitol of
stop and frisk
looms as the
shape of things
to come

it doesn't
happen
all at once

it stealthily
creeps into
once wholesome
homesteads

it arrives
emaciated
always starved
for more

stark stiletto eyes
suspiciously stare
piercing
confused
frowns
worn by
flummoxed
citizens
unable to
gaze away the
maleficent days

seemingly
beginning in
innocuous
ways

they
build walls
to keep
"the other"
out

firming
conformity
to the ways
within

deep
foundations
of rigid status
quo pillars
sacrosanct

differentiation
verboten

diversity breeds
suspicion

conversations
eavesdropped

big data ears
ever listening
to between
the lines words

small talk
meta data
indexed and
algoed

down beat
utterances
classified
state secrets

certain books
are forbidden

artists condemned
art destroyed

ideas censored
shut down by
corporate
governance
social network
posting rules
and best practice
marketing
metrics

dissent
shouted down
by xenophobic
#ammosexual
group think
yahoos

in blind allegiance
to commands
of Citizen Inc
politicians
enable
a juggernaut
to roll across
the globe
fracking
to bits
anything
obstructing
its path

science is
false

history
suspicious

revisionism erases
biographical memory
we forgot how
we arrived
at this place

The History Channel
flickers cartoons
of multicolored
allegories onto
the dark walls
of our video
addicted minds
offering sweet
relief of a new
commercial fix

pandered opinion
is trafficked
as fact

inculcating
confirmation of a
stasis affirming
echo chamber

real time news
rubber stamps
the prevailing
zeitgeist of
the daily dread
a visceral
confirmation
of the World
Series Hunger
Games

communities
compel
residents
to swear
allegiance
to tribal creeds
that debase
humanity

religious precepts
shutters spirituality
with sanctioned
indoctrination
designed to
undermine an
ability to reason

ethical discernment
is arrested by moral
bifurcation

the marginalized
are criminalized

land of
the free prisons
promoted
as growth
industries
auction off
bill of rights
on low bid
altars of
profitability

a perpetual
state of warfare
marshals frenzied
legions of fear

as casualties
mount the
march of
militarization is
the only known balm
to salve the terror
welling deep within
afflicted hearts

the sun rises
on another day
in Miami Gardens
as the next shift
of police roll
through this
kingdom
of perps

Music Selection;
Dizzy Gillespie
Things to Come

6/5/14
Oakland
jbm


Miami Gardens;
Capitol of Stop and Frisk
http://www.ebony.com/black-listed/news-views/miami-gardens-the-stop-and-frisk-capital-of-the-country-981#axzz33mbFDN6P
About the size of an old-style dollar bill,
American or Canadian,
mostly the same whites, gray greens, and steel grays
--this little painting (a sketch for a larger one?)
has never earned any money in its life.
Useless and free, it has spent seventy years
as a minor family relic
handed along collaterally to owners
who looked at it sometimes, or didn't bother to.

It must be Nova Scotia; only there
does one see abled wooden houses
painted that awful shade of brown.
The other houses, the bits that show, are white.
Elm trees, low hills, a thin church steeple
--that gray-blue wisp--or is it? In the foreground
a water meadow with some tiny cows,
two brushstrokes each, but confidently cows;
two minuscule white geese in the blue water,
back-to-back, feeding, and a slanting stick.
Up closer, a wild iris, white and yellow,
fresh-squiggled from the tube.
The air is fresh and cold; cold early spring
clear as gray glass; a half inch of blue sky
below the steel-gray storm clouds.
(They were the artist's specialty.)
A specklike bird is flying to the left.
Or is it a flyspeck looking like a bird?

Heavens, I recognize the place, I know it!
It's behind--I can almost remember the farmer's name.
His barn backed on that meadow. There it is,
titanium white, one dab. The hint of steeple,
filaments of brush-hairs, barely there,
must be the Presbyterian church.
Would that be Miss Gillespie's house?
Those particular geese and cows
are naturally before my time.

A sketch done in an hour, "in one breath,"
once taken from a trunk and handed over.
Would you like this? I'll Probably never
have room to hang these things again.
Your Uncle George, no, mine, my Uncle George,
he'd be your great-uncle, left them all with Mother
when he went back to England.
You know, he was quite famous, an R.A....

I never knew him. We both knew this place,
apparently, this literal small backwater,
looked at it long enough to memorize it,
our years apart. How strange. And it's still loved,
or its memory is (it must have changed a lot).
Our visions coincided--"visions" is
too serious a word--our looks, two looks:
art "copying from life" and life itself,
life and the memory of it so compressed
they've turned into each other. Which is which?
Life and the memory of it cramped,
dim, on a piece of Bristol board,
dim, but how live, how touching in detail
--the little that we get for free,
the little of our earthly trust. Not much.
About the size of our abidance
along with theirs: the munching cows,
the iris, crisp and shivering, the water
still standing from spring freshets,
the yet-to-be-dismantled elms, the geese.
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2013
There is a song, each of has one.
It is that song that you listen to not once, not twice,
but over and over again.
This song I loved, and put it aside, 'lost' it,
and this afternoon, on a drive to Monterey a year ago,
it found me again.
Below are the words.
Find a video of Richie Havens (see the notes) singing it.
It is a song that you will listen to not once, not twice,
but over and over again, for when he cries out
follow, you will.

Why today?
For a number of reasons.  Primarily, because the first rock festival to change the nation was the 1967 10th Anniversary of the Monterey Jazz Festival, a crossover, because, Richie and Janis Joplin were included and exploded the world, paving the way for Woodstock, the festival heard round the world, where Richie was the opening act!

The headliners were: T-Bone Walker, B. B. King, Richie Havens, the Clara Ward Singers, Dizzy Gillespie Quintet, Modern Jazz Quartet, Ornette Coleman Quartet, Carmen McRae, Earl "Fatha" Hines, Richie Havens, and Big Brother & The Holding Company w/Janis Joplin.

Teach your children well, their father's hell will slowly go by...Crosby Stills and Nash

Soon it will be six months since Richie passed (April 22, 2014).
Patty M. reminded of Van Morrison today, and it in turn, brought me to this place, where my heart resided a year ago today.


*FOLLOW
(Words by Jerry Merrick)

Let the river rock you like a cradle
Climb to the treetops, child, if you’re able
Let your hands tie a knot across the table.
Come and touch the things you cannot feel.
And close your fingertips and fly where I can’t hold you
Let the sun-rain fall and let the dewy clouds enfold you
And maybe you can sing to me the words I just told you,
If all the things you feel ain’t what they seem.
And don’t mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream.

The mocking bird sings each different song
Each song has wings - they won’t stay long.
Do those who hear think he's doing wrong?
While the church bell tolls its one-note song
And the school bell is tinkling to the throng.
Come here where your ears cannot hear.
And close your eyes, child, and listen to what I’ll tell you
Follow in the darkest night the sounds that may impel you
And the song that I am singing may disturb or serve to quell you
If all the sounds you hear ain’t what they seem,
Then don’t mind me ‘cos I ain’t nothin’ but a dream.

The rising smell of fresh-cut grass,
Smothered cities choke and yell with fuming gas;
I hold some grapes up to the sun
And their flavour breaks upon my tongue.
With eager tongues we taste our strife
And fill our lungs with seas of life.
Come taste and smell the waters of our time.
And close your lips, child, so softly I might kiss you,
Let your flower perfume out and let the winds caress you.
As I walk on through the garden, I am hoping I don’t miss you
If all the things you taste ain’t what they seem,
Then don’t mind me ‘cos I ain’t nothin’ but a dream.

The sun and moon both are right,
And we’ll see them soon through days of night
But now silver leaves on mirrors bring delight.
And the colours of your eyes are fiery bright,
While darkness blinds the skies with all its light.
Come see where your eyes cannot see.
And close your eyes, child, and look at what I’ll show you;
Let your mind go reeling out and let the breezes blow you,
Then maybe, when we meet, suddenly I will know you.
If all the things you see ain't what they seem,
Then don’t mind me ‘cos I ain’t nothin’ but a dream .
And you can follow; And you can follow; follow…
Try

http://vimeo.com/37671417

The last time I saw Richie A-live, of all places, a poetic place perfect,, where we keep our treasures.



http://www.last.fm/event/588961+Richie+Havens+at+The+Metropolitan+Museum+of+Art+on+2+May+2008
Tommy Johnson Jul 2014
What have I done?
I've unleashed Quincy Valero into The Big Bad City, upon Greenwich Village for the first time
The 177 express, round trip
To Port Authority
To the A train to Canal

We missed our stop
Had to walk from Soho to Washington Square Park
But along the way we saw artists and galleries
Head shops and street performers
Hobos and junkies

"We made it"
"We in this *****!"
Quincy said as we walked through the arches

We saw a multitude of creatures
An artist drawing floral murals with chalk
Meditating Buddhists
A cello player playing for a meal
A drummer drumming for money to get back home
A jazz band
A clarinet player
Writers scribbling down whatever came to mind

We saw beautiful women everywhere
"Look, my ten, your two"
Quincy said nodding to a **** brunette wearing a sundress walking by

We got coffee at The Third Rail coffee shop
We met lovey dovey couples and a girl poet sipping espresso

Treading down Bleaker to Sullivan to Macdougal to Huston
*** shops, leather and studs, ****** and flavored lubes
"This **** reminds me of Saw"
Quincy said with a laugh
"Too much for your threshold aye?"
I said nudging him

We passed a guy selling vinyl on the street
"How much for the Charlie Parker record?" I asked
He took the record out and inspected it
"Five bucks" he said
"How long you gonna be here, like till what time?" I asked
"Oh I don't live by time or numbers" he answered
"Time ain't your mast huh?" I laughed
"Nope, you cant spell T-I-M-E without M-E" he said
Quincy and I looked at eachother with a grin
"I'll be back, if I'm not here before you leave good luck in your ventures" I said as we walked away
"Thanks brother enjoy the day" he said smiling and waving

We ate to Papaya Hot dogs
Best in the city
Then to the pool hall

Now folks, it is common knowledge where I'm from the Quincy Valero is the local pool shark
He can break and sink three *****
He can jump over your ball and get his in
He can shoot behind his back with one hand

Playing with him is a guaranteed loss
But I never cared, I just like playing
We talked and laughed about all the stupid nonsense back at home
And planned our next move

We went to The Blue Note, the best jazz club in the city
The Dizzy Gillespie All Star Band was playing that night
But it was too expensive for both of us so we went on to St. Mark's place

More head shops
More *** shops
And book stores, clothing stores
Punk things in Search and Destroy, record stores
All that good stuff

It was getting late
Back to Bleaker to start drinking
First stop, a little pub
The bartender was a gorgeous blonde, sweet as could be
We ordered two beers
She seemed to be having trouble with the tap
"Sorry guys it's a little foamy, next rounds on me"
We were amazed by that because back home all the bartenders couldn't care less if we got a whole mug of foam
We clinked glasses and took that first cool icy sip
So nice on such a hot day

"Ya know dude, this is it this is perfect" Quincy said
"What you mean?" I asked
"Well this is a great time, I'm on vacation right now and were here exploring and relaxing and enjoying the moment, this moment" he said with his beer hovering over his mouth

Quincy always talked about "This"
This moment
This time
This feeling
This thing

"This" is that time when you're in the moment
That moment of complete and total encumbrance
When you're wrapped up in what you'r doing because you love it and you're happy
The moment you live for
The moment you want to last forever
This moment
This right here
Not then, not before or after
But right now, this
We lived our lives trying to to make this happen every second of everyday
Living it up

Quincy took me to Artichoke Pizza
And my God, it was immaculate
A nine in wide, nine inch long and half inch thick slice of heaven
It was a mixture of crunchy, gooey, savory goodness
I highly recommend it

Then back to the bars
Wicked *****'s
Triona's
Off The Wagon
The Bitter End
GMT
The Red Lion
Cafe Wha?
1849

Beer
Wine
***
Whiskey
Scotch on the rocks
Bourbon

Smoking electronic cigarettes down cobble stone roads
Passing hipsters, college students and tweakers
Locals and tourists
"Out of my way you tourist *******" I yelled frantically pushing my way passed them with Quincy trudging behind

You can always spot a tourist because they got their cameras, their ***** packs and their head looking up saying "ooo look at the building and that one!" taking snap shots in awe

We walked to The V-club
As we walked up to the entrance a little old lady in a wheel chair called out to us, "Are you two brothers?"
We laughed and said "no, were best friends and next door neighbors"
"Oh, well you too look very similar, very young" she said
"Yeah we're both twenty one" Quincy said
"You live around here?" I asked
"Right over there" she said pointing to the building across the street
She told us about how the building was falling apart and how all the law students got booted out leaving the little old lady and one other person living in the nine floor heap
"Back in the day there were river rats in their the sized of cats, but now we only have mice" she said
"I'm being moved though, whenever the land lords and the officials decided where" she added
She had some sort old senior citizen perk that allowed her to be taken care of
She then started to spit some of her poetry from thirty years ago, perfectly from memory
It was full of truth, insight and hope
We were floored by this wheelchair bound geriatric
She was a a retired barmaid, a poet, and an ex-lounge singer
Her name was Tracy Warren

The three of us walked into the V-club
I ordered a glass of Pinot Noir
And Quincy got a draft Brooklyn Lager
While pulling out a stool a spilled my wine all over the wooden table
"****" I said as everyone in the bar watched me put my face in my palms
I got paper towels and cleaned up my mess while the bartender leaned over to Quincy and said "If you don't tip me that will be your last drink ever in here"
"Okay" Quincy said as he walked over to me laughing at my expense
"If it was Burgundy I'd be in tears" I said with a half serious frown

I went to the bartender and apologized and asked sheepishly if I could possibly get a refill

"You spilled your wine?" he asked with sarcasm
"Yeah" I said
"And you want me to give you another?" he asked
"Well, I mean I don't know if that's okay or not that's why I'm asking" I said
"We don't, it isn't okay, you have to buy another one" he said with the most insulting tone I've ever heard
"Okay" I said with disdain

"**** this guy" Quincy and I both said
I left the remaining wine dripping off the table
Quincy ****** all over the bathroom
He finished his beer and we left without tipping that bearded-high and mighty- *******
We said goodbye to Tracy and she told us to enjoy every moment and to get home safely

We went to one more bar, had one more drink and headed home
But on the way to the train we got stopped by a ***
"Hey you give me money I know you got it" he yelled at Quincy
"Na man, hes broke trust me" I said to end the oncoming confrontation
"No yous lying i know it" he said
"Na, see those shoes? I got him those shoes, fifty five bucks" I told him
"Stop putting me on" he yelled
Then some white knight hipster wearing thick rimmed glasses and a green flannel stepped in and said "What's going on here? You picking on my friend?" While putting his arm around the *** mocking him and making trouble for us
"This ******* won't give me any money for my troubles" he told the hipster
"Come on man, give 'em something" he said to Quincy
"Dude, he has no money he spent all he had today" I said to the hipster and the ***
"He's a trust fund kid, he gets it from mommy and daddy" I said winking to Quincy
"Trust fund kid?!" the hipster said
"Trust fund kid!" said the ***
"TRUST FUND KID, TRUST FUND KID" screamed the hipster, the *** and myself laughing at Quincy making a scene
Then me and Quincy just walked away throwing our heads back howling at the full moon, drunk and exhausted heading for the subway  

The subway to Port Authority
Our legs, our feet and our ***** were killing us
We just wanted to sit

We could not for the life of us find our gate
We got misdirections from officers, other public transportation patrons
Thank God for this one janitor for pointing us in the right direction out of our wild goose chase
And ***** the guy who I asked "Hey man do you know where I can find the gate for the 177 express?"
And all I got was a blank indifferent stare
"WELL **** ME RIGHT?!" I yelled in his face

Finally we got on the line for our bus
We saw some weaselly looking guy cutting the line until he got booted to the back of the line
As he passed us we both looked at his and said "Weet, get meerkatted scumbag"
He had to wait for the next bus, whenever that was

The bus ride home felt like an eternity
But we made it
We had to walk down the unpaved dirt road to our street

We did it
We took on The Village
Sailed through the bars
Walked the streets
Met cool, hip people
Made memories
And now we have stories to tell
Terry Collett Oct 2014
Sarasota Beach.
You’d been to this place
Before, long before



You’d met Earl or his
Sour sister Pearl
Or her friend Mrs



Gillespie for this
Picnic on this stretch
Of sand. When was that



Now? A girl then. And
Not picnicking. Who
Was it with back then?



The Milton boy? Yes.
Him with the dark hair
And big blue eyes. You’d



Walked this beach hand in
Hand thinking it love,
Thinking you’d found the



Core to your being.
Didn’t of course. It
Hadn’t got too far.



You kissed, held hands, spoke
Words, laughed, caressed, but
Nothing more. Least ways



You didn’t want to,
Not then, not with him,
Just like that. You stare



Out at the sea now.
Earl says, what are you
Gazing at? Ain’t you



Seen the sea before?
Pearl sits quiet, deep
In thought. Maybe she



Had an adventure
Of love here, who knows.
Mrs Gillespie



Eats away and speaks
Small talk between large
Mouthfuls. You recall



The Milton boy for
His ardent attempt
At going further,



Trying to venture
Beneath your dress back
Then. Smacked his hand of



Course. He stopped, withdrew
His hand, frustrated
And sulked. Never got



His way though.  He boiled
Up inside, you guess.
Went with that Kelly



Girl not long after,
Maybe she gave way,
You don’t know. Smiled a



Far bit after that,
The Milton boy, her
On his arm, looking



At you with that look
Of his. You look back
At Earl and watch him



Eat, holding a dull
Conversation with
Mrs Gillespie



Between bites. The sea
And wind seem the same,
The gulls, the smell of



Sea and salt and a
Long lost age. Aren’t you
Going to eat? Earl



Says. Plenty here, he
Mutters. Pearl stares at
The sea. Maybe she



Had a lover once,
But lost it all, you
Muse, just like me.
A WOMAN LOOKS BACK AT HER YOUTH.
Jack Saintjohn Nov 2013
Amerikeisha tapping out the drumbeat with her see through plastic mechanical pencil  
Me sidewinding my way through highschool
Dizzy Gillespie's  trumpet waking the souls that are buried in the lockers,
Chick Corea and I are returning to forever
The land where summer is the only season
And daisy dukes are greatly appreciated,
John Coltrane is helping me realize
How beautiful girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes are,
I've been dancing to Dave Brubeck since this morning
And I can't get Maria out of my head
I just picture Maria
As this girl
Feeling Pretty
Oh so pretty
I imagine if I saw her in the street
I wouldn't double take
But Take Five    
Charlie Parker playing saxophone like
It's as easy as brushing his teeth,
Nat King Cole
Serenading Hispanic women with his soothing tone
Robert Glasper experimenting with his music
Burning you brain like mentholated cough drops
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
nic Sep 2012
and there i was.
all of 3 and a half,
draped in hopping silhouettes;
neck deep in swaying hips
and blaring tunes
tied to kick drums.
dramatic rim taps
and wingtips cluttered
cross the wooden floor.
surrounded by tall men with
tall women whose heels
unforgivingly grazed
the groaning floor boards.
their gowns thick
as kitchen curtains
that seemed to flutter
like butterflies in hurricanes.

i heard the summer whisper;
her hums sweetly floating
through grand windows
tall as ten of me;
tasting the rhythm
with her tongue,
she blew a cool sigh;
flooding the steaming stew
of old souls with young bones.
sunk real deep between
4 counts and hi hats
to twirl her way
into their step;
a type of swing
'cept it had a bounce to it
like steeple chasers.
those ladies with copper faces
and stone seasoned roots
with joints as old as time
played tag with the down beat.
those daddys dodging
in their tailoreds
like taxis in traffic;
toxic with a plague of ghouls
like the Count, King Cole
and Billie, Fitzgerald, Gillespie.

Then,
just as the summer silenced her hiss,
just as the sun
dug its heels into the dirt,
making its last ditch efforts
to remain present,
dusk untied its bows;
unwrapping a gift like glory.
and we were bathed in glory
that laughed like lovers
and kissed like dogs.
it drenched us in sloppy showers
glistening gold like sweat.
yet still,
we emerged refreshed.
so as the night
began its usual
chocking down of day
and good afternoons
cacooned into goodevenings,
i stood there;

all of 3 years old.
surrounded by silhouttes
that could only belong
to old souls with young bones
who belittled big bands
with their own vibrations;
those copper ladies
and skyscraper sized fathers
in tailored suits
who two stepped
to both sunsets and groove
grew into shadows.
and i stood in the midst of
those dimmed stars;
stamina riddled.
knowing that as
a summer day died,
a summer night
had only just begun.
Sam Temple May 2016
Thinking back to Thomas creek and sneaking a peak at the freaky little tweaker
in blown out sneakers a toothless mistress second guessing ******
thrift dressed house guest ******* up my speakers blown out woofer
wolfing down dinner mad slurping curry a beginner at twister
her sister, disaster, got caught ******* the Doberman.. unable to find sobriety
got gang ***** at the sorority doing an impression of Brad Dougherty
shoes to tall falling all wobbly knees knocking hostilely like a rasta in Montgomery
racially outcast Big Boi with a skin tare lash with passion unfashionable bastions
with rashes wear red sashes like Communist fascists I‘m a pacifist with a speeding fist
ready to dis any resistor to this transistor radio I eat filet-minion with boxers on
my mind be gone, like, no one’s home and this body roams all alone
with a *****, I’m a stoner, a postponer, ***** donor, out on loan
bought and paid for, caught with a lawnmower, impersonating a horn blower
like I was Gillespie at the Filmore, or Apollo theatre as a greater Walmart style
wearing a wife beater, not a reader, sort of a ******* not like Kim, more like
a mosquit-er drinking blood like it’s from a hummingbird feeder.
In the summer
I add my heat
to a city already aflame.

In the summer
my thighs are in bloom,
perfumed and bare.

In the summer
we scent one another -
just animals selecting a mate.

Twine your arms about me
slick with beads of desire
and damp against my waist.

I turn into your neck
to swallow your salt,
surviving on a simple mineral.

The others press by us
women, flushed at the breast,
treat the season as a lover.

Fanning The Times, spreading news
of their ripeness.
Lifting skirts over knees
coaxing a breeze, however shy,
to poke its nose where the furnace burns brightest.

Males stare, with naked longing.
Summer makes meals of flesh
that winter would never allow.

This city cooks us.
Steeped in our fine juices,
we exhale hot breath
ingest of a pheromone feast.

So, come, eat me!
While the old fan creaks, and blows,
wheezily, through a wet dishcloth,
and ice makes the pitcher
cry rings through old varnish.

Dizzy Gillespie
sings along with our noise,
joins in at crescendo,
and murmurs our sighs.

In the summer
melting ice on my throat
echo fingers upon me
probing and wet.

Let’s mix our heat
and burn this place down!
What else can we do
when the devil’s in town?
Joseph Sinclair Oct 2014
by John Gillespie McGee Jr.

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings.
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling
mirth of sun-split clouds, and done a hundred
things you have not dreamed of - wheeled
and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence.
Hovr'ring there, I've chased the shouting wind along,
and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up, the long, delirious, burning blue,
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
where never lark, or even eagle flew.
And while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
the high untrespassed sanctity of space,
put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

                      John Gillespie Magee, Jr., September 3, 1941
This is intended to be included in the collection entitled Cultured Pearls which is to be devoted to poetry by poets other than myself that has had some special meaning for me.
Ottar Dec 2013
I read eulogies from time to time
to pass the time, I find in some rejected newspaper.
The language is foreign, for I am
alive and in two hundred or so words I am to know,
who this person was and that
they were loved or respected or validated in two
dimensions plus words and a
picture, when not so long ago they were three
dimensions that filled voids in
other peoples lives, striving to make the world
around them a better place,
battled hard in a war, and fell its only victim.

Swallow the bitter pill,
there ain't no better place,
than where you are right
now, with words written
as plain as the pain on
your face, so listen and
I will try to take you to
a better place maybe I
will transport you to
a euphoric utopia but
that will take opiates,
for my words will just
make you dizzy, Gillespie,
get off that computer and
go to bed, and then you
will dream dreams of us
meeting instead, where I
will be humble and you
will be dapper unless you
are a girl then you will
be "a beautiful rendition of the Mona Lisa"
pray what is behind that
smile and how do your
whites stay so pearly and
your hair, so light and curly,
like the clouds over head,
with a background of blue
sky that holds that daystar,
and reflects off the water in
the duck pond and blinds
my eyes and makes the tear
oft fall, salty on my sleeve,
as I hold one up to wipe
a tear, I feel your hanky
brush my eye lash and I blush with unabashed charm,
but if we were manly men
walking under the trees,
along a pathway of asphalt,
walking sticks pressed into palms
of hands, not those topical trees,
along side us grass, dotted with Canada geese,
oh do watch your step dear
boy, or you might grease your
soul, which would be a helluva
a way to let this perfect day
slip away and take us from
this better place.

It matters not who I am with, for when I am with you, whom ever you are,
I am away from here, therefore found in a better place.



©DWE122013
Terry Collett Jul 2012
It was a Saturday morning
And you were 19

and you were racing along
Victoria Street having just left

Victoria Railway Station
on your way to Dobell’s

Jazz Record Shop
moving quickly

through the sea
of humanity

thinking of jazz
and what record

you were going to buy
at the shop that day

imaging yourself
******* through LP sleeves

taking a mental note
of which one

you might buy
a John Coltrane or Miles Davis

an Art Blakey or maybe
a Dizzy Gillespie

a jazz record being played
over the loudspeakers

in the shop
you mingling with others

in the crowded place
when this hobo stopped you

taking hold of your jacket gently
and said

have you got some small change
for a sandwich?

no
you replied

I haven’t
and rushed on

through the crowd
******* in your pocket

loose change
silvery coins

and his voice
in your head  

as you raced along
and your conscience

nagging you
maybe the voice

of the believed in Christ
so you stopped

and turned around
and made your journey back

through the people
passing by

your fingers taking hold
of the coins

the silvery loose change
and there he was

the hobo asking others
the same question

and they too went by
shaking their heads

or saying
no sorry no change

and you took his hand
and put in the loose silver

into his open palm
and said

here go buy yourself
a sandwich or whatever

and you turned
and left looking over

your shoulder
and he stood there

staring at his palm
and the coins shining

in the morning sun
and then you looked ahead

thinking of the record shop
and the LPs and the jazz music

being played
but deep down

in some other part of you
you knew you’d given

to one who maybe
was hungry

and had unconsciously
prayed.
Anais Vionet Jul 2022
“We’re cleared for takeoff,” the pilot announced, “settle in, our flight time to Atlanta will be 9 hours.”

The Gulfstream roared down the runway and in a moment the tops of trees flashed by. We climbed quickly, and banked. Paris dwindled, the Seine became a string of blue, the world a patchwork of colors before we punched through a layer of hair-like cirrus clouds.

My roommates and friends were all a-chatter as we lined up on the runway but as we ascended, they grew quiet.

Thoughts of Peter ran through me and gripped me like a serpent. The last time I saw him he was dressed in a summer outfit I bought him - a short-sleeve, pale-pastel-plaid seersucker shirt, kentucky-derby breaker shorts, pop color flip flops and a straw fedora. His sweet-face was all grin, he looked like a deck gillespie. Meow.

When I think about Peter, my skin tickles, my pulse accelerates, I’m confuddled. I think about the disturbance that moved through the air between us when we met. We were strangers, but a magnetic flux seemed to roll off him and break against me.

I didn’t let it show. I drew in, looked away and became quiet. What else could I do? Later, when I described it to Sunny, our meeting seemed like nothing. When I described it to Lisa, it sounded like too much.

Of course, my choices must be consistent with my ambitions, but I want Peter to come to Athens, so badly. He was a human placebo, for me, in otherwise stressful times. Now I want to be with him without school pressures - to see what that’s like - and get closer, a lot closer.

I don’t want commitment, but I’m saturated with desire. All I want is a fun July or August - with him. I seldom reveal the businesslike hardness I have buried inside. I want this and I’m ready for derp.

Peter worries - about money, about gender roles, social positions and what’s apposite. I don’t care about any of that. I want to give him a free month, like an amazing gift. He’s so male, so deceptively complicated, fragile and intoxicating.

I really need to think about this, and work it out - HA! - like I can think of anything else.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Apposite: “what's appropriate”

Slang
deck = cool
gillespie = hipster
meow = I want
confuddled = confused and befuddled
derp = anything and everything
They say God made the world in six days
And rested on seven
The same day the devil grabbed his comrades And battled Heaven

Spiritual warfare and we don't even care I stop and stare look at the community
see the clergies tryna reach me preach me Teach me
But all I get is a bunch of ******* allegories

Usin' holy parables take them literal
pledged as slaves through powerful
Collateral keep ya eyes on the federals

Like they do us trust I let the guns
Bust I ain't givin' up eazy believe me
Picture perfect with my memories
When we gone awaken from the treachery
How many fake *** emcees gone talk about they jewelry?

Clothes to fashion shows?
Hoes in Videos small appearance tv show cameos?
I see the gleam in my enemies eyes
Sign here sign there so you get a piece
Of the American pie why you lie?

Fools be sellin' they souls for material wishes
I leave em defenseless my mind ruthless
Crush all.my enemies then get a new posse We rush ya like the paparazzi it's kamikaze

In my neighborhood drug dealers and killers
Implanted by Tavis stock Institutions
black leaders eradicate them
Then we can probably find a solution

Sharpton profittin' off us
Just like that ***** Jesse
Blows his jaws open like Gillespie
Leave his Head Dizzy im in a frenzy

No paper can motivate me I transform
Into a warrior then I brainstorm
Tactics no one can detest God is my witness
50 laws of power every hour im.growin sour
Wisdom is power

50 states retaliate with 50 pistol shower
Reignin' in Babylon shakin' up everyone
No heart Cuz im heartless sick of this
******* spinnin' out the snake pits
How bout we fill DC Politics in some caskets ?

Though a ******* boy
I ain't lying eying me
But im.eyin' you what ya gone do
I'm true rebel outlaw ridah don't let me find ya
Hide all ya want talk all ya want
Watch how quick my force is
We get ***** we cut off ya generations
No.kids I'm in a bid

With life I'm livin' In strife all sheist
Prepare for war I'm takin everything
Back that was tooken from.me
It's the Ultimate heist
reincarnation of the evil poltergeist
i don’t really want a body guard

no, man, not for me

because i am a nice person, dude

and i don’t need no police and the security guards

i hate being some dude that needs a body guard

because i hear voices saying, i am not your bodyguard, buddy

i don’t want to have a bodyguard

i am too cool for that

it’s nice how the police can protect you

but i hate the idea of bodyguards

you see when i was young i hung around the people

ya know, i want to really love life

you see if i have a bodyguard, i could end up in more danger than what i bargain for

you see while i watch prisoner i learn it is ****** hard to be a bodyguard

a lot of ****** work, but you see the bent screws like the freak ferguson

and **** stewart and stewart gillespie from prisoner abusing their fucken power

i hate the idea of having a bodyguard it will make me feel stupid

and i can tell you guys, i ain’t stupid no fear

i don’t want a bodyguard because they can’t be perfect oh no

because i don’t want people fussing over me, like i am a fresh piece of meat

you see i am an artist and writer and i perform on youtube

and i hate the idea of a stupid bodyguard coming in on me
Mike Hauser Sep 2016
Call me Gillespie
At the thought of choosing sides
This all makes me Dizzy
Where ones befuddled and the other lies

White toothed grinning alligator
Beady-eyed crocodile
Which will we regret later
We'll find out for sure after awhile

One to build a wall to keep us all
Safe from those who want a home
The other swinging doors wide open
Sweeping out deplorable's

Reading from the dictionary
They would make a lot more sense
Starting out with the B's
Blah, Blah, Blah, He said, She said

I wonder when we the sheeple
Will stand up and call their bluff
Give this all back to the people
Finally say enough's enough

Is this the best they have to offer
Who's to win this losing game
Will it be the constant cougher
Or the billionaire that's clearly insane

Sadly, this crazy train needs a conductor
To carry this fragile freight
Watch out for the Loco-motion though
As we jump track on this runaway
well im the funky hocus pocus
emcees loose focus
cuz they know when i step to a show i blow
harder than Gillespie
aint none stoppin me droppin' me
uh true southern playalisticadicallic music
ya cant abuse it
ya thiught we was dead but resurrected injected
ya brain with a high funk overdose no syringe no pretend
our flows leave ya bent
competition just blowin'in the wind
my flow stings like misquito
enticin' west nile virus sound the chorus
dirtu ***** is what im about
we fight neva pout the gun in to snout
one shot no shout we all about
dollaz n cents i see you instense
but naw playa dont hate me
hate the suspense
as my  money gettin' thicker
and thicker
richer and richer
and ya know foes try to roll.with ya uh

yosef don't play no games
when it comes to fame
I say **** the fame
n the shame
I love black people
but hate ****** mane
detrimentAl for out mental
tv's paint a tainted reality no positivity
in the black community
they told me
if I wanna be a star performing artist
I gotta sellout
Naw never that I like raider hats and baseballs bats to gats
quick to watch ya blood splat
**** the records execs
cuz I'm a threat poetic terrorist
this ain't the summertime
but I'll show ya porgy and Bess blessed from the sessed
so I can manifest
this beautiful lyrics
so foggy you couldn't clear it
I'm on ya conscious like bad nerves
twitchin forever lynching
mind of those who ain't listening
I used to listen to Winehouse in the greenhouse and the windows cried in pain.
I had Gillespie in the conservatory and Kitt in the kitchen, but I saved Brenda Lee for the bedroom see 'cause she was the queen.
I had them all running recordings in my head, Dave Dee, Fats Domino, Bono, Callas for a touch of class, Des and Bygraves, slaves to the sound spinning around in my mind and now I can't find a song that's familiar, can't make out the words, don't know the artists, missed out along the tracks, no vinyls, no needles, no tables just racks of CD's
oh please tell me it isn't so
this can't be the way to go,
where's Slim and Kim and Marty gonna go now that the party is over?
In the greenhouse where I listened to Winehouse and watched the pickup pick up the beat,
I take a back seat and eat a tomato while nothing else is going on.
Allen Robinson Jun 2016
I put my lips together
and slowly exhale
melodies ensue that
mimic an original tune

******* in my mouth
as my cheeks bellow
like Dizzy Gillespie
to obtain max volume

A single blade of grass
can resonate a simple
reverberating sound
that tickles the lips

The classic tongue
and teeth method
at any sporting event
creates fandemonium

Much like an instrument
a WHISTLE can serenade
call your favorite pet
or disrespect any female

We Whistle to pass the time
we do it to express glee
we WHISTLE to move traffic
we do it to feel free.
sitting on my loggia

on a balmy spring evening
   after a short return of winter
a drink on my side
the birds chirping their evening song
the sun slanted
straight into my eyes

my favorite radio station
has declared jazz day
so I have been enjoying
Dizzie Gillespie, Charlie Parker
    Joe Zawinul, Benny Goodman, & cetera

lovely

yet I have the blues

I had to take
my woman to the airport today
she’s now miles away from me

she mailed me
she arrived safely

I am glad to know

but she still is
miles away from me

I have the blues
Discovered this verse that had gotten stored in the wrong directory of my laptop quite a while ago .... digitalization has its pitfalls ..
Colin Anhut Mar 2014
Most people can
Live to 75
80 if you really
Want to and
Have the means
I never thought
I would make it
As far;
I have played my
Knees Monk
My lungs Gillespie
My **** Morrison
And my heart Davis
Kind of Blue on repeat
recurrent suicidal thoughts vain
     gloriously wend
     (o'er a death cab for cutie weeknd)
     yanking zeal

becalming this crash test dummy rolling
     stone temple pilot inxs
     of maroon 5 plus decades long
perdition hellaciously slogging

     slow as adam and the ants,
     thru fifty shades of gray's
     anatomy common weal
masterly baiting this motley crue (cutting),

     beatle browed, beastie boy,
     outre gee (bee) us, grateful dead,
     mailer daemons inhabit
     cavernous fist size vastness steel

via Herbie Hancock (Hermans Hermits)  
     cheesy Munster trap doors that steal,
deep purple swiftly tailored
     culture club members squeal

hosted by mega death pack rat boston for real
venue at Tokyo hotel, via en grave invitation
     signed by Alice in Chains poison huss kiss
     sing, which will spellbind

     once contents unveiled, an instant app peal
immediately choking off air supply
     then Alice Cooper egging bad company
     to hypnotize the guess who sacrificial meal

supplanting raw primal scream from spinal tap
     acquiescing self to abandon all hope,
especially if black sabbath joins
     creed dance clearwater revival

     dark shadows would demand one
     (to take a knee) and kneel
before sacrificing oneself at the beck and call
     of evanescent nirvana

     experiencing permanent relief,
sans soul (twisted) sister riding a hansom
     off phish hull heart shaped coffin
     ample room enough for blind

     melon collie 10,000 maniacs, their heal
ling powers profusely emanating
     via m&m shaped talking heads
methinks averring obeisance

     to judas priest and ******* with coldplay feel
ling of eternal sleep, where quiet ***** riot
     joins carpenters, whose underground
     sepulchral crowded house indicative

  cynthesis iz a done dizzy Gillespie afterlife deal
and you bet your sweet bippy meme
an extra bonus for orthodox believers
     (absent myself - a skeptic),
     whose karma with long deceased will anele!
Speed racer, coke chaser, sting ya with da, vivid laser,
Shock ya visor, spiritual adviser, learned game wiser,
Three kings, searching for the north, star, looking afar,
I par, from evil ways, these days, most folks in th grey's,
Black and white, mentality cant see pass the fakery,
Enemies, front street, guns and blood,for satan's keep,
Demons fleet, amongst the humans, how can God love us,
When I see so much ****** amongst us, hunger,
For graves, lives cant be saved, see ya thoughts,grazed,
Feel these sting rays, Gillespie blows, link w Satchmo,
Yo, you know the spots bout to blow, carnage hickory,
Savagery, played across the scenery, long forged victory,
My mind was brought, by paying, attention, to ambition,
Let off ammunition, at the invisible, commission, convicting,
All my past sins, along with fake friends, looking for bends,
In the game, fifteen seconds a fame, just to loose, my name,
Nah, I rather toast the flame, yo you know the name, shame,
Love to lay with guilt, pleasure, and pain, all the same game,
For many years, struggled tattoo tears, bleed our fear,
Picture the face, with no face, beat any case, lace up the place,
With the styles, of  Chase Manhattan, see the flows batting,
Above average, better yet, a thousand, island wildin,
Out every time, I lay out, excellence mic performance, golden,
Glaring, like a touch of honey, dripping of the comb,
Girls staring me, down, wave blue magic crown, sounds,
Sweet soulful, vinyl touch seventy, beautiful skins, heavenly,
Lifetime of crimes, but I still, love amongst the blinds,
Many signs, of angels, garlic shots for vampire spots,
Watch em fly away, duck when the words say, prey day,
Who stop.the predator, news editor, rumbling thunder,
Critics under, pressure guns lay the measure, stretcher,
Very skill, against my will, I ain't scared to die, from a ****,
War trained veteran, combat like david, not a Letterman,
Comprehend, a fews words, chipped in, luxury mind clippin,
Sippin, off the henny, rub a bottle, out pops, a genie,
In a bikini, looking ****, she tried to get next to me, see,
She just another succubus, waiting for me bust, dust,
Me at the fiery , crossroads I rather stay, with the spiritual glow,


Looking at the tears, after the laughter, see the disaster,
Laid amongst, the citizens, where am I again, living in sins,
Perdition, just the ending of the beginning, sending,
All my fakes, that wish me hell, see ya soul dwell, sing shells,
Shotguns looking lovely, ****, when she laying next to me,
Bringing prophecy, in the form of tragedy, ya majesty,
Take a blast at me, skip the gates, of the heavenly, beverly,
Been on the hills, watch the thrills, how many love, blood spills,
No chills, see them feeling rusty, to many folks dusty, musty,
Cuz they cant clean they thoughts, I stay casket sharp, harp,
The strings of Robert Johnson, gangsta blues, dejavu,
Beat down crews, give em a taste, of what texas, ****** do,
Yo miss the hearse, funeral my casket, caped these *******,
Thinking they mastered, I caster, the seeds, fill the needs,
Of the dying breeds, pride I swallow, I'll go out, like Apollo Creed,
Rocky Balboa, stamina swole, feel depths, of a soul glow,
Went to rich, from poor, mentality up my locality, in divinity,
No fake in me, I been real, since the birth of the hip hop,
Walked out my cradle, with the shanks, and a toasted bagel,
Excuse me, I'm talking about my guns, clips for ecstasy,
Love my girls ebony, thick fit, thighs looking Pepsi, crispy,
Once I I knock the flavors, forget all the, wannabe jocks,
I keep it lock, like a Senate, hard to survive, satan's pendant,
See me in it, to win it, flip my biscuit, music, for ya mellow soul,
Stroll with me, as we vibes, to old school, hallow destiny,
Saw jesus, before he hit thirty three, he advised me, to see,
The world, hate it much, but love the soul, daring touch, clutch,
Only what'sreal, shoot through cupid's heart, with these darts,
Tomorrows never promise, follow the wisdom, of Thomas,
Gospel, gangsta disciples, holding bibles, with rifles, rivals,
Cant match up, I'm draped up, king tut, with the snake, bezel,
Word to devils, that try to get on my level, no nah, check the maw,
Never spit, what I never saw, combat stats, sticking like tats,
And that's, where I draw the line, brace, melanin for sunshine,
One line, I take a snort, miss the courts, back at up the beach,
Near the miami airport, distort those who thought, they had the fort..
Word up
Check it love jones, this ain't, ya average Brian McKnight,
But I'll show ya a dark knight,make Christian's bail, thoughts prevail,
See evil parallel, carousel,
Next to heaven and hell, my soul ain't for sale, fault the grail,
Twlight gun sight, close ya sunlight, see death excite, float like a kite,
Skin graffiti, every enemy, shoot em down, like Auddie Murhpy,
True animal, Rambo, anything I touch, I destruct, ya ramble,
Gambles, with the ice of paradise, slice, bullets looking like lice,
Crawling, baby darling, suga pie honey bun, stick with puns,
This is for the real sons, born in the slums, of Houston,
Call us the rocket, cuz we stay shooting,haters get the bootin,
Shake all states, ya in good hands, see where my bands land,
I'm the man, I'm the bro, smooth as nitro, quarter mill hydro,
Stash a dough, yo see the spot blow,like sticks of pyro,
Cycle, wannabe mafiasos, we ain't for gangsta ****, profits
Off of paid gangsta hits,I *****, Luciano boss syndicate,
Move like the wind,cardinal direction, rejections,
Raw base connections, selections, picked,off the smiff n Wesson,
Stop guessing, you stressing, ain't messing, with this live ****,
The bigger the bullets, the bigger the splits, brain gymnastics,
Make classics, raps caviar, see ya demos, capped in plastic




Stature golden, with the axe, blue potion, see the ocean floating,
Posing crab snappers, get hit,with the clappers, Avenue dappers,
Showing love, once I bleed the block, ya know, I keep it lock,
Like goldies, Pretty Tony stello, **** the flows, to hoes, shows,
Skills, what's a bison, to a mosquito, sip the Mojito, sick mojo,
Lay it down, for her four point crown, chakra snow, crystal bezel,
Intellect, shining, dumb the blinding, with my cosmic, signing,
Grinding winter nights, bear necessities, feeling gravy,
Once somebodies, match to me, I got the tactics,of a Grizzlie,
Let the shells, blow like Gillespie, or catch, shots like Gretzky,
Nispy, when I hustle, I'm putting 60 pounds, to your muscle,
The stress is real, war ready, slaying amongst, these killer fields,
Can you feel, the thrill, like MJ on Pepsi appeal,pop steel,
It's all so real, til they see, own blood spill, ya know the deal,
Windmills, record deals, buck a squeal, in the high hills,
I meditate, like a great, monks when I pop, open the trunks,
Begins the ultimate funk, GP mothership, embroidery,
Pinned on ya pineal gland, man I hope yall, understand,
Fake fans, try to knock ya plans, shots opening for, ya awakening,
Mike Hauser Aug 2017
The older I get the less that I fret
With my ******* wadded up in a tizzy
As anyone could see I used to be
A mini-me of Dizzy Gillespie

I'd huff and I'd puff when I'd had enough
Like some Big Bad Wolf  in a fable
Then let it all fly as the steam in me would rise
Right on time, here comes Old Faithful

No one hanging around at the bubbling sound
As it came close to the rim
No need to wait for the show, see you later gotta go
Afraid by flying debris they'd be hit

Thankfully those years are long gone as I've learned to calm down
Although I still have my moments
My family looks at me quite suspiciously
When I turn on the news at 6
This is for the unsung melodies, broken bodies, I know y'all hear me,
I can still feel tears, from centuries ago, yo I go for the beat that cycles,
Pain for pain, can't seem to find a drain, flooded with too much on my brain,
All things remain, the same , wish I could bring my loved ones back,
It's hard to stay on track, when I'm off track, unraveling the dirt, from below,
Six feet of weapin pain, still tryna gather all of the frizzled strangs,
Let the voices of heaven rang, I saw angels blowing trumpets, doing they thang,
Brother louie, on the front row , next to Gillespie, putting on a show,
Yo it's prophecy, or better yet a miracle, close I play to the oracles,
Just another everyday script, from the spiritual chronicles, there he go,
Yosef flipping again, nope it's not for show, and it ain't for the dough, yo,
I gotta keep it real to the people, pain loves to travel wherever, pain glows,
They know, fast life leads to a death slow, embrace soon you'll have to face,
Reality, why every body tryna battle me, I'm just a spirit, in a human body,
Transformed, since I was born, near the eye the storm, close but far from harm,
Catch the rain bands, everybody reaching out, without they hands,
Minds of chaos is froth, I was cut from Jesus cloth, so I'm destined to rot, my heart darker than a kettle, or a iron ***,
Chipped off the charcoal, over my soul, but still got many pieces, to puzzle,
Iife's unsolved mysteries, in this day an age to be, about a quarter of a century,
I had enemies, but now most of my enemies, done demised before me,
Learned peace and harmony, slap my hands together, pray hard under stormy weather,
Up my energy fire Kundalini, snake presence, sent as an angelic,
In intelligent, form octopus telekinesis as my heart beats of, love increases,
Treat most like my family, if yall real with me, no need to sip Kermit tea,
Avoid drama piranha, I'm the real deal slash with no comma, equals honor,
No dishonor, allowed in my battlefield shroud, blow mushroom clouds,
Out loud, miss the fakes, every ten minutes to eight, I take a spiritual break,
To ease out the heavy heart rate, but still got many grievances, on my freight,
I'm living backwards like I'm out of date, lonely in this, world myself is my mate,
Howl at the moon, see leaking spirits oozing from the tombs, as broom,
Ya subconscious, clean out the nonsense, only for the real, no false pretense,
Yeah it goes one for the show three for dough
Bank scrolls sitting bigger than Pillsbury rolls
Naw miss that let'***** some mental quakes
Watch the heart shakes break out the intake fakes
Dont get a chance stake my golden fate
Since I was born in the deep eye of the storm
Hornest swarmed Icouldn't be stung or harmed
Minds swords drawn anagram a pentagram slam
Critics who don't give a **** summer of Sam
Hotter than hells bells flaming glory a bit gory
Let's stick to the story as I sublime category
Angels blowing Dizzie Gillespie tunes spoon-
Fuls of a slight overdose hold the roast to toast
butter over the bread spreads melts your head
Over what i says context clues I'm a valuable
Testing bulls no expendable takin' raw capitols
In capital letter the tombstone im near far way home
Angels fly away circling me like I was prey rays
Beaming see the sunlight scheming demons
Tryna get piece of the mental warpaths release
As my heart rate increase ain't scared to be ceased
Met my inner outer soul through my outer soul
Adrenaline past rock and roll paid the major toll
death is distance cousin to life why do we strife
Nothing but wind knives chopping up thrives
Opportunity lurks patience thin as a needle
War machine kin Don Cheadle rock the Beetles
Back into the temptations it's growing slowing
Up the earth heartbeat but wait she tryna speak
Stop the flow of the creek the streams is too weak
Valcanos even singing saprano clouds on piano
Thunder hits lightening strikes darkest night
Feel horror creeping tight no fight out of sight
Delight angels sitting in the corners of the sun
With infinite wind spans waiting to cash in my sins
Slowly bake sleep but awake to the walking dead
Invest in myself embrace hot in led angels nod head
Is this a dream inside of dream plot the scheme
Cycling rewind it back as the lost son of the millennium
Crammed like forced thoughts in your cranium
Vibraniums cracking 'em axe 'em with my titanium
Swordsmith take a whiff off the axis gases to lift
Recurrent suicidal thoughts
vaingloriously wend along winding road
within windmills of my mind
(o'er a death cab for cutie weeknd)
yakking, yanking, and yawking zeal
becalming this crash test dummy rolling
stone temple pilot inxs
of maroon 5 plus decades long
perdition hellaciously slogging
slow as adam and the ants,
thru fifty shades of gray's

anatomy common weal
masterly baiting this motley crue (cutting),
beatles browed, beastie boy,
foo fighters kickstart new edition
quickening reo speedwagon treadwheel
outre gee (bee) us, grateful dead,
mailer daemons inhabit
cavernous fist size vastness steel
via herbie hancock (hermans hermits)
cheesy munster trap doors that steal,

deep purple swiftly tailored
culture club members squeal
hosted by megadeath
pack rat boston for real
venue at tokyo hotel,
via en grave invitation
signed by alice in chains poison huss kiss
sing, which will spellbind
once contents unveiled,
an instant jane's addiction peal

immediately choking off air supply
then alice cooper egging bad company
to hypnotize the guess who sacrificial meal
supplanting raw
primal scream from spinal tap
acquiescing self to abandon all hope,
especially if black sabbath joins
creedence clearwater revival
dark shadows would demand one
(to take a knee) and kneel

before sacrificing oneself
at the beck and call
of evanescent nirvana
experiencing permanent relief,
sans soul (twisted) sister riding a hansom
off phish hull heart shaped coffin
ample room enough for blind
melon collie 10,000 maniacs,
their healing powers profusely emanating
via m&m shaped talking heads

methinks averring obeisance
to judas priest and *******
with coldplay feel
ling of eternal sleep,
where quiet ***** riot
joins carpenters, whose underground
bunker with golden arches
resembles empyreal
heavenly vault wreathed
with electric light orchestra

sepulchral crowded house indicative
cynthesis iz a done
dizzy gillespie afterlife deal
and you bet your sweet bippy meme,
an extra bonus for orthodox believers
(absent myself - a skeptic),
whose karma credit Suisse
with long deceased meatloaf
with soul asylum and heart to anele!
Arlene Corwin Apr 2021
I’ve Only Ever Known Jazz

Of singers who lay claim to jazz,
I only hear a copied trend:
Styles, arrangements, timbre, sound
Make their populistic rounds.

Then I sing; hear harmonies,
Voicings, bass lines, every chord;
No schmaltz, no crotch, no gestured show,
Knowing I’m a jazz-rich throat,
Each note sung on the spot,
Improvised creatively right from the start.

Do I have a heart? Sure, but
I never will be Bassey - more a Sassy
Jazz-directed to my toes;
God knows how it begins and shows.
My instrument the ears and what they hear,
Voice right or wrong Informed by song.

Monk-like clusters mustered up by choice and taste;
Diatonic or laconic, unexpectedly chromatic:
Product of the 50’s ‘cool’.
Schooled by Ella, Vaughan, Tormé,
Miles, Gillespie, Chet, Monk, Christy,
Frishberg’s, Dorough’s’’s Blossom’s *****,
Mose, Matt Dennis; Hendricks, Hancock,
Hundreds more…great tunes galore:
Some you haven’t heard before!
These my first and opened door.

Whereas some others have their glaze,
I’ve only ever known cool jazz -
Spontaneous, each choice unfazed.
That my music’s cool soul’s razzmatazz.

I’ve Only Ever Known Jazz 4.24.2021 Vaguely About Music II; Arlene Nover Corwin
David P Carroll Apr 2021
Catholic church wants to thank
David P Carroll for his beauitful
Prayer and the choir for singing it
In Easter mass this morning

Thank you so much David P Carroll.

Pastor James Gillespie

Saint Patrick's Catholic Church
UK.
Yo turn up the bass, I'm back in ya face,
At least three mills in the briefcase,
We always make a chase,
Like bank robber tellers,
Helter skelter,
Soda pop rhymes, guaranteed to belch ya,
Ultimate survivor, ghetto hood Mcyger,
My guns is liver, liver than the next man,
I kick flows from USA to Japan,
Understand,
It don't matter where I land,
My shots is lethal,
Like the desert shot eagle, we bleed you,
Make haters become see through,
Parallel ya shell,
To god spells, this ain't ya average gospel,
Peep the flows, that sail,
Over ya brainwaves, haters in a daze amazed,
From the sun skin heat ya glazed,
It's the tropical thunder,
Make fury, when the rhymes up under,
Diamonds dipped tundra,
Make a woman wonder,
Invisible scents, *** so intense,
Make her tap out, and flinch,
I'm so real,
Like Snipes from Suga hill,
Holding the steel,
Eye for eye, so these eyes love to ****,
And to the pigs that squeal,
Ya know the deal,
We upstate, like headache ya bones quake,
Can't step the great state,
I'll annihilate,
Any emcee who wanna test me,
Blow ya body,
Like Gillespie, minus the horn, true hip hop thorn,
Air head these newbies all up in the thread,
I cause Rambo bloodshed,
First draw, step to me,
That's against the law,
Gifts of my magnificence is what they saw,

— The End —