Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"mingus" poems
Thomas, Tommy baby, you are both hot, and sweet. Tom Cat you’re red hot-- when I catch you in your Tom Cat Strut, sauntering across campus, strolling like it ain’t no thing, cuz it don’t meant a thing if it ain’t got that swing baby. So dig this, Tommy Gun, you groove with the best of ‘em when I spot you strollin’— Your head, teetering left and right like a seesaw, boppin’ baby, arms hangin’ loosely, swinging freely, wildly, go! go! legs scooping forward in boisterous trombone slides-- Groooooove Tommy baby! You’re Louis’s best blows-- ten feet from the mic and the Fives baby, you’re hot, red hot, any closer and I'll burn up! Go! But you’re cool, real cool, and oh so sweet. Super sweet-- in your beard like a pepper and salt shaker tossed across the table, I look to see those rosy lips part, and peep those pearly whites shinin' like the bell of Louis’s cornet brandished in the air, under those ballroom lights-- you’re screamin’ Tommy! Let me hear that laugh that shakes the room, punches like Blakey’s bass drum, thumps like Mingus-- T-Bird you’ve got that hard bop in your soul, you’re gonna bop to the top TB, into the third heaven where the angels fall in line to your swing, that incessant strut that keeps the devil at bay, Blow! Blow! Blow! And I see you now Tom Cat, up there in the clouds, digging your way across eternity, bopping and jiving, swinging and blowing, in your faded khaki pants and worn tennis shoes, loosely buttoned collared shirt, tight rectangular glasses that glistened the bell of your eyes even more-- I gotta stand twenty feet away Tommy baby! You glance down at me and wink, rearing your head back to let loose that Mingus and Blakey bottom-end laugh, guffaw guffaw guffaw!!! --so hearty and rich, the backbone of every nervous first-year classroom, and the sniggering seniors you continued to befuddle and dazzle with your mysterious ways and insatiable swing. So blow, Tommy Gun, blow! Go Tom Cat go! Dig T-Bird dig! Let loose Tommy boy! Swing for us, swing swing swing-- Hot and Sweet, Tommy baby, hot and sweet.
0
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 1:55 AM UTC
Hot and Sweet
Thomas, Tommy baby, you are both hot, and sweet. Tom Cat you’re red hot-- when I catch you in your Tom Cat Strut, sauntering across campus, strolling like it ain’t no thing, cuz it don’t meant a thing if it ain’t got that swing baby. So dig this, Tommy Gun, you groove with the best of ‘em when I spot you strollin’— Your head, teetering left and right like a seesaw, boppin’ baby, arms hangin’ loosely, swinging freely, wildly, go! go! legs scooping forward in boisterous trombone slides-- Groooooove Tommy baby! You’re Louis’s best blows-- ten feet from the mic and the Fives baby, you’re hot, red hot, any closer and I'll burn up! Go! But you’re cool, real cool, and oh so sweet. Super sweet-- in your beard like a pepper and salt shaker tossed across the table, I look to see those rosy lips part, and peep those pearly whites shinin' like the bell of Louis’s cornet brandished in the air, under those ballroom lights-- you’re screamin’ Tommy! Let me hear that laugh that shakes the room, punches like Blakey’s bass drum, thumps like Mingus-- T-Bird you’ve got that hard bop in your soul, you’re gonna bop to the top TB, into the third heaven where the angels fall in line to your swing, that incessant strut that keeps the devil at bay, Blow! Blow! Blow! And I see you now Tom Cat, up there in the clouds, digging your way across eternity, bopping and jiving, swinging and blowing, in your faded khaki pants and worn tennis shoes, loosely buttoned collared shirt, tight rectangular glasses that glistened the bell of your eyes even more-- I gotta stand twenty feet away Tommy baby! You glance down at me and wink, rearing your head back to let loose that Mingus and Blakey bottom-end laugh, guffaw guffaw guffaw!!! --so hearty and rich, the backbone of every nervous first-year classroom, and the sniggering seniors you continued to befuddle and dazzle with your mysterious ways and insatiable swing. So blow, Tommy Gun, blow! Go Tom Cat go! Dig T-Bird dig! Let loose Tommy boy! Swing for us, swing swing swing-- Hot and Sweet, Tommy baby, hot and sweet.
Continue reading...
61
_the mythic Esther notwithstanding_; the only Jewish Miss America was Bess Myerson;  Miss New York, & exemplar of classic beauty  c.1945 studying German philosophy living on the upper east side; surrounded by rich Park Avenue Jews - spewing Nietzschean Nihilism causing them to  _shudder_ at the thought of relatives dragged from homes  never to be seen again; they don't want to hear that **** - my buddy Mingus Jr. bringing mechanical bebop to his constructed paintings;                                                 on the other hand, I'm going on & on about Heidegger & Schopenhauer, Brian Eno, David Bowie, Hegel, ****** Goebbels  & Riefenstahl; my paintings are violent; as if Jack the Ripper & James Whistler were the same guy; all women are beautiful by nature, but I would've done it different - put the snooch on top, the udders on the bottom, *** in front, arms & legs splayed out to the sides;    yes, that's better,   Diane Arbus, Ann Frank, Hannah Arendt,  Dori Bernstein,      Alison Linefsky    &  Eva Hesse are more beautiful than Lilith & Eve mixed; I hate being called a antisemitic; it's a painful reminder that at the moment I don't have a Jewish gf
0
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
How Rare is Semitic Beauty
The jukebox plays that old time swing What a wild sound, a jumping fling I've got it bad today, a fever for you Think of us, when I'm feeling blue Sinatra say that having it bad, Well it ain't good and I'm so glad So when I'm down and out, I'll turn you on That old timey jazz, for me it's the only one Art Tatum I'll turn you up loud Swanky Szabo, amasses a crowd Slim Gaillard, that crazy sound Teagarden's trombone all around Mingus and Ayler, Rollins and Miles Dalindeo and Niechęć all those styles I'll dance the moonlight serenade and these hepcats, will never fade Dry up daddy-o and focus on sanity Sonny still struttin' with such vanity Wayne Shorter quartet on a starry night Jazz has me goofy but feeling alright I've been feeling grummy for far too long Remedied with an old Billie Holiday song
0
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
A Short Sunday Sonnet
Imagine young Rita to be too small to walk Mingus properly And instead of a yuletime stroll a one-dog sled team over yonder hill rolls
0
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 10:58 AM UTC
Angry December Eskimo
In her eyes you can see death himself smiling back at you telling you a date. She has no clue i say in my mind, not but one clue!. She goes with him only wanting his eyes, they're bodies soon lay in **** sweat. The wind cooled off the room, and soon everything was quite. Hello? sounds a faint voice of a british school girl in search of her Rolling stone father. He left with cold war and the silence lasted long. Her tender eyes met his one day, old and frail. He died knowing she stood for everything she stood for; Love,hate,war,fight, *** and the slightest thought of Homosexuality, yes ADONAL Homosexuality. She walked the lonesome evening with the icy fear of death but it hit her other wise- she died hopping to find her old father humble and beautiful in the night. HEaven smelt of jazz and Claire de lune, the gods played Mingus for days and then some rock and roll, HA! devils music they called it. Where are we? and god said, you are in my hunting ground for bad men wanting the clouds. sure its a beautiful place but its hot here, its uncomftorable for me. Please believe me like all the other poor ******** who did. All those idiots and stupid folk queers, rapists, phycos , Negros and the Notorious white man himself… believe me. How else would you live without dying? this gives me comfort for all else is but a ******* lie and a promise i have made to you, i will not die? ******** Is this why we have religion? to comfort man from the thought of death? Stop breathing on me.
0
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 1:04 AM UTC
The poem that may cause stir up do to offensive words that are in no mean meant to be offensive.
In her eyes you can see death himself smiling back at you telling you a date. She has no clue i say in my mind, not but one clue!. She goes with him only wanting his eyes, they're bodies soon lay in **** sweat. The wind cooled off the room, and soon everything was quite. Hello? sounds a faint voice of a british school girl in search of her Rolling stone father. He left with cold war and the silence lasted long. Her tender eyes met his one day, old and frail. He died knowing she stood for everything she stood for; Love,hate,war,fight, *** and the slightest thought of Homosexuality, yes ADONAL Homosexuality. She walked the lonesome evening with the icy fear of death but it hit her other wise- she died hopping to find her old father humble and beautiful in the night. HEaven smelt of jazz and Claire de lune, the gods played Mingus for days and then some rock and roll, HA! devils music they called it. Where are we? and god said, you are in my hunting ground for bad men wanting the clouds. sure its a beautiful place but its hot here, its uncomftorable for me. Please believe me like all the other poor ******** who did. All those idiots and stupid folk queers, rapists, phycos , Negros and the Notorious white man himself… believe me. How else would you live without dying? this gives me comfort for all else is but a ******* lie and a promise i have made to you, i will not die? ******** Is this why we have religion? to comfort man from the thought of death? Stop breathing on me.
Continue reading...
5
Many years ago, I went to this little Irish bar. On Sunday nights, there was a jazz band. They played Monk Mingus Coltrane Miles and the Duke. I drank gallons of ****** marys on those hot summer nights. Dill pickle spears, and green olives came up later on those hungover, dreamless mornings. I was young. I wasted the days, lying in the sun, bayonetted by youth. Copper colored skin, tin soul. I would go thousands of miles, chasing that train, before I would be forgiven.
0
Dec 11, 2024
Dec 11, 2024 at 9:35 PM UTC
It Took Years
i see Charles Mingus crying like cool jazz. i see Lauren's head in my lap. i see The Stranger spin on the turntable. i see a broken night. i see haze high near the ceiling. i see headphone cords, whose ends hurt my ears. i see the same chord progressions driving me mad. i see love fading in a passerby's eyes. i see chapped lips. i see my debit card, i run it as credit. i see the 10 foot tall stack of paperwork on my desk. i see my know-it-all confidence. I see my god complex. I see your god complex, and know mine is greater. i see *** smell it, hear it, taste it, feel it, want it. i see cars stampeding towards me down the hill. i see neon signs for strip clubs. i see prophetic signs, i ignore them. i see my professor's approval. i see computer screens. i see my finger reject the call from a former fling. i see ****** music. i see sad faces, day after day. i see my mind disconnected from my body. i see boys in fraternities. i see girls in barely anything at all. i see my roommates and i yell for no reason--- we laugh. i see society coming to eat me alive. i see when i trip. i see when i get up. i see when i don't. i see when i let my friends down. i see when i pick them up. i see my eyes closed. i don't see what they want from me.
0
Dec 29, 2010
Dec 29, 2010 at 1:19 PM UTC
Neon Lights
tracing circles within circles on a blue eyed afternoon concentric breaths inhaled on a current laced with bloom into August morning tides where the pull is slack inside memories’ fading weight receding half past black how thoughts flicker in a circular motion! how breezes cut the vernal flow hyacinths whistle their devotion of God’s reflected glow perfect circles of a hometown summer born of heat and light and haze perfect circles in the ether spherical stay the solstice days
0
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 12:36 AM UTC
better *** it in your soul (Mingus Ah Um 1959)
No sleep leaves Him sleep deprived, He hides beneath His drooping eyes, And comes home to dwell Within the silence of the night. Before spreading across the bed, He places his patched jacket Above the ground, on a hook, To hang, suspended for the flipside. A glance at the clock tells him it’s three, Plus a quarter turn to the right. It’s always before dreams, it seems, That he feels the need to pull Out pen and paper, to write. Very soon, he knows, It will be bright. And lights will shine in, To wake him up, again. Sometimes, though, He likes to pretend, That there isn’t an end, To this nocturne world. So while he… His, mind dances along the moon, With a little more wandering, His thoughts seem in tune, To a jazzy Twilight atmosphere, And he hears - The quiet orchestra Of his thoughts, Amidst the dark. For a short time, He’s moaning with Mingus, absorbing Etta. At last, his sleep has come along, As he dips into the Milky Way Until his thoughts are gone.
0
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 1:41 AM UTC
Dancing With Dawn
It was the best night of my life... after having come back from playing my fife, I was just working on my ligerature When I saw a distant figure. It approached me with a cold surrounding air, Beckoning me to join in its heir. I looked for its face, And saw the blessing of Charles Mingus's grace. He slowly walked up and whispered ever so quite, "Have you ever made a sacrifice for the Mingus ever so pliant?" I replied back: "I have not, I apologize for the lack." but unfortunately, it was not enough, So he grabbed me by the collar, ever so ruff, And told me tentatively, "I am the only God, I deserve only your worship attentively." So I bowed down to my controller, My holy Excalibur, The one who put me to sleep, The one who has come to reap.
0
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC
A Mingus night out...
A Beautiful Hurt So you hurt. So what, We all do. But the beauty hurts so good. And the miseries of our past, can only define our future if we let them, these memories we hold onto from the past, we are not them. Your Scars, are watercolors, your Demons, make beautiful music, your Hearts, beat for all tomorrows, your Passions, always conquer all your sorrows. But let’s, not be destructive, for that’s, not our heart's true function, once in, this life, there’s only one way out, and there’s no need to rush it,  and yes, we have more than our fair share of problems, but there’s no need to stress it, we all have problems and learn from our mistakes, so when we make a major mistake there's no reason to regret it, so whatever. So you hurt. So what, we all do. But the beauty hurts so good. And that makes our moments of bliss, that much more beautiful, shine your Lovelight Joseph, upon that darkness like you're Lucifer, you are a fckn ∆rtist even when you're delusional, and you harness the chaos to harass the mundane, and show the whole world the beauty you can make from the pain. You're a monster, tuned into the frequency all real no gimmicks, an emotional alchemist turning hurt into heal, making beats because those we love live forever through our music RIP Mingus. When you finally find freedom again, you will find the illusion of Time to just be a diluted delusion of Mind, find, freedom, right here, within your Self, no one can make you do anything you don’t wanna do, even when they tell you their totally skewed world views are true, most of this is just distractions anyways, what is the worth of their emotions anyways, I’ll love you unconditionally anyways, because true love is expressed in many ways, no matter what the cause for the confusion is, contusions with bruises and welts on Self, beat your ego up and down until you scream in mercy, until you give up all of you including your Self, until you stop fighting and you let go, let go, so you can go! So, you hurt. So what, we all do. But the beauty hurts so good. – ∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆ – Volume 1 The H Trilogy City of Angels I just published a new book. If you could take a moment to check it out, and even write a review it'd be most appreciated. All profits go to a charity that prevents child abuse and ****** assault. So not only are you getting an epic book of poetry, but you're also supporting a good cause. Thank you SO much! ∆ https://www.amazon.com/Trilogy-City-Angels-Aaron-Lux/dp/1535054328
0
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 7:25 PM UTC
∆ A Beautiful Hurt ∆
A Beautiful Hurt So you hurt. So what, We all do. But the beauty hurts so good. And the miseries of our past, can only define our future if we let them, these memories we hold onto from the past, we are not them. Your Scars, are watercolors, your Demons, make beautiful music, your Hearts, beat for all tomorrows, your Passions, always conquer all your sorrows. But let’s, not be destructive, for that’s, not our heart's true function, once in, this life, there’s only one way out, and there’s no need to rush it,  and yes, we have more than our fair share of problems, but there’s no need to stress it, we all have problems and learn from our mistakes, so when we make a major mistake there's no reason to regret it, so whatever. So you hurt. So what, we all do. But the beauty hurts so good. And that makes our moments of bliss, that much more beautiful, shine your Lovelight Joseph, upon that darkness like you're Lucifer, you are a fckn ∆rtist even when you're delusional, and you harness the chaos to harass the mundane, and show the whole world the beauty you can make from the pain. You're a monster, tuned into the frequency all real no gimmicks, an emotional alchemist turning hurt into heal, making beats because those we love live forever through our music RIP Mingus. When you finally find freedom again, you will find the illusion of Time to just be a diluted delusion of Mind, find, freedom, right here, within your Self, no one can make you do anything you don’t wanna do, even when they tell you their totally skewed world views are true, most of this is just distractions anyways, what is the worth of their emotions anyways, I’ll love you unconditionally anyways, because true love is expressed in many ways, no matter what the cause for the confusion is, contusions with bruises and welts on Self, beat your ego up and down until you scream in mercy, until you give up all of you including your Self, until you stop fighting and you let go, let go, so you can go! So, you hurt. So what, we all do. But the beauty hurts so good. – ∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆ – Volume 1 The H Trilogy City of Angels I just published a new book. If you could take a moment to check it out, and even write a review it'd be most appreciated. All profits go to a charity that prevents child abuse and ****** assault. So not only are you getting an epic book of poetry, but you're also supporting a good cause. Thank you SO much! ∆ https://www.amazon.com/Trilogy-City-Angels-Aaron-Lux/dp/1535054328
Continue reading...
82
We met over the flat lands of dream chasing Where our common passion and will brought us 13,000 feet into the stars Fire pits and lunch bells had never brought people closer to a reachable goal She was the definition of beauty With quiet hints of fire and eloquence She could move mountains And that's what she did You could see it in her eyes True desire for completion She grew as tall as the trees we were surrounded by And they could not contain her She was as free and bold as the mountain peaks we lived on As calm and gentle as the breeze that embraced us each morning And as mysterious as the secrets she never told The rocky paths we took jolted our heartbeats and shook our cores But brought us to our destinies She wanted nothing more than to be a small ripple in that lake A small dose of change in a world that needed something more She became my rock That supported me on my way to self discovery She never chipped She never cracked under the heat or pressure She watched as I burned everything that made me who I was She became the wind that blew me into the right direction And the trails that lead me home safely That mountain captivated us only for a short moment But she is still captivating me to this day And nothing was more breathtaking then the views from Mingus Mountain Until I left the mountain and really looked at her
0
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 11:31 PM UTC
Mingus Mountain
Living this life's ain't nothing But a struggle It's a hustle tryna make a **** Bustle Enemies out for self grab the tech on the shelf To protect my health got my pride And stealth Stop chasing the wealth cuz it leads to death Put ya soul up for ransom got **** son Wake up and see the sunshine at the pearly Gates of hell say ya want heaven but can't bail Only if I see a jail cell or a bullets that sail Into my head as I lay dead rains covered Over my casket had to masked a simple task As my survivors take a sip.of liquor In the flask And see a flash of me reminscin' G on the Good times.and writing rhymes far from sublime Shake up my mind got.damn I'm Dreamin' Like Williams smoke I gotta roll One Flex my gun at the shadows taste the plateau My legacy leavin' blood stains from a drain In ya brain hallucinate like ******* things ain't the same Fools ain't tame to the game So the same things keep repeating change Ya views as I try to run away from the pangs That stangs so if you an enemy we can peace Easily or better yet a cemetery my destination Is to the see the sinners lady a Mingus touch Double Dutch the chocolate delux **** got me in a crutch And much Folks say they ain't feelin' me.but I gives **** What they say about me eternally I slam Em harder than Ken Griffey in Cincinnati Red means ya dead all aboard the night train Takin' thrills pass the migraine a highway Of liberty corridor see the war that mirrors The horrors spirits is a reflection Of the physical Been real since I was in my mothers umbilical Chord my words laid with Michael's sword An angel of war packin' more hammers than Thor either Or Suckas don't wanna go against the black Theodore A rough rider who'll slide ya the older I get the wiser Hypnotize ya with the thousand yard stare And don't care see the devil's glare we a pair My fame and fortune don't mean nothing Stand up for something or die for nothing
0
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 6:14 AM UTC
Geto Veteranz
Living this life's ain't nothing But a struggle It's a hustle tryna make a **** Bustle Enemies out for self grab the tech on the shelf To protect my health got my pride And stealth Stop chasing the wealth cuz it leads to death Put ya soul up for ransom got **** son Wake up and see the sunshine at the pearly Gates of hell say ya want heaven but can't bail Only if I see a jail cell or a bullets that sail Into my head as I lay dead rains covered Over my casket had to masked a simple task As my survivors take a sip.of liquor In the flask And see a flash of me reminscin' G on the Good times.and writing rhymes far from sublime Shake up my mind got.damn I'm Dreamin' Like Williams smoke I gotta roll One Flex my gun at the shadows taste the plateau My legacy leavin' blood stains from a drain In ya brain hallucinate like ******* things ain't the same Fools ain't tame to the game So the same things keep repeating change Ya views as I try to run away from the pangs That stangs so if you an enemy we can peace Easily or better yet a cemetery my destination Is to the see the sinners lady a Mingus touch Double Dutch the chocolate delux **** got me in a crutch And much Folks say they ain't feelin' me.but I gives **** What they say about me eternally I slam Em harder than Ken Griffey in Cincinnati Red means ya dead all aboard the night train Takin' thrills pass the migraine a highway Of liberty corridor see the war that mirrors The horrors spirits is a reflection Of the physical Been real since I was in my mothers umbilical Chord my words laid with Michael's sword An angel of war packin' more hammers than Thor either Or Suckas don't wanna go against the black Theodore A rough rider who'll slide ya the older I get the wiser Hypnotize ya with the thousand yard stare And don't care see the devil's glare we a pair My fame and fortune don't mean nothing Stand up for something or die for nothing
Continue reading...
52
The things we have no use for anymore line the sidewalk where chalk once marked hopscotch for days before the rain washed it away. Back then one night we listened all night long to Joni Mitchell and Charlie Mingus, most likely Miles Davis, Louis Armstrong, Jimi Hendrix. Things led to things; we danced, we drank red wine. I've known no better time. Sell the records, the sofa with my long impression. Give away what doesn't sell. What I dread is not the night but morning, coffee in an empty room, black coffee scalding hot. Don't sell the coffee maker. It's a good one, very hard to replace.
0
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 4:55 PM UTC
Fire Sale