"goodman" poems
Is it really this hard
to find people I can go back and forth in discussion with
about Buddhist and Hindu theology compared and contrasted against Christian and Yoruba
I want to scream and shout and dance with somebody over Janet Jackson's new album
and at the same time
feel the heat and talk with somebody about how extremely sad and depressing
but oh so good Giovanni's Room was
I want to be able to speak with somebody whom can quote Malcolm X and Kafka in the same breath
Somebody who could see the logic of Pac and Immortal Technique on the same piece
with the Budos Band or Mulatu on the back track
I want to know people whom know
just exactly who
Suki Lee and Bayard Rustin are
can we talk about Jacob Kinohoor's ***
at least for a moment
then get into some B.B. King or Johnny Cash
have you seen Dune
the one from the eighties
James McAvoy shirtless
as well as John Goodman’s acting
were only good things about the other
if you read it
even better
what about the ***** that sat by the door
Or
killer clowns from outer space
let's be shady and point out all the inaccuracies on the history and discovery and channels
praying for that day
that's not in February
They show Shaka Zulu in full
without commercial interruption
Or maybe a documentary about native American people
with actual native actors
that do not depict them all as either
plains people
Or Inuit
Cause you already know
not everybody is Eskimo
then let's put on our own private production of legally blonde
followed by encore presentations of the classic scene
Of Miss Celie and miss Ofelia going in over Harpo
can I discuss with you
how the Patriot act nullifies everything in constitution
And the bill of rights
even though they never were intended to be permanent any way
It would be nice to not have to explain a Corporatocracy
all my life Ive been into Egyptology
You do know that Imhotep was the actual founder of medicine
by a good 2000 years
not that Hippocrat
the thing is
I'm still learning
when attempt to delve that deeply into people
which I don't even consider that deep
They often misunderstand
They often concluded without thinking
maybe
just maybe
©Christopher F. Brown 2015
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
Thomas, Roberts, Baker
Goodman, good men
I’m sure they all were.
But no man,
No saint or sinner
Can escape this quiet place.
Colossal wooden tombstone
Still aches though she died years ago,
Died years ago, and died alone.
Swelling roots the only sign
Her life on earth not carved in stone
Her story lost, like many here.
As time goes on the air gets cold
until only one marks
the dusty walkway.
They said this is what happens
when you get older
but you didn’t believe
until that fateful day.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 7:25 PM UTC
I’m a bad lover
I ask too many questions and some answers make me uneasy,
‘Am impacient, sometimes have low self esteem and sometimes I just think I’m the **** (I do really)
I’m a bad lover
I tend to inundate the objects of my affection with attention, cheesy poetry and random drawings that look more like kindergarden scribble.
Broken promises **** me.
I’m a bad lover
I am inclined to forgive with ease but remember with intensity.
I do not acknowledge moderation when it comes to kissing.
I sometimes prejudge according to my last relationships.
And somehow I am not afraid of being loyal.
I’m a bad lover
I love cats and warm, fuzzy feelings.
I’ll rather watch a documentary than a horror movie.
I turn awkward in certain situations.
I go to sleep listening to democracynow.org but think Amy Goodman should be a bit more energetic, it’s almost as if she’s bored or ****** off or something.
I’m a bad lover
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 3:24 AM UTC
she shuffled aboard
on the tail of rush-hour,
at bowling green,
brooklyn-bound,
70 unwashed scents in tow,
and a purple bergdorf-goodman shopping bag
stuffed with stains and soiled rags,
a crumpled ny post
and a white plastic bag,
the focus of her bare hands
as she sat down;
hands wrinkled and worn
but tough
like a boxer's;
silver strands of knotted hair,
fell over her face
etched in age and acrimony,
as she rummaged through the bag;
right eye closed,
feigning sleep,
I peaked over the aisle
through the left;
she untied the white plastic bag
unveiling dinner
in a styrofoam take-out container:
rice, beans and chunks of meat
smothered in red gravy;
a 5-dollar special no doubt,
stuffed into her mouth
with a black plastic spoon;
slurp....slurp....slurp
burp....lick..burp
she looked up,
flaunting a toothless smile of extreme delight
"SAY YOU LOVE ME!
SAY YOU LOVE ME!"
she screamed
to no one,
and everyone...
then barged through the door
at franklin,
scents, stains, rags et al,
tossing spoon and styrofoam
onto the
floor...
but for a few shaking heads
and wry smiles,
most were unmoved,
and glued to digital magnets;
she was just another
nut-of-the-day
on the ny subway...
~ Pablo (#fcbb)
10/21/2013
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 8:38 AM UTC
There was a time
where I didn't know anyone
with a child.
Where I hadn't been
a groomsmen
in three weddings.
Where I didn't feel as though
I were losing some imaginary race.
There was a time
when T.J. was still alive,
when Lisa was still alive,
when Peg was still alive.
But every flower wilts with time.
Some by choice,
some after a hard fought fight
and some after a long lived life.
There will be a time
when this all makes sense.
When I will see why my road
took the course it did.
When I will be humble
with my fate.
But time is relative
and it is man made.
Life is but a fleeting single flash.
It is just one big bang.
May 17, 2012
May 17, 2012 at 1:07 PM UTC
note to self: you're normal.
it doesn't matter if you like girls,
or if you make stupid ****** decisions.
you're a human being. it's okay.
note to self: stop jumping to conclusions.
you're not a mind reader. sometimes
you're just looking for ways to hate yourself.
you're just fine, don't worry about it.
note to self: don't rush things.
you'll get better at your own pace.
you don't do things that quickly and that's okay.
these things take time.
note to self: things will get better.
as diana goodman from next to normal said,
"you don't have to be happy at all
to be happy you're alive."
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 8:49 AM UTC
Kissed Faith good-bye,
Stepped into the night,
Met a man on his way
To the Forest.
Faith behind him,
Uncertainty before,
Wavering on his way,
Brown faltered on.
Such a cloud of witnesses
As to keep him from this path!
But then they met him,
One by one,
Catechist and Minister,
Deacon and Elder,
Murmuring and gibbering;
Wise fools wending their way
To meet him
In a clearing, deep.
Pink ribbons falling,
Snake-head pointing
Feet now stumbling,
Then running before
In a wind of curses.
Firelight red,
Congregants cowled, silent,
Save the voice of Faith,
The near-initiate.
"Faith, Faith!
Look to Heaven!"
Resist the wicked one."
Woods silent;
Devil, fiends, fire ... gone.
Only Goodman Brown
To stagger home.
Ironic morning sight:
Smiling faces of Salem town,
'Gainst downward gazing
Goodman Brown.
Jan 30, 2020
Jan 30, 2020 at 9:18 AM UTC
Changes
As people we are always asking for changes;
Spiritual, politically or just spontaneously
During the election a number of folks asked
and some even vote for changes
We hate, we love, and we deplore acts of violence
then and now: Now it haunts most people:
Some even would still consider shaking his hand:
Some got what their asked for, and some still undecided:
Let Us Not Become the Evil We Deplore.” By Amy Goodman
He never goes under the covers: he just love to be exposed
A ***** is a ***** in his eyes: He might asked to see the
Birth certificate, but not the death certificate:
but never the **** kit, the yearbook inputs or the
country clubs initial membership lists:
Birth for him meant still in control: death gone from one’s sight:
I was chatting to a friend one day, I said to him imagine
that everybody on this earth woke up one day
To find zillion of dollars in their procession:
What would that meant to others: the loss of the power:
Money is the leveler that runs the world
The bad things that we done in our youngers years
Will one day comes back to haunts us
The statutes of limitation is just the statue
Time will not be forgotten: Memories lingers
The pain, the shame of being in a humiliated situation
we are living in a divided country
Because, of so much greed and bigotry:
A change is coming: and it's coming soon
who run the worlds Girls!!!
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 9:52 AM UTC
We all have our taste.
We all are judgments.
And in music there's no different.
Except, people personal opinions.
Benny Goodman.
Duke Ellington.
Glenn Miller.
Doing their time, they were the music of soul to many.
When people probably dance a little different.
Frank Sinatra.
Vic Damone.
Nat King Cole.
Doing their era music had changed.
More was borrowed from the previous decade.
Elvis.
Little Richard.
Buddy Holly.
Fats Domino.
Gene Vincent.
Jackie Wilson and Sam Cooke.
And yes, Pat Boone too.
The music of the soul were beaingt to a different tone.
Then came the sixties.
And a various style came before us.
The Rascals.
The Beatles.
Donovan.
The Beach Boys.
The Temptations and the Supremes and the Miracles.
Was totally changed from Neal Sedaka early days.
James Taylor, Carole King, Elton John and the Eagles.
Marvin Gaye, Teddy Pendegrass and the O'jays.
Was the masters of the seventies decades
The the eighties came.
And again the music changed.
Rick James, Prince and Madonna too.
Don't we see all the above artists in the music of today.
Especially, in rap.
Where they take an old song and tries to create a new tune.
And questions, why they getting sued?
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 9:17 AM UTC
listening to Benny Goodman’s smooth version of ”Tiger Rag”
composed at a time when tigers where not yet an endangered species
when soldiers were dying in World War I
and would die again soon after Benny first recorded it in the 1930s
I wonder how it is that music can be so divorced from death
maybe because, for the US, wars have always been fought elsewhere,
except for the Civil War - an issue that still occupies two research institutes
distance seems to create heroes more easily
even though they are not aware of it
music helps to maintain the division between here and there
only when the draped coffins are unloaded
those two worlds converge
and our sense of uninvolvement is exploded
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 7:10 PM UTC
Watch into thee,
that bitter night,
where goodman go and turn,
hither where the yonder tree,
of death and gore be ware.
Thee hears them marching,
one by one,
into the shadowed field,
where blood has soaked the ground,
and untimely death appear.
"Tis a battlefield!" shouts thee,
into the dark, cold wind.
"No man hath cometh and gone alive,
with all his soul inside."
Death hath cometh to his door,
many, many a time.
At which hour his heart yearns for treason.
to help the fallen men.
And at which hour the marching drums appear,
from the other side,
the man knows that he should surely die,
if he had ever tried.
For treason is a haggard crime,
which all in death, result,
and then the man should surely mourn.
the death of angels near,
he cries to them with painful voice,
"Tis a battlefield!"
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 10:27 AM UTC
I want to say I’m sorry - your present looks like that.
It wasn’t kicked by UPS or pummeled with a bat
The master wrappers I prefer, simply aren’t around
A slow economy got them or the covid cut them down.
My boys at Neiman Marcus, I miss those guys so much
and the girls Bergdorf Goodman had such a subtle touch
the lacy Le Bon Marché ribbons, are what set their work apart
no matter where you placed those gifts, they always looked like art
I miss those tasteful craftsmen, but instead of being depressed
I watched some Youtube lessons - and I tried my very best
but the present came out so miserably, I thought I should confess
Dec 21, 2021
Dec 21, 2021 at 9:10 AM UTC
Take me to the stars with you,
Let's get lost in wanderlust,
Fore to be lost with you, is not lost at all, to be lost with you is to be in love.
Written for Naomi Goodman
By Simon Gurteen
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
I miss you more than u know my dear friend
I remember you more than any body care to know;
I am mad at you more than you ever know for leaving.
I also know your father and mother miss you more than
I, we have all been crying since your passing away
I don't know why God allow death to rob us of you, but
I now understood that death will be the ruin of everyone including
I -by taking away all the good people that we love most.
I feel the pain of your death more deeply because
I felt you were a goodman with a great career and
I knew you would had Made a difference.
I had wish you had more time on earth like Methuselah had and
I do hope you make it to heaven so you can tell my mother that
I miss her a lot as you both walk in the city of light.
Dec 29, 2019
Dec 29, 2019 at 3:29 PM UTC
In the beautiful words of John Marcus:
“Sometimes words are a little too hard to catch. They flit and flutter all over the place almost impossible to catch, taunting and teasing me with the worlds I could create.”
And the last part caught my attention, upon reading it. “…taunting and teasing me with the worlds I could create.” Cause I've written a novel, and currently I'm writing its sequel, and I essentially created a whole world. A whole global history, a whole global culture, a whole everything on a global scale. George Lucas, that literal genius, created a whole galaxy, far, far away, along with Martin Goodman creating a whole universe, Gene Roddenberry created a whole world on the USS Enterprise, JK Rowling created the Wizarding World, Angie Sage created one of my favorite worlds, the world of a seventh son of a seventh son with a name with seven in it.
Writers, in their own genius creativity, write worlds into existence, cover to cover, create them and steer them in a beautiful direction: forward.
And then I remembered. God created man and women in his image, and God literally spoke creation into existence, and the Bible recorded the event into literary immortality. So if God spoke (literally) everything into existence, and we fall short of His Glory eternally, then couldn’t we create worlds? Not, like, literal, physical worlds, but maybe a literary world, like authors do?
A world you could get just as lost in?
And words, words, the beautiful creation of the written form, constantly taunt and tease me, they challenge me, they call out to me to keep creating and writing worlds into existence. But we don’t need to write worlds into existence to make our words amazing: even I myself have written small phrases, not just worlds, but sometimes even the smallest things have the biggest impacts. (IE, my toddlers.)
(John Marcus has a beautiful mind, seriously, it repeatedly blows mine away. Keep doin your thing, dude.)
:;,
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 11:20 AM UTC
You ride like normal
Buh inside is a soul so lost.
All the guys u met
Had a peep in your dros.
Don't take the blame
It's not your fault.
It's hard to find a knight
In a shinny armour.
Buh Was it hard to say no?
To the whole show?
U let them have thier way.
In the end
Non ever stayed.
Cool girl.....
Ah feel for u.
Am not here to
Highlight ur imperfection
Buh young gal
Y don't u leave this death section
Lemi Introduce u to a new section
To a man hu carried all
Your life burdens..
JESUS CHRIST
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 1:03 AM UTC
God is coming yes she is
She is forever I know this
She'll lift me up to the lands above
I will always intertwine with her forgiving love
She will still save you be this evermore
We will restore our religion there's a door
Heal the rest lets not leave them bear
Love, energy, and peace is all we should cease
Open your mind then you will see
Everything that is going on and suppose to be
We were first you took the thrown away
We will not fight back it's the evil way
Someday you will see until then we bless thee
I love everybody that I may
Wish you had more common sense that I pray
So you may see the truth that's at lay
With this I leave you till another day
Just remember we will find a way
COPYRIGHT 2010 DUSTIN R. GOODMAN
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
THE BEAUTY SHINES THROUGH THIS DARK DECAY
NOW MY EYES ARE FULLY OPEN AND I'M OK
GAVE UP ON MYSELF, LIFE, AND EVERYTHING
DEATH WAS BETTER CAUSE I HAD NOTHING
THIS ANGEL CAME DOWN TO SHOW ME LOVE
GREATER THEN YOUR GOD COULD FROM ABOVE
SHE HEALED MY HEART AND HELPED ME LIVE AGAIN
I WILL ALWAYS BE THERE FOR THIS GIRL TILL THE END GODDESS THANK YOU FOR BEING A PART OF MY LIFE
**** BY THE DARKNESS BUT NOW I SEE THE LIGHT
NO MATTER WHAT WE WILL FIND AWAY
I WILL NOT JUST LET MY WHOLE WORLD SLIP AWAY
C2010 DUSTIN R. GOODMAN EDITED 2012
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC
Thy animal kingdom, eyes of the stars, will watch over you, Heavens not that far. Open your heart true love beyond the skin, forget about this decaying world of sin. Life is so simple, flesh is so dead, just for once use your head. Focus on yourself, the energy within, stop being lost on pitty stuff my friend. Earthly things all soon will come to a end, it is your spirit you need to mend. Drama, money, and lust all will fade, but with the right mind set, you will have it made.
C2012 DUSTIN R. GOODMAN
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC
It was only gonna be a little three-hour jump
‘Till the barometer bottomed out and the Minnow went bump
But you make chocolate milk when life gives you turds
Ain’t nothin’ like Thurston Howell and The Thirds.
When that sightseeing gig hit a bit of a snag
It stopped that tight trio from bein' everyone's bag
Because, Daddy, those cats are just too cool for words
Ain’t nothin’ like Thurston Howell and The Thirds.
TH III drips with sophistication,
But it don’t stop the man from syncopatin'
They trumpet like elephants ‘n twitter like birds
Ain’t nothin’ like Thurston Howell and The Thirds.
It’s Thurston on the keyboards settin’ the pace
Little Buddy on drums, the Captain on bass
Wowin’ folks drinking coconut shaken-and-stirreds
Ain’t nothin’ like Thurston Howell and The Thirds.
They blow sixteenths and eights and do it in style
Cooler than cats on any charted isle
Keep your Goodman Quintets and your Thundering Herds
Ain’t nothin’ like Thurston Howell and The Thirds.
Sep 8, 2017
Sep 8, 2017 at 11:44 AM UTC
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
Jun 22, 2019
Jun 22, 2019 at 10:40 AM UTC
When asked where I have been
No worries
of course not
no
I’ve been out doing white things
Nothing unwhite I swear
You can ask my friends I was being white
You always catch me at the wrong times
I have recordings
Time stamped
Documented
Notorized
that I was being white
I already prayed to white Jesus 3 times today
Yes!
I know
My girlfriend is white
I have sustained that
Come on!
Its documented
what else?
I did
Yes
Yes classical
Yes NPR
Yes I watched Amy Goodman too
Yes word for word
memorized it
I sent my test in
20 minutes after
I was the first one done
Yes I did that too
come on!
Yes look it up
Yes Obama
of course
okay I will check in tomorrow
thank you
click
Im getting a passport
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 9:19 PM UTC
It’s the summer of 1937
Gertrude is only fourteen
She and her older sister sneak out of the house
And Gertrude’s eyes have that certain gleam
She’s mesmerized by the big city lights
It’s something they’ve never seen
They go into a club to see Benny Goodman
As the big jazz band plays Sing, Sing, Sing
- - -
Henry has just turned twenty-five
He and his friends go to see Cab Calloway
They dance having the time of their lives
Jumping and jiving celebrating his birthday
Drinks and libations, it’s a celebration
Henry and his friends are enjoying the show
Cab on stage sings “hidee, hidee, hidee, hi”
And everyone replies “hidee, hidee, hidee **
It’s the fall of ‘51
- - -
Sylvia lowers the needle on to the record
Seeing Duke’s name go around and around
And the piano starts with a pretty rhythm
Then the band joins with a big wall of sound
The records starts with it don’t mean a thing
Sylvia is dancing by herself in the living room
The eighteen-year-old gives it a good swing
Sylvia is dancing by herself with a broom
Spring 1946
- - -
Roger and his friends have a free weekend
They hear Glenn Miller is in the neighborhood
So they take a cab to a jazz club downtown
And you guessed it, they were in the mood
Inside the club Roger sees a beautiful brunette
He knew he’d remember this for the rest of his life
Summoning some courage he asks her to dance
That was the night Roger met his wife
May 1st, 1944
A week later he went off to fight in the war
- - -
Oh to dance
To romance
To take a chance and be young forever
To have those moments frozen in time
To have them resurface from the darkness
To have them move and groove again,
it’s divine…
Henry cries remembering that night
Sylvia recalls dancing all alone
Gertrude’s eyes gleam, lucid once again
And Roger knew he’d make it back home
The nurse smiles as she plays another song
The iPods are filled with a big jazz catalog
Memories seems to come flooding back
Temporarily lifting dementia’s fog
.
.
.
That’s the power of music
Nov 10, 2024
Nov 10, 2024 at 4:30 PM UTC