Dear Poet Friends, I had posted Part One of the Story of Jazz Music in Verse few months back on this Site. Today I am posting Part Two of this Story in continuation. Even if you had not read part one of this true story, this one will still be an interesting portion to read especially for all lovers of music, and for knowing about America's rich cultural heritage. I love smooth & cool jazz mainly, not the hard & acid kind! Kindly do read the ‘Foot Notes’ at the end to know how the word ‘Jass’ became ‘Jazz’ way back in History. Hope to bring out a book later with photographs. Thanks, - Raj Nandy, New Delhi.


STORY OF JAZZ MUSIC  IN VERSE PART – II

    NEW ORLEANS : THE CRADLE OF JAZZ
BACKGROUND:
Straddling the mighty bend of the River Mississippi,
Which nicknames it as the ‘Crescent City’;
Founded in the year 1718, as a part of French Louisiana
colony.
New Orleans* gets its name from Phillippe II, Duc d’ Orleans,
the Regent of France;
A city well known for its music, and fondness for dance!
The city remained as a French Colony until 1763,
When it got transferred to Spain as a Spanish Colony.
But in 1800, those Spanish through a secret pact,
To France had once again ceded the colony back!
Finally in the year 1803, the historic ‘Louisiana Purchase’
had taken place, -
When Napoleon First of France sold New Orleans and the
entire Louisiana State,
To President Thomas Jefferson of the United States!
(See Notes below)

THE CONGO SQUARE:
The French New Orleans was a rather liberal place,
Where slaves were permitted to congregate,
To worship and for trading in a market place, on
Sabbath Days, their day of rest.
They had chosen a grassy place at the edge of the
old city ,
Where they danced and sang to tom-tom beats,
Located north of the French Quarters across the
Rampart Street;
Which came to be known as the Congo Square,
Where you could hear clapping of hands and
stomping of feet!
There through folk songs, music, and varying dance
forms, -
The slaves maintained their native African musical
traditions all along!
African music which remained suppressed in the
Protestant colonies of the British,
Had found a freedom of expression in the Congo Square
by the natives, -
Through their Bamboula, Calanda, and Congo dance forms
to the drum beats of their native music.
The Wolof and Bambara people from Senegal River of West
Africa, -
With their melodious singing and stringed instruments,
Became the forerunners of ‘Blues’ and the string banjo.
And during the Spanish Era slaves from the Central African
forest culture of Congo, -
Who with their hand-drummed poly-rhythmic beats,  
Made people from Havana to Harlem to rise up and dance
on their feet!   * (see notes below)

CULTURAL MIX:
After the Louisiana Purchase, English-speaking Anglo and
African-Americans flooded that State.
Due to cultural friction with the Creoles, the new-comers
settled ‘Uptown’,
Creating an American sector separate from older Creole
‘Downtown’.
This black American influx ‘Uptown’ brought in the elements
of the blues, spirituals, and rural dances into New Orleans’
musical scene.
These African cultural expressions had gradually diversified,
into Mardi Gras tradition and the ‘Second Line’. ^^ (notes below)
And finally blossomed into New Orleans’ jazz and blues;
As New Orleans became a cauldron of a rich cultural milieu!

THE CREOLES:
The Creoles were not immigrants but were home-bred.
They were the bi-racial children of their French masters
and their African women slaves!
Creole subculture was centred in New Orleans after the
Louisiana Purchase of 1803,
When the Creoles rose to the highest rung of society!
They lived on the east of Canal Street in the French
Sector of the city.   @ (see notes below)
Many Creole musicians were formally trained in Paris.
Played in opera houses there, and later led Brass Bands
in New Orleans.
Jelly Roll Morton, Kid Oliver, and Sidney Bechet were
famous Creoles,
About whom I shall write as this Story unfolds.
In sharp contrast on the west of Canal Street lived the
***** musicians;
But they lacked the economic advantages the Creoles
already had!
They were schooled in the Blues, Work songs, and Gospel
music .
And played by the ear with improvisation as their unique
characteristic,
As most of them were uneducated and could not read.
Now in 1894, when Jim Crow’s racial segregation laws
came into force,       # (see notes below)
The Creoles were forced to move west of Canal Street to
live with the Negroes!
This racial mingling lighted a ‘musical spark’ creating a
lightening flash, -
Igniting the flames of a ‘new music’ which was later came
to be known as JAZZ !

CONTRIBUTION OF STORYVILLE :
In the waning years of the 19th Century, when Las Vegas
was just a farming community,
The actual ‘sin city’ lay 1,700 miles East, in the heart of
New Orleans!
By Alderman Story’s Ordinance of 1897,  a 20-block area
had got legalised and confined, -
To the French Quarters on the North Eastern side called
‘Storyville’,   - a name which was acquired after him.
This red light area resounded with a new seductive music
‘jassing up’ one and all;
Which played in its bordellos, saloons, and dance halls!
The best of bordellos hired a House Pianist who greeted
guests and was also a musical organizer;
Whom the girls addressed respectfully as ‘The Professor’!
Jelly Roll Morton++, Tony Jackson author of  ‘Pretty Baby’,
and Frank ‘Dude’ Amacher, -
Were all well known Storyville’s  ‘Professors’!
Early jazz men who played in Storyville’s Orchestras and Bands
now form a part of Jazz Legend;
Like ‘King’ Oliver, Buddy Bolden, Kid Orley, Bunk Johnson,
and Sydney Bechet.    ++ (see notes below)
Louis Armstrong who was born in New Orleans, as a boy had
supplied coal to the ‘cribs’ of Storyville!   ^ (see notes)
He had also played in the bar for $1.25 a night,
Surely the contribution of Storyville to Jazz cannot be denied!
But when America joined the First World War in 1917,
A Naval Order was issued to close down Storyville!   % (notes)
Since waging war was more important than making love,
this Order had said;
And from the port of New Orleans the US Warships had
set sail!
Here I pause my friends to take a break, will continue
the Story of Jazz in part three, at a later date.
                                               -Raj Nandy, New Delhi
FOOT NOTES :-
NEW ORLEANS one of the oldest cosmopolitan city of Louisiana,
the 18th State of US , & a  major port city.
LOUISIANA was sold by France for $15 million, which was later
realised to be a great achievement of President Jefferson.
*Many African strands of Folk music and dance had merged at the
Congo Square!
^^ ‘SECOND LINE MUSIC’ = Bands playing during Funerals & Marches evoked voluntary crowd participation, with songs & dances as appropriate forming a ‘Second Line’ from behind.
@ =THOSE LIBERAL FRENCH MASTERS OFFERED THE CREOLES THE BEST OF EDUCATION WITH ACCESS TO WHITE SOCIETY!
#’JIM CROW’= between 1892&1895, blacks gained political prominence in Southern States. In 1896 LAND-RICH WHITES DISENFRANCHISED THE BLACK COMPLETELY! A 25 YRS LONG HATRED &RACIAL SEGREGATION BEGAN. TENNESSEE LED BY PASSING ‘JIM CROW LAW’. IN 1896, THE SUPREME COURT UPHELD THIS LAW WITH ITS ‘’SEPARATE BUT EQUAL’’ STATUS FOR THE BLACKS ! THUS SEGREGATION BECAME A NATIONAL INSTITUTION. THIS SEGREGATION DIVIDED THE BLACK & WHITE MUSICIANS ALSO.
+ BIRTH OF JAZZ WAS A SLOW AND EVOLVING PROCESS, WITH BLUES AND RAGTIME AS ITS PRECURSORS . “JAZZ WAS QUINTESSENCE OF AFRO-AMERICAN MUSIC BORN ON EUROPEAN INSTRUMENTS.”  See my ‘Part One’ for definitions.
++ JELLY ‘Roll’ Morton (1885-1941): At 17 yrs played piano in the brothels, applying swinging syncopation to a variety of music; a great Transitional Figure- between Ragtime & Jazz Piano-style.  ++ BUDDY BOLDEN (1877-1931): His cornet improvised by adding ‘Blues’ to Ragtime in Orleans; which between the years 1900 & 1907 transformed into  Jazz! BUNK JOHNSON (1879-1849): pioneering jazz trumpeter, inspired Louis Armstrong; lost all teeth & played with his dentures! KING OLIVER(1885-1938): Cornet player & bandleader, mentor& teacher of Louis Armstrong; pioneered use of ‘mute’ in music. KID ORY(1886-1973): a pioneering Trombonist, he developed the ‘tailgate style’ playing rhythmic lines underneath the trumpet & the cornet, propagating early Jazz !
SYDNEY BECHET (1897-1959): pioneered the use of SAX; a composer & a soloist, he inspired Louis Armstrong. His pioneering style got his name in the Down Beat Jazz Hall of Fame!
Louis Armstrong(1890-1971): was a trumpeter, singer and a great
improviser. Also as the First International Soloist took New Orleans music to the World!
% = After  America joined WW-I in 1917,  a Naval Order was issued to shutdown Storyville in order to check the spread of VD amongst sailors.
^ ’cribs”= cheap residential buildings where prostitutes rented rooms.
# "JASS" = originally an Africa-American slang meaning ‘***’ ! Born in the brothels of Storyville (New Orleans)  & the Jasmine perfumes used by the girls there; one visiting them was  said to be 'jassed-up' . Mischievous boys rubbed out the letter ‘J’ from posters outside announcing  "Live Jass Shows'', making it to read as ‘'Live *** Shows'’! So finally ‘ss’ of ‘jass’ got replaced by 'zz' of JAZZ .
DURING THE 1940s  STORYVILLE  WAS RAISED TO THE GROUND TO MAKE WAY FOR ‘IBERVILLE FEDERAL HOUSING PROJECT’ .
  * ALL COPYRIGHTS RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR : RAJ NANDY

Friends, Part Two will get posted after a break. I have added short notes at the end, for appreciation of all Jazz lovers. To know how the word 'Jass' became 'Jazz', - kindly read the Foot Notes below. Best wishes, - Raj, New Delhi.

    THE STORY OF JAZZ MUSIC IN VERSE:
                         PART- ONE

                      INTRODUCTION
Before writing about this true Jazz Story,
I had delved into its long checkered history!
I had plowed through many articles and
books,
Making personal notes to make Jazz better
understood.
My love for this music flows in my veins,
From writing this true story myself I could
hardly restrain !

THE ATLANTIC SLAVE TRADE
The story begins some four hundred years
ago in History,
Drenched in the blood and sweat of the black
slaves which was no mystery,
Painting a sorrowful background to our Jazz
Story !
It was a time when the English , Spanish , French ,
Portuguese and the Dutch became frantic , -
To gain control of the slave trade across the vast
Atlantic !
Slave trade those days was a very profitable
business proposition;
The funds generated had also financed Britain’s
Industrial Revolution!

In 1619  a Dutch sailing ship had carried the first
lot of fifty slaves from West Africa, -
To work in the cotton, tobacco, and sugarcane
plantations of English Colony of Virginia !
Only twenty slaves had survived that hazardous
Atlantic journey;
And here my friends lies the roots of my Jazz
Story !
While it is true that in New Orleans Jazz got
cradled and also nourished;
But it had taken birth in the regions of Western
Africa where slave traders had once flourished!
Later, many more slaves were transported across
to work in the plantations of the Southern States
of America,*  (see notes below)
And in their hearts one could hear the tom–tom
and drum beats of native Africa ! * (notes below)

HOLLERS AND WORK SONGS
Those slaves took no musical instruments with
them,
And worked under the whip lash of their white
Overseers bound in chains !
But they had cherished their ancient music which
fed their hope and the will to survive;
And from the depth of their sorrow and suffering, -
sprung the rhythm and beat of their life !
While at work they were forbidden to talk to each
other,
So they sang in a rich sing-song voice and called
out to one another;
Which was not understood by their whip-wielding
Overseers.
They also called out and communicated to other
working gangs in the distant fields,
Who also replied back in a similar fashion to
make their communication network complete.
The ‘hollers’ and ‘work songs’ also did help,
To lighten the burden of their treacherous fate.
This ‘call and response’ later formed one of Jazz
Music’s basic elements,
As ‘improvised music’ got composed with Jazz
providing a proper vent.
From their tormented soul they sang to wipe away
their blues,
Giving birth to ‘blue notes’ later , for WC Handy
to pay his many handsome tributes !
The slaves longed for freedom and emancipation,
Singing their ‘spirituals’ with faith and devotion !
While singing they often got into a trance,
And felt like the Israelites in ******* in Egypt,
ordained by fate and chance !
The Mississippi was like the River Jordan across
which they hoped to see, -
A band of Angels coming in their chariots to set
them free,  @
From their suffering, drudgery, and captivity !
Thus ‘improvisation’ becomes a vital ingredient of
Jazz Music;  $
For ‘freedom of expression’ is its distinguishing  
feature, which Jazz music forever seeks.

CONCLUDING  MY PART ONE
‘Jazz’ had come to America in chains, buried
deep inside the black man’s soul.
With a longing for freedom from torture and pain,
Which was then beyond their control!
The tom-tom beats, work songs, Spirituals and the
Blues, -
Were all precursor to Jazz, and here I pause to
pay my homage and heart-felt dues,
To those valiant predecessors who had come in
chains ,
Giving a painful birth to ‘jass’, - from which Jazz
gets its name ! # (notes below)

FOOT NOTES:-
Slaves were sold at 15 dollars per head. Early 1700s saw 75,000 slaves auctioned! By1800s there were one million slaves in US alone! Slaves came from Senegal, Ashantis, Gold Coast, Niger Delta, Dahomey, & the Congo; with a variety of beats and music buried in their minds and hearts !
** The Drums were an essential form of communication in Africa. They believed their Gods communicated through their beats . Those drums provided the basic beats of Jazz Music.
+ 'Blue Music' = became a part of cultural landscape of Southern US by early 1900s, but had remained unnoticed till W.C.Handy published his song –‘Memphis Blues’ in1914.
@ I refer here to the famous ***** Spiritual song -‘Swing Low Sweet Chariot’ ! I use to sing this song in my Missionary School in Calcutta in the 50s !  Slaves had sung them in plantation ‘Praise Houses’ during their weekly prayer meetings.
# "JASS" = originally an Africa-American slang meaning ‘***’! Born in the brothels of Storyville (New Orleans)  & the Jasmine perfumes used by the girls there; one visiting them was  said to be 'jassed-up' ! Mischievous boys rubbed out the letter ‘J’ from posters outside announcing -"Live Jass Shows'', making it to read as ‘'Live *** Shows'’! So finally ‘ss’ of ‘jass’ got replaced by 'zz' of JAZZ !
$ “Improvisation” = is the process of spontaneously creation of fresh melodies over the continuously repeating cycle of chord changes of a tune, which distinguishes Jazz from all other musical forms - raising it to its own great Individualistic Heights !
….ALL COPY RIGHTS ARE RESERVED BY RAJ NANDY OF NEW DELHI---
E-Mail : rajnandy21@yahoo.in

This shows that the lion is less expensive.
Trying for Bettie's immortal glory
The space will be cleaned.
Medicines. The brain is part of it.
Paris is a very famous blue sky.
At a big party, Abub tried to try a house
Theater Theater. Below
It's a secret. Focuses on worshiping
The prostitutes and rules of Pittsburgh
Emphasizes the NIHHH. I went to Ian,
Young and police. He has received it
Greek clothes and clothes for women
City. The meeting was organized
in the light in Saskatchewan, CA.
Add strawberries and leaves. they
said too many things on the radio. Rain,
rain, rain, rain, rain and public protection.
Before buying your face, use white,
White, White, Bad, Glory, Scam, Scam,
Second Jass, Michael Michiko
He was arrested and sentenced
to three months For the elderly. It protects
the beautiful entrance And true love
is killed by six "six" men In jail
in Oregon, California. Johnny, Nancy;
[                      ] ...

They were laughing at the sign
that read “hugh jass party”
They passed it, laughing,
and headed down the hill
when D stopped them to say
“Hey, we’re missing someone.”
They were laughing at the sign
when they turned to find their friend
and the laughter stopped
at a bitter, bitter end.
When he dropped to the ground
they’d been laughing at the sign,
so they missed the cut-off
of his high-pitched sound.
The laughter stuck in their throats
and their legs froze in place as they watched.
His body was laughing,
his mouth too busy with foam to form the noise.
His body laughed
and quaked
and flinched
and his body became caked
with the dirt and dust
that he kicked into the air.
His body laughed
when security finally came
and they still stood
stock-still,
unable to come to terms
or understand who was to blame
as they carted him off.
He didn’t come back that day.
He didn’t come back that night.
He didn’t come back at all,
and they were forever haunted by the fright
they felt when the laughter died away that day.

One day the Queen of Ireland was sitting on her throne
She had her very stylish professional business suit on
She had her hair neatly coiffured
On her lap she had a Chromebook computer
which she was avidly looking at
And strangely, she was crying, yea! she was sobbing to herself
Her Top Aide seen her and immediately rushed over  
"Your Majesty, what's the matter ?" he inquired
But she couldn't answer him such was her distress
"Is it the state of the world" he asked, "is it...is it the climate crisis or the... the Brexit (the UK leaving the EU European Union), what!!!"
The Queen looked at him almost pleadingly and then finally she blubbed
"No! It's.... it's Bardo, he's written another poem"
"Bardo! " replied the Aide a little exasperated, "Not him again. You can't be getting upset your Majesty every time he writes a poem"
The Queen went on dreamily "What a beautiful heart but what a tortured soul"
She then looked at her Aide in a strict kind of way and said "It's no good, I've got to meet him, I've got to know him"
Her Aide cautioned against it, he said "Your Majesty shouldn't lower herself to seeking out some obscure poet guy, sure poets are two a penny in this country"
This angered the Queen, she stamped her foot and then said forcefully
"I'm the Queen of this country and he is one of my subjects in My Kingdom
I have a right, I have the authority"
So, so she issued a proclamation/ decree
In every parish in Ireland posters were put up seeking the identity and whereabouts of the poet Bardo.

Suddenly a lot of Bardos started popping up all over the place
Yea, lots of people were coming forward claiming to be Bardo
It was said in one County a strange man wearing a mask and riding a horse, with a sword dangling by his side came forward
He said "Are you looking for Zardo ?"
'No!' he was told "we're looking for Bardo"
"Oh!" he said and went off disappointedly.

The Queen knew these people they couldn't all be Bardo
So she used set them a test
"If you're Bardo", she'd say, "then recite to me a new Bardo poem, yes! A brand new poem"
This invariably would throw them all off
Suddenly they'd start getting nervous and unsure of themselves
"So you... you want a new Bardo poem"
Yes! would reply the Queen, you must have some newer poems or bits of poems
So one of the Bardos would begin rather shakily "Mmmm... Aaah... then they'd start to recite
"The Sweetness that was, it is no more
It's... it's flown out the feckin' door "
The Queen could tell straightaway "You're not Bardo "
Another of the Bardos began "The sadness it never ceases, it's a ceaseless sadness/ It's not a gladness, it's.. it's more of a badness.... your Highness "
Again the Queen passed a speedy judgement "Neither are you Bardo",
The Queen began to despair a bit about the dishonesty of people
She began to feel very gloomy and disheartened
That was until... until one day out of the blue she received a strange letter which was unlike all the other letters
It was from a lady who was a former nurse
She said her and a friend of hers had been Carers for an elderly couple for many years
And they had a son who they still kept in touch with, they'd go out for the occasional meal
Often he'd drink too much and then he'd start talking and would tell them that as a hobby to take him away from the stress of his job
He used write things mostly poems and he'd post them online somewhere
He said he wrote under a pseudonym but he wouldn't tell them what it was
She said that when the Queen issued her decree she went and read some of Bardo's poems
And she thought she could recognise some of the stories her friend told in Bardo's poems.  She suspected he might be... yes! Bardo.

The Queen was intrigued by this letter
It gave her new heart...new hope
But how... how could she proceed
Finally she hatched a plan, she thought she'd just visit Bardo's house on the pretext
That they'd received a report that Bardo lived around that area somewhere
She'd just ask him straight out if he knew of him
And see what his reaction was.

So the next day she set off in her big chauffeur driven BMW car
They pulled up to the driveway of a house
The house locked a bit ramshackley, in poor condition
It could have done with a new coat of paint
The tarmac too was very worn
And there were weeds growing in the flowerbeds
Inside the porch sun room it looked a bit rough as well
There were tools strewn around it like someone was working there
She rang the front doorbell
After a few moments a figure in a beanie hat answered the door
The Queen introduced herself and then asked if he knew of a poet named Bardo living in the area, that they'd received a report
The figure looked a bit stunned at first, then he smiled and bowed a short bow as if acknowledging who she was
Then he said "Bardo.... it's not a very original name for a poet, is it, is he any good ? "
"He's a wonderful writer I think", the Queen replied, "his poems they really speak to me, I'm a big fan, I'd love to meet him"
The figure pondered a moment then shook his head in a kind of amateurish theatrical way and said "Mmmm No, I'm sorry I don't... I don't know this... this Bardo"
Then he smiled and said "If I was a poet, an Irish poet writing under a pseudonym
I'd call myself something like... like Spudy Potato"
"Do you write?" asked the Queen
Here the figure stumbled a bit in his answer
He said"No!" and then stammered "Not...not really"
The Queen got a funny feeling about him, his replies and demeanor didn't seem to ring true somehow
So she changed tack, she said they'd been driving all day long and wondered might she possibly have a cup of tea as she was parched, she even said she'd pay for it,
The figure declined her offer to pay, saying instead he'd be greatly honoured to have her as a guest
Although he said he'd have to apologise for the state of his house
"It's a real Man Cave" he said inviting her in, "not much feminine influence here unfortunately".
"You live here all on your own", the Queen asked
He nodded and said a bit wearily, "All on my lonesome" and then smiling added "I have no one to talk to now not since my cat passed away"
(The Queen remembered Bardo's cat poems Tommy Tigers and The Defector)
"You're a cat person", she said
He smiled nodding his head "Cats are funny".
"You don't get lonely living alone ?"
"Oh! " he shrugged, "sure we're all alone in the end anyway" he said enigimatically
(The Queen was reminded of a Bardo poem The Great Alone)
He added again smiling "Didn't Oscar Wilde once say 'Living with yourself is the beginning of a lifelong romance'
When he went off to make the tea the Queen watched after him, she could see an inner room where there was a computer set up like a workstation...
As she waited she took a look around the porch sunroom, she could see some dust upon a table and on the window sills
And she noticed there were holes in the carpet which seemed very old
And also there were some spindly spiders up on the ceiling
She was reminded of the Bardo poem "I'll do anything for you Baby but I won't clean my house".
When he came back with two big mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits
The figure apologized again for the state of the room
He explained he liked to keep it looking a bit rough
As he thought no thief or burglar would be interested in robbing such a poor looking house.
She asked did he work from home
He replied "Ever since the Covid yes! we've had to work from home"
The Queen was reminded of the poem "Working from home".
Suddenly the figure went to say something but seemed to have some difficulty getting the words out
He stammered "Wh..wh...wh" then he stopped and apologised, he said he had a bit of a stammer sometimes
The Queen remembered in the poem 'Working from Home' Bardo had a stammer
He went on "What I wanted to say was why do you like this poet so much ?"
She thought for a moment and then said almost dreamily "It's the things he writes about Loneliness, longing, being empty inside, about his youth and the hope he had when starting out... it's like he's trying to make sense of his life...and he's funny... quirky things like that"
"But why would you be interested in those things, sure you're a Queen, you must have everything, your life must be so full"
"Sometimes it gets so lonely", she replied sadly, "it's like you're living in a bubble, I often wonder what's it all about, I feel so lost and alone sometimes... and so empty inside"
Suddenly the Queen sat up in her chair as if regaining herself  
She said, she admitted "You know"I haven't been completely honest with you, calling on you today
It was no accident
We received a report that you wrote poetry and that you post it online in secret
We thought that you might be him... that you might be Bardo
The Queen noticed a marked reticence or reluctance in the Poet
"Oh!", he said
So to assuage the situation she asked "Would you recite to me one of your poems... I'd love to hear one... please"
"Oh!", the Poet replied shyly, "you don't want to hear any of my ramblings"
"Oh yes I would ", she replied enthusiastically, "would you not recite one... one for your Queen"
She fluttered her eyelids, "Please! Pretty please "
The Poet smiled at this and at her enthusiasm
"Well I have one that I never showed to anyone, it's a bitter type of poem, a bitter Blues type of poem, it has some coarse language now
It's about a poet who writes but never seems to get anywhere, he feels he's been left behind... forgotten
It's called... I know you're not supposed to use clichés but this saying sparked/ inspired the poem, it's called "I couldn't even get arrested "
"Read it to me please ", said the Queen expectantly, "I'd love to hear it"
So the Poet rose to his feet and cleared his throat and began...

"I couldn't even get arrested

My soul it sings like a sad violin
Busking on a street where few ever come
From another street I hear loud applause and cheers
They want the young not some old gun like me
I couldn't even get arrested.

They pass me by and they don't bat an eye
Like I'm someone not worth knowing, my story not worth telling
"You think you're something special", they seem to say
"Man you're just wasting your time, you ain't got that Do Re Mi" -
I tried, Lord I tried, ain't no one tried harder than me
But I couldn't even get arrested.

I feel like Vincent Van Gogh must have felt
Pouring my heart out for all to see
Naked I stood there
But no one wanted me
All that time I gave to rhyme and nothing to show for it
Was I just ******* my life away
I couldn't even get arrested.

Browsing down the bookstore
Seems these days everyone's got a book but me
Young girls and boys writing books like their toys
Just for fun so it seems
But me, I couldn't even get arrested.

Is it a Jinx or what
Has someone put a spell on me
Or is it you're just no feckin' good...
I couldn't even get arrested.

So I guess I'll just keep plugging away
Putting it out there and hoping some day
Knowing nothing will ever come of it
I'm battered and broken and too old to care
I couldn't even get arrested".

The Poet stopped and looked over at the Queen a little uncertainly as if seeking her approval
She looked speechless, spellbound even
She rose to her feet and then exclaimed excitedly "Bardo!! It is you!"
She went on "I think... I think I'm in love with you"
"Yea", the Poet said a little dismissively, and gesturing to his room "come and live in relative poverty and obscurity with me"
As she stood there looking at him she was reminded strangely of a story from out of the Bible
The story of the sick lady who was trying to get to Jesus
But was hampered by the crowd
And she thinks "If only I could touch the hem of his garment I know I'd be healed"
She thought as she looked at him "If only I could kiss him I know I'd be made whole"
She edged closer to Bardo
"You've got lovely dark blue eyes"
He replied  looking down at her "Y'know you've got the loveliest, the cutest little nose there Queenie"
The Queen was reminded of Bardo's poem 'Little Perky Nose'
Her face moved closer to his, then suddenly she made a sudden lunge forward
She placed her lips on his and kissed him
(She even slipped in a bit of tongue there)
Suddenly there was this blinding flash
Outside, the Queen's big car had turned into this big bank of leaves
Which then collapsed on the ground and blew away in the breeze
Her chauffeur too, he'd turned into this big... this big Badger, he went scurrying off into the undergrowth
The Queen herself too, why she'd been transformed
Now instead of a Business suit, now she wore this lovely dress with lovely flower designs and  bright colours on it
And her hair, now it fell naturally in lovely thick long tresses down her back
Her face too, had been transformed, was radiant, she had these lovely rosy cheeks and brilliant shining eyes
The Poet looking at her, strangely he could only speak to her in the Irish (as Gaelige... pronounced '*** gale-le-ga')
"Ta tu go h-alainn", he said (translated 'You are beautiful '... pronounced 'Thaw too gut hauling ')
"Ta tu cailin deas" (translated "You're a Lovely Girl"... pronounced 'Thaw too Colleen jass"....)

He took her hand in his, needless to say from that day forth they both lived  happily ever after.

make your BEDMAS (order of operations)
progress comes with the doings
with care and consistency
to bend and stretch
catch, chuckle and continue
workin with what is there
copacetic with own humanity
respond, respect, reflect, rest, recalibrate
adopting virtues from natural cues
recognizing and honouring momentary opportunity
modify form to maintain or improve function
to find & stay true to form
the practice before the preaching
the sense to stay steady & strong

in the name of...
mums the word

tryna exist in superposition
may be miracles amidst the mist
the hierarchy of needs
just want to swing some hangouts
get a grip on it... or make one
the uber-micro-macrame

slow, natural growth is bootyful
back data assets up at re:*****
and all that jass
self rearview is easier with evidence
Do the gitch fit? Swag.
an unorthodox wholly mass

learning to translate the mess with age
****-handling methodology
...until morale improves
need some ballroom: to dance and sing
shimmy down for the shake up

like a strange numbers game
50% champignon of the field!
hundo pea sugar daddy!
bes yuz seksen dort

reasonably emote on that ****
In tune with your intuition
power of pronoia and placebo
making sense out of the shadows
rainbows through windows
emotional support sobaka

Daily efforts appreciated
cycle-logical improvements
the sign of a steady advance
another day and some more trottrots
stay on the ball and roll with it
now is always the perfect time
what we repeatedly do

doubling down on useful wayfinding
Pick a side-quest with your pomodoro
is that more "loyal opposition"?
did the heibai 69 make the greys?
HIGHBROW vs lowbrow ****

the luck of the i wish/careful what ye be wishing for
not my first rodeo / back on my bull double feat
ilio & lio paradox show / double feature show ponii

do onto others as you'd want done onto you next
in-sight and in-tell are in-side jobs
who are you accountable to?
Just doin' your personal best
it's just a body of work
intense brainstorming sessions
still an achievement if no man sees it
takin' my time with it
grindin' through the mystery business
nostalgia as a check-point
mending with connective solutions

In commune de cat, oh.
the cat's song is a mew's sing
seasonal skin shedding

bolstered to grow up amazingly
Maybe the roots go deeper than expected
giving mushroom to find the morel of hisstory
put peas on erf while handlin' the beets down
the magic beans talk & bee's knees
there is a trellis in the hedge, now
as fresh as I can get
encouraging of a sage perspective
rosetau far eye reggae-later

earning the stars and stripes
bootids, scootin' and a bogey
we like tha moon (coz it is close to us)
interstellar adventurer: 2supernova&survive
its ostarmonath awaiting in the skies
the ressurection of sol, brother
if aethera is to a terra like soil is to sol
soul are constantly

When things get loud
on high alerts for quick-in'd tell and excited awareness
the trouble with tribos is when it goes TENG
psyop multi-point conversion for bonus
One man's junk DNA is anothers inherited treasure trove of traits

is cailin me bean fear

yo, **, continue? skkrtskkrt

just got one thing to say *raspberries