"sax" poems
The great New York metropolitan
stretching its vibrancy
trafficking its wears.
Car horns combating in contemptuous arguments
habituated eardrums unwittingly pulsating
Great buildings upward; towering behemoths in grandiose splendor
This great asphalt jungle sprawling its electricity for blocks,
for miles
The jazz of the city continues the chanting; the sounds of bass and the blowing of the **** sax, the horn, the piano
and the drums drumming on its rhythmical beat
Beating hearts feeling the vibrancy; the shock waves of nuances echoing the great hustle
Multitude of voices singing praise to the different tongues;
vibrant in diverse rejoicing, the poetry of men and women
Metropolitans claiming the world condensing into small
blocks and listening to its RHAPSODY.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 7:29 AM UTC
Come in and enjoy the Night-Light Hotel
Where Pillows and Perfumes meet and relax
And Therapy takes either Bond or Belle
And Goldfish blow this Friday's Bubbly Sax
Here upon registry your Token awaits
The Flannel up-hook which you strip and wear
Then wait for your turn as your Number rebates
A little whilst knowing your Musk reeks there
I for one made this Malicious Decide
And tempt my ****** to swallow this Treat:
Upper-Lower Left; Upper-Lower Right
Then descend into Base - Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh!
Stud or Salome, let Conscience give choose
But trust me to say I am a Man too.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 11:12 AM UTC
Under the shining lights
Horns and trumpets blare
Take in all of the sights
This city has come alive
People stroll down the street
Rain splashes on the sidewalk
Tap your foot to the beat
As the music fills the night
Get on the floor and dance
The sax man does his thing
This could be your chance
The swing band's letting loose
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 8:25 AM UTC
white clouds swell up
anvil bloom
a lowering gloom
scuds by
stacatto drops
on the windshield
punctuate
powerline sway
radio crackle
sparks
sheets of tenor sax
and blunt
gusts of cool
I lower the window
and steer
into the storm
Tom Spencer © 2018
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 8:33 PM UTC
THE SAXOPHONE STORY
BY RAJ NANDY
The Saxophone is perhaps the most expressive
instrument next to the human voice.
Was made by Adolphe Sax, a Belgian, through
a deliberate choice!
He wanted to offset the tonal disparity, -
Between the string, wind, and brass instruments,
with musical clarity !
He felt that the strings ones were overpowered
by the wind instruments.
While the wind instruments got overblown by
the brass ones instead !
Now what would happen if the best qualities
of these three instruments types,
Could in a fusion blend and coalesces into a single
instrument type ?
So finally at the age of 20 years, in March Eighteen
Hundred and Thirty Four,
Adolphe Sax created a magical instrument for the
World to hear and adore!
It had the power of the brass, the flexibility of the
strings, and the woodwind’s variety and tone;
Which got christened after Adolphe Sax as the
SAXOPHONE !
Adolphe’s famous composer friend Hector Berlioz
in Paris City,
Gave this new instrument wide publicity!
In 1844 the Sax was presented in the Industrial
Exhibition at Paris;
And subsequently got patented on 20 March 1846.
It soon got adopted by the Bands of the French Army.
Making other instrument makers to become green
with envy!
The Sax was 80 years old when it became part of the
musical instruments of the Jazz Band.
A small bore mouth piece was created to suite the
varying tonal qualities required by Jazz.
Initially, 14 different sizes of Sax was created by
Adolphe.
Today only five types are in use for us to hear and
see;
The Soprano, Alto, Tenor, Bass and the Baritone
Saxophone.
They now form a part of our Jazz music's backbone!
- By Raj Nandy
FOOT NOTES :
Adolphe Sax (1814-1894) , son of famous musical instrument maker
Charles Joseph Sax of Belgium. Woodwind Instruments = Flute, Clarinet, Bassoon etc. Brass Instruments = Trumpet, Tuba, Cornet etc. String Instruments = Violin, Guitar, Harp, Banjo etc. The Saxophone today has become the very backbone of Jazz Music!
** ALL COPY RIGHTS ARE RESERVED BY: - RAJ NANDY **
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 11:06 AM UTC
Easily Tux
Laxity Use
Laxity Sue
Taxis Yule
Taxi Yules
Tau Sexily
Axe I *****
Yea Xi ****
Yea Xi Lust
Aye Xi ****
Aye Xi Lust
Ail Yes Tux
Sail Ye Tux
Ails Ye Tux
Italy Ex Us
Laity Ex Us
Taxi Lye Us
La Suety Xi
Talus Ye Xi
Lax Yeti Us
Lax Suety I
Lax Ye Suit
Lay Exit Us
Lay Suet Xi
Lay Tuxes I
Lay Ex Suit
Sat Yule Xi
Taus Lye Xi
Sax Yule Ti
Sax Yule It
Say Lie Tux
Say Lei Tux
Say Lute Xi
Say Exult I
At Yules Xi
At Yule Xis
At Yule Six
Tau Lyes Xi
Tau Lye Xis
Tau Lye Six
Tax Yules I
Tax Yule Is
Ax Lieu Sty
Ax Yules Ti
Ax Yules It
Ax Yule Tis
Ax Yule Its
Ax Yule Sit
Ax Lye Suit
Ya Isle Tux
Ya Lies Tux
Ya Leis Tux
Ya Lutes Xi
Ya Exults I
Ya Lute Xis
Ya Lute Six
Ya Exult Is
Ay Isle Tux
Ay Lies Tux
Ay Leis Tux
Ay Lutes Xi
Ay Exults I
Ay Lute Xis
Ay Lute Six
Ay Exult Is
A Lyes I Tux
A Lye Is Tux
A Ex I *****
A Ye Xi ****
A Ye Xi Lust
La Yes I Tux
La Yet Xi Us
La Ye Is Tux
Las Ye I Tux
Lax Yet I Us
Lax Ye Ti Us
Lax Ye It Us
Lay Ex Ti Us
Lay Ex It Us
As Lye I Tux
Say El I Tux
At Lye Xi Us
Tau Ex I Sly
Tax Lye I Us
Ax Lye Ti Us
Ax Lye It Us
Ax Ye I ****
Ax Ye I Lust
Ax Ye Lit Us
Ya El Is Tux
Ya Let Xi Us
Ya Ex I ****
Ya Ex I Lust
Ya Ex Lit Us
Ay El Is Tux
Ay Let Xi Us
Ay Ex I ****
Ay Ex I Lust
Ay Ex Lit Us
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
Ko Ko to Go Go
a prelude to a kiss
dance with Chubby Checker
lift a slo gin fizz
Head bobs to Be Bop
flip the B Side now
mellowtune in monotone
two ears for stereo wow!
Wonderment of Duke and Miles
swinging kool birthin boplicity
urban crush the hipsters rush
jazz joints cross the city
Firery sax emote a clash
strain ears of credulity
Lester leaps creative heat
nips harden on my *******
Max taps exotic wax
Django's quick pickin
finger snaps flip my lid
lips deliciously sippin
Eurozone a Zen zone
a blue infinitive smokin
big peeps dig don pink wigs
fat spliffs hot token
My new suede shoes
walks west end blues
Pop's cornet got me tippin
his open blast first to last
I like cornbread, barbecue
and fine home jazz cookin
jbm
Oakland
3/12/10
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 6:41 PM UTC
you are the Pres
Oh Donald Trump
it seems like America
has hit a bump
your pitiful braggart
mean as a cuss
a bludgeon for a mouth
with a mind full a ****
its understood
you hate the press
you like the shadows
to relieve your stress
well big boy
you are the man
some people say
your loved by the clan
thanks for telling us
about the size of your *****
while conservatives smile
and give it a lick
your a star studded pageant
of confusion and lies
do you work for Putin
are you one of his spies
show us your taxes
are you a ***** for a foe
are you owned by a devil
we need to know
your purging the swamp
is that what you say
Exxon and Goldman-sax
so thats how you play
you talk so big
why not give it a rest
lets see what you can do
besides be a pest
it doesn't bode well
that you don't pay your bills
let subcontractors go under
so what if it kills
break up some families
of Latin decent
with a heart like a razor
are you really that bent
are you big blabber mouth
but don't a have clue
about our constitution
that keeps us true
we trust you completely
let your kids to the job
no problem at all
are you still friends with the mob
are ethics for others
ah to hard for Trump
will America wither
are you cancerous lump
we need some one
who can help us out
not a reckless fool
that fills us with doubt
you are the Pres
Oh Donald Trump
it seems like America
has hit a bump
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 9:07 PM UTC
***
Way to fleece…
A taxpayer
They’ve got us singing the blues
And we’re not down for all that jazz*… leave that to the Sax player
We remain mind boggled by these selfish ‘leaders’
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… ‘Dude! Way to bleed us!’
We’re already scraping the floor for crumbs… are they trying to run our finances into the ground?
“You work for us you pompous ********** it’s not the other way around...”
Midnight meetings in secretive silence
We preferred it when their nonsense made a sound
We’re ashamed and infuriated
But what makes it worse is that we’re not surprised
It’s like they strive to be truly hated… and yes, they've gotten themselves despised
More and more by the day
As each day goes by
We would throw them all out if we could
And our actions would be understood
Unfortunately we can’t do this for they are skilled at defiance
Masters of political science
And at it they are that good
Liars
Cheats
The campaigning politician...
Seducing us with deceit when he comes out on the street
To make his energetic speech
And then...
The elected Member of Parliament...
Only campaigns for his financial gain
Once he’s assured that for a whole term his position is permanent
That’s where they've slipped up, and I thought they were a smart lot
Schemious at least
Such a wrong move in an election year
Do they not fear… getting dropped by the voter?
Two hundred and twenty four MP’s… dead weight in deep water
And can’t swim
Should they have asked for my advice prior, I would have told them to simply cease and desist
“Do not dive in…”.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 3:53 AM UTC
Metamorphosis from the start of the day,
January’s promises,
had so much to say.
The beginning of the cycle,
to the end of the new.
The remnant of the spring morning dew
moves summer breeze
into leaves of a green hue,
and the Heartache of July.
The sun rose and set with You,
until it rained
and the skies once again turned a somber shade of familiar blue.
Metamorphosis of the self,
turning like a snake.
Shedding the skin of heartache and
remaking myself, again.
Metamorphosis I bloom and break,
I wither and wake
through the hardships of the year,
taking a new found shape
of me-
The moon wanes and waxes,
while the heart mends and sax’s
continue to play sweet melodies from the month of May,
and we are reminded of the day
that breaks and dawns.
The body yawns
from the weight of the year.
Yet still, the metamorphosis blooms and births
a new beacon of light,
preparing herself for the thirty-first night
and the turn of the calendar, again.
Dec 18, 2022
Dec 18, 2022 at 9:49 PM UTC
I wanted to eat you alive with my heart,
Disseminate my love for you,
soul coughing a Heimlich dance routine
that struggled to keep us one.
You were to busy ignoring the coward
that kept me alive
to see the bravery fighting chance
and drawing curtains against fate
There was feeling in these young bones
where the medicine was make believe,
all sugar coated fiery tales to drive us to the well,
wishers of hope forgot that love is an effort.
Liars will tell you that there is just one,
and that one and one is one, and I too,
will lie to you but only to keep the placebos
sweet jesus if you knew the truth.
There's a colourful cobweb
I tangled round us
And yeah, I'd take the floor away,
if it would keep you falling for me.
There is not a thing I wouldn't do
to keep the demons from your door
And the wolves in docile dream states
Nodding yes to your every request.
But Memory lane is no place to build a future,
Lets move past all the haunted houses
and build the home from more than cards
glued together with coffee stains.
Fits of laughter and pits of passion
litter landscapes of love in foreign places
where speaking in tongues
becomes common language.
Blissfully aware of our ignorance
We turned a blind eye to status chorus,
breathing freeform jazz into
independent harmonies,
Shards of Shotgun Showers
Add bass to blissful dreams,
A sense of the real, reeling us in,
A foundation shaken in eternal sin,
As the sax plays us out,
its a standing ovulation,
that keeps us on course,
encores are for failures, and things that... stop.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC
.*i can think of one cool job... a nighttime DJ on a radio station... anything more cool than being a DJ between the hours 12am through to 5am? honestly... can't think of a cooler job... all the song requests are gone from the classical.fm show between 3pm and 5pm... now one is telling you what to do... **** me... as a kid... either a veterinarian, or an owner of a music shop... now? an insomniac DJ... they would never play Christopher Young's Something to Think About in the afternoon... sorry... i'm a Hellraiser cult-follower of the first two movies... and that song? why? i just can't be bothered with listening to that Braveheart over-scratched Song of / for a Princess... it's good... once in a while... but, come, on!*
just one of those nights...
having listened to the scoops
from the alternative...
worried your to hell
about not having *******
enough concerning
the previous day's load
which would make the pleasures
of **** *** look tame...
perched on a windowsill -
solving a sudoku -
and listening to
Frank Zappa's occam's razor...
and wishing:
making sure it was never
hot in the city
by Billy Idol,
or Kiss' crazy nights
to usher in the night,
and the watchman...
why?
it's not your standard
guitar solo...
it's a medley...
big difference...
guitar solos are bound to
a strict return to the rhythm
section...
they are caged beasts...
composed of a restricted
time constrain in a song...
but a guitar medley?
**** me...
it's what obliterates
a need for vocals...
the guitar medley is
the vocals substitute...
and that aspect of music?
mm... gummy bears...
jelly in the knees...
which is why i like
the fact that jazz is the antithesis
of classical music symphony...
sure... i get the Schubert / Schumann
piano duets...
nice...
but jazz?
the breakdown of the quintet?
**** let me count...
piano, drums...
bass... horn... sax...
yep, a quintet...
that moment in a jazz
song? where each instrument
player gets his solo?
genius!
the same with a guitar medley...
neither solo,
nor the rhythm section...
what a beautiful opening
to what i expect to be,
a beautiful night:
as the watchman once said.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 6:34 PM UTC
Sax,
clarinet,
grade 8,
scales,
sight reading,
frustrate.
Super rock,
teaching,
french cafe,
logic,
preaching,
don't go that way!
Camp,
sociology,
tech,
music,
general,
respect.
cleaning,
brother,
size,
love,
loss,
surprise.
feet,
freedom,
modelling,
workout,
fear,
not bothering.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
WHITNEY HOUSTON LYRICS
"I Will Always Love You"
If I should stay
I would only be in your way
So I'll go but I know
I'll think of you every step of the way
And I... will always love you, ooh
Will always love you
You
My darling, you...
Mmm-mm
Bittersweet memories –
That is all I'm taking with me.
So good-bye.
Please don't cry:
We both know I'm not what you, you need
And I... will always love you
I... will always love you
You, ooh
[Instrumental / Sax solo]
I hope life treats you kind
And I hope you have all you've dreamed of
And I wish you joy and happiness
But above all this I wish you love
And I... will always love you
I will always love you
I will always love you
I will always love you
I will always love you
I, I will always love you.
You.
Darling, I love you.
I'll always...
I'll always love you.
Ooh
Ooh
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC
He recently shared something with me about holding hands. Everything written in the piece was true. From the start, his hands have made me feel safe, nurtured, needed, adored, wanted, and healed.
See, I rarely let anyone touch me before. Human touch was not something I craved until him. I didn’t know how much I needed it until I wanted it, but he did.
As he reached for my hand yesterday , as he does countless times, I began to notice things on a deeper level. I saw the structural beauty and strength of his hands; his skin color, his beautiful fingers, the veins, the hair pattern. I reflected on how many keystrokes they typed and words they’ve written. I thought of how many times they played the sax and played video games with skill and passion.
Then, I remembered this past year. Those hands created a beautiful room for me in his home. Those hands literally moved ALL my physical belongings exclusively on their own. They held my hair as I was sick with my head over his toilet. They actually mopped up my cats’ ***** when it was overflowing at my old house.
They have painted, caulked, sawed, sanded, created, recreated, cooked amazing meals, chopped countless veggies, cut every piece of meat he served me, taught me to use his PS4 controller, dried my hair, colored my hair, massaged away my pain, and given me love I didn’t know existed and more.
His hands have been blistered, scraped, calloused, cut, pricked, sore and he doesn’t complain; they never stop giving nor does he.
And I’m so grateful and honored to be the one whose hand he holds forever...
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 4:55 PM UTC
oh such few words are minded,
no bravery apart
from the homosexuals
as skeletons in the chronicles of Narnia
being discovered among
the skeletons of tyrannosaurus rex
making a bed with its wheelchair able
paws - and the flag of the Cymru
fire-breathing turtles before excavation
and the myths of the mandarin too;
now tell me the sub-human plot with the
Normans when the anglo-sax reigned
to teach me to unlearn english
to avoid assimilation,
like you taught your former colonial subjects
to integrate and to alievate keeping assimilation:
which you taught to unlearn the mother's
tongue and learn a discrimination
against furthering the multi-cultural project...
which you taught to integrate and
keep at loss a sacred soul of never assimilating
akin to jew...integrate i must,
assimilate i care not for should i be totally
albino or asserting bleached with peace:
albino oder beteuern gebleicht mit frieden.
integrate i must to utilise the coinage
but to assimilate i must turn into a reggae african
with roots in the Caribbean than the Ivory Coast...
and god willing i will not claim to be
an arab's brother to settle karma over
uplifting the curse over Mecca with ibn Saud's
clock-tower; burn!!!
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 11:07 PM UTC
The sun is slowly going down,
And summer breeze glides down my skin.
The moves of water calm me down,
The sounds of sax and guitar strings.
Amazing views and birds around,
I reach some joy and, maybe, peace
And while I stare at rosy clouds
I feel nostalgic bittersweet
Jul 19, 2021
Jul 19, 2021 at 5:12 PM UTC
Last night I reached my hand out to the monster under my bed whose eyes usually glow scarlet and whose teeth typically gnash and snap but this time had the same deep brown eyes and average teeth that I do
Last night I pulled my skeleton out of the closet and we danced to the blue jazz that floated through my window from the sax player below and then we played never-have-I-ever and watched SciFi TV on Netflix
Last night I asked the mermaid down the bathtub drain if she'd like to come up for a swim and we laughed and splashed and sat on my roof in the star light talking about love and sushi recipes and where to get a really good haircut
Last night I called out to the werewolf who roams these parts as he called out to the silver globe of a moon and I gave him some salad because he's a vegetarian and he showed me pictures of his pet bunnies Morningglory and Killer
Last night I covered the mirrors and opened the shades for my vampiric friend Velma, a quiet girl who volunteers at the animal shelter and soup kitchen
Last night I said good night to my nocturnal friends and went back inside to turn off the lights and make sure my dog was inside who I call Albertius Rex but was previously known just as Cerberus
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
one two three with fire
heavy with your memory
thick silhouettes peer
&
the sax next door sings
you, blown away by fusion
of my tongue to you
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 10:09 PM UTC
were you a 50's
godchild in the city,
wing-tipped feet
running the streets
all week, ketchin hell...
then you gots that check
come friday
and needed a taste of heaven...
you and the dog pound
swung mid-town
to broadway & 47th
after 9,
and joined the line spilling
from the royal roost round 48th...
by 10, the joint was jammed
with gents well-coifed,
matching honeys, and the sounds
of money being made:
chime of silverware ~ cling,
and the cash register's ~ swish cha-ching,
and the chatter of guests,
servers and bartenders
doing their thing ~ wah da bing
then the lights dimmed
leaving a semi-dark haze
of gray smoke swirling
over the crowd,
and mc symphony sid
grabbed the mike:
*"...welcome to the friday nite jam session
at the metropolitan bopera house
ladies and gentlemen...."*
hysterical hoots and applause
followed
as the circular spotlight paused
center stage,
unveiling:
~ the miles davis nonet ~
featuring,
max on drums,
john on keys,
gerry and lee on sax
and a genius
on trumpet
'twas the birth of cool
and soon the rhapsody
of modern jazz
waxed hypnotic,
casting a spell
over god's children
when budo chased lady bird
down allen's alley,
spittin'...
riffin'....
boppin'...,
poppin'.....
superfluidity
like acid through
varicosed veins
the earth stood still
it seemed
for 4 thrilling hours
as heaven rained a rifftide
onto the lucky crowd...
and dewey's sublime trumpet
exorcised the devil
from the week that was...
~ P (Pablo)
(7/24/2013)
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 5:13 PM UTC
this is a poem about happiness.
this is also a poem about how great life is, see? here's a metaphor
comparing nature to the faultless
form of a pedastalized lover,
here's a description of the
effect of changes in air pressure
and localized temperature
fluctuations
on physical matter in a given area.
here's a bland truism that
anybody can relate to.
here's a couple rhyming stanzas
about the ethereal shifting of
connecting threads which
cause all life to dance upon
the cosmic stage like food poisoned marionettes.
here's an ode to the wrinkles of
my ******** and
the bits of fuzz that occasionally
find their home in my *****
here's a sonette to the drop outs
doing better than me
here's a dirge for the businessman
that hangs himself
and a jubilee for his widow
who earns nothing off his death
because he left his entire estate
to his catamite.
I'm writing a symphony in color,
notes of fermenting wood
dogshit and coffin dust.
the violas swoop and drone
the piccolos trill fast enough
to excise your gastrointestinal system
the barotone sax wheezes
and the timpani drum rumbles
(the flutes sit motionless because
**** flutes)
the pianists fingers are bleeding
hes banging with stumps now
his face contorted in ecstatic glee
as if the face of god has parted
the clouds just to scrape his gums
clean with his dietous ****
and lo faint is the whisper
which climbs and slithers
between the
false,
bash upon life with both hands.
here is life here is death
let me show your life
let me breathe your wretching
like squandered
like roots in the soil,
paint your everlasting cave drawing
in the face of your kitchen
and dance around a fire
let the embers lick your heels
til pagan viciousness overtakes
your quivering form.
gasp it in
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 2:47 AM UTC
*I breathe in your essence
the musk of morning ardor
mingle of last night still lingers
heat permeated somewhere
between pearls & lace
lust, the scent of you
ignites the longing flames
I feel the blaze building
hot musicality beat in our *****
waves of ecstasy wash over me
eagerness of nether bliss
wet warmth should be a clue
sans lace should be your cue
wrap these pearls
around your ardency
lavish me with
your male machismo
I'll fervently submit
to ravish your firm desire
tune you like my saxophone of love
play that instrument
all the night and day long*
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 5:37 AM UTC
We sat stupefied with the expats,
eyes wide open telling lies
between repeats of
La Bamba & Lady Grinning Soul.
Peter Gunn screamed sax
through the hypnotic-haze,
the place was a ******* rat hole.
Sticky seats smelt like
**** burnt toast & dead feet.
A one-ton greasy bartender
sat on a low stool,
drooled on his cigar
rather than smoking it.
He counted his dough
about every six minutes.
Shadows of waifish tired-women
floated by us like wispy-clouds.
With tricks hand-in-hand,
they moved in and out of
the proverbial back rooms,
an odor of primordial-slime hung.
This was what they called
the tropical-island high-life,
a swanky place where ten bucks
could get you an hour of whore-thrills.
It was actually a cheap-ass brothel
disguised as a night club,
tucked away somewhere
in the middle of nowhere,
the skankiest
of Never Never Lands.
It was by far,
the saddest place
I've ever visited on Earth.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 8:24 PM UTC
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
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 8:29 AM UTC