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Nexus Jul 2018
Isn't it funny how his blood smells like his blade.
It must be the metal, quantum level the same.
Every possibility in time lead to this line.
A faceless man writing this rhyme.
In a world so messed up he thinks it's his fault.
Turning to drugs, he lost all his hope.
And now sits alone worrying how to cope.
Can't stop smoking dope.
He never visioned he'd be happy,
And it shows.
-Nexus
ShamusDeyo Feb 2015
Down in the Hills of the
Mississippi River Valley
Between the Bluffs and
The river bank in Lansing
Is a Friend named Joe Price,

Born to Play the Blue's
Raised on Farming as a Boy,
Yet was a need he could not lose
He listened to Muddy Waters
And ran out to buy a Guitar

An old 1947 12 String National
Resonator with the Steel Core
He rapped his fingers around
Till his blues skills got honed

He was Destined to play with
Legends like John Lee ******
Willie Dixon and Clifton Chenier
Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee
Along with Muddy Waters and Me

I know I'm no legend but I can't Refuse
When Joe ask me to Sit in on a Knee Slappin'
Hand Clappin version of the Hobo Blues
His work boot stomped a beat
On an old flat piece of wood
As that steel Slide made that Guitar Cry

A Legend behind the Scenes he's
Played from the North down to
The Louisiana Back Bayous
And everything in Between

You'll Never Know that feeling
As the Hair stands on your Neck
This hardly known old Hobo
Was a Legend what the Heck

Till you get a chance to listen
To his Train whistle slide Moan
That 12 string Steel Guitar Tone
That sounds so very Nice
From an Unknown Legend
Name of Joe Price

*His Music can be found on http://www.joepriceblue.com/
I played a Hawk release Party with Him, they released a Healed Artic Hawk, we Played a bar together, the place shook so bad from Happiness and Dancing the owner swore he would never have music again...Another Blast from my Past.... 25 Below Blues is my favorite
Seema Aug 2017
Chirping sound outside,
From an old resonator.
In the late evening,
Sets a tranquil ambience,
The cricket sings from afar.

©sim
Tanka
5-7-5-7-7 syllables
iCRY Oct 2018
The girl who cried wolf
strokes of colors, being engulfed
Engulfed in the trance of colors
Blending, turning colors into lovers

Every stroke, every color
blank pages into power
a beautiful mess
relieved a viewer's stress

A wonderful painter
A bleak resonator
Cried wolves in the night
Shows the power of her might

She plays with colors
A palette of blurs
Landscape of truth
Beauty,that soothe

— The End —