Lou Reed , Mistral of his time
so you walked this road on the wild side
unique in music , never selling out
believing in Art instead of commercialize
Lou Reed the musician never compromised ~
Sweet Jane not enough for our crowd of eccentric rockers
still will live forever with the many that left before you
one can imagine from John Lennon to Johnny Ramone
a party in Heaven of the finest rock bestowed
no text , no MTV when they pursued a dream
New York, hotel Chelsea an age of Renaissance
ragged jeans and leather jackets ,Art on stage
No, your Rock not ever fade away , it will stay sweet Jane forever ~
For the fine Man with words , ode to Lou Reed .
The Memories of a Dancing Peacock
( Based on a true incident captured in my Camera )
I was in a mood to sing, and
The Peacock was in a mood to dance,
My singing came, while watching the beauty and
The beauty started unfolding its wings and charms,
As if the Peacock was listening the songs,
I was singing, silently in my mind.
Oh, what a joy it was to feel and share,
Those wonderful moments
I spent with that beautiful bird,
Who kept dancing and dancing,
Till the song continued in my mind silently.
You and I may not be dancing or living forever, O, bird,
But the image, which you have engraved on my mind and
The rhythms of that joy and pleasure,
Which you have left,
Would continue to generate always,
The music of silence and beauty in every mind.
Kanpur India 28th December 2011
NOTE:IMP. NOTE: The Memories of a Dancing Peacock
The Photo Poem cum Song is also on my Music Channel
"RavindraKK1" on U Tube. or you simply use this URL
For my Videos Songs on My U Tube just write on Google "RavindraKK1
and go on U Tube Channel - RavindraKK1
Out on the porch for a little recess
From life's daily chores, listen to raindrops
Pitter-patter, musical sounds request
From gentle breeze, which stirs windchimes non-stop
Nature's orchestra plays as in hammock relaxed lay
A novel to read or just nap away
Afternoon quietly, what more pleasure
Maybe do something risque
Meet with lover, love away rainy day
In deep caresses our love we'll measure
The flame will burn higher as our desire
Rises with each kiss and loving caress
As the rain's rhythm sets mood, love's red fire
Glows as love to each other we confess
Romancing to rain's music dance and sway
Raindrops, roses, love's desire only glows
Lover so glad you could be companion to
Maybe do something risque
As on the love seat, inflamed we repose
Not needing love potion our love to renew
Lover so glad that I met you today
Out on porch listening to rain's rhythm
Stirring music in my soul fears allay
Perfectly matched love's biorhythm
There are now no fears or life's dismay
Love come take me away to higher realm
Come, stay, don't just wait life's rainy day to
Maybe do something risque
Hold, caress, don't wait 'til life overwhelms
Love come stay please don't ever bid adieu
Contest: An Ode To Small Comfort On a Rainy Afternoon
Inspired by Friedrich Von Schiller’s poem,
The birth to a tumultuous...orchestral bliss.
The flicks of his wand was the rhythm he heard,
A call for dramatic attention...an extraordinary passage.
As he pulls...he demands...rejecting the three movements,
A dense prelude to what is to come softly emerges.
The lower strings of the orchestra sadly...grope,
And transcend into a new melody...a higher plateau.
Intermingling yet surprisingly...exploding into full orchestra,
The rhythm leaves his wand...to the choral of ode to joy.
A musical patriot with passionate poise...conducts in silence.
His soul’s final composition permeates from the gestures of his wand.
A deaf body with a mindful soul...fatigued and battered,
Deprived to listen to the thunderous applause...of his life’s magnum opus.
A steady heartbeat thumping in my ears,
Lost in my thoughts, the world around me a blur.
No longer do I feel the pain of living, no more tears.
But, when the music's gone, horrid things start to occur.
With no beat, no voice, no bass, my world collapses.
Cold and trembling, I find it hard to breathe.
Desperate to hear melodies again, wanting to be safe.
Gone is my confidence, struggling to live, happiness lapses.
Gone is my shield to protect me from the comments of seethe;
Their words cold and cutting have me under strafe.
Music had the ability to transport us to another world.
It helps us speak when words fail.
Music toys with our emotions;
Allowing us to feel what is being sung and played.
It can make us feel joyous, sorrowful, confident,
And even adventurous.
Music comforts us when people can’t and
Helps us let loose when we feel like it.
There you sit,
My baby grand,
Elegant and serene,
Full of untapped potential.
Your keys that sing
Like lovely songbirds
When struck right
Lay silent in waiting.
From across the globe,
From ballrooms and church halls,
Your melodic voice rings.
You are a siren; formerly loved
For allure and charm,
Now discarded over the ages,
Though your grace still holds true.
But alas, your beauty is being forgotten.
Your dissonant chords
No longer a means of expression,
But a chore forced down throats.
That is not what you are to me.
I take my seat in front of you
And brush the dust from your keys.
Little black birds on telephone wires
Scattered across the pages
Flit around in spite of me,
Impossible to keep up with.
I glance at the familiar names
Written at the tops-
Beethoven and Bach,
Mozart and Chopin.
They did not fabricate your marvel,
But simply tamed those
I wonder what a world mine would be without music!!!
Single tune of Melodie entice my soul
the beat unconsciously get my head nodding
plants a smile on my face
Within no time
my feet are on the floor
my body swaying............!!!!!
I wonder what a world mine would be without
without 'em amazing voices!!!!
The power of my spirit!
rhythm of my life
makes me conscious of my past
inspires me to anticipate my future!
It reminds me who i am!!!
I may not play
but always i feel it.
Music makes me visible
That everything is possible!!!!!
I played my part, in the praise of the Lord,
Standing by the choir box, on my own accord,
Deft hands created a heart, centuries old,
With gilded corners and polished wood, set my soul,
The young little fingers of a fairy, that kissed,
Struck a hammer, in my strings lips,
A mild tap of dance, on the brass right foot,
Would sustain my melody into an eternal mood,
Crafted with the ability, to sound like a lark,
Across octaves and sharps, six and half,
The bard who was deaf, could hear through my touch,
And create symphonies, for an interminable march,
When the ‘Rose of England’, reached the Lords’ Abode,
Elton’s tenor, rained heavens, on a grieving road,
With my hammers and tongs, I make the world think deep,
Or weave a sweet lullaby, that puts little hearts to sleep,
Needless to spell, I, reside in your hearts,
In exultation or sorrow, I am always your part.
In a dark room music plays with a slow beat,
the neon lights make you white panties and bra look like a street.
You move your body slowly and so sexy to the music,
while i look at you threw the darkness of the room set.
A big silver gun on my hip and a mountain of coke on the table,
and nothing can distract me from the beauty i see dancing so stable.
Your every move hypnotizes me,
I think I am going blind cause i am beginning not to see.
I look at your hair how it waves there so perfectly,
your legs move just like i want them to, so delicately.
You touch your breasts and you hold your but,
you give me that look in your eyes like your not wanting to stop.
You unbutton your bra and cover your breasts with your palms,
the music dies down a little and calms.
You walk up to me and than music begins to play,
that's when you start moving your body on top of me and asking me to stay.
You kiss my ear and rub my legs,
your breast rub against my inner pains.
You feel me harder than a rock,
than you decide to grind my cock.
Your body moves so sexy and slowly to the music that i played,
my body is shaking from all the excitement that is payed.
You go in for the big finish, and i tell you to get back up,
cause a lady like you should do all that kind of crap.
Be with me, be with a BOSS,
Who cares if the people i killed ever took a loss.
Dedicated to all the woman of the world.
PS: You are not trash, you are not ......... you are precious jewels. Stay that way ladies. I love you all.
The innocence of children playing as birds gliding together across a pure blue sky. The colors of autumn give the canvas a nostalgic countenance, as nineteen-year old Mozart’s violin concert no. 3, the Adagio, like the rhythmic tides in a ternary form at eventide on the rocky shores of the Hudson. Such is the splendid D major as the crickets play one octave higher with the wind playing an A major. I hum in A sharp and the fog horn in the distance a forlorn B minor. The wine works quickly, tempers the mood. Too drunk to write so we sing. Too tired to dream so we think. Too weary to wish so we wander. Lest the moon forgets to show us the way, we will set up camp beneath a bench staring up into a wild Verona sky. Her yellow hair silver in the moonlight. Her red lips yearning in the chill of an autumn morning. Many years ago.
A humble name,
Trilling far beyond river
For his music
Flows into the grandest ocean
-Snaperdoodlyay, Laura Breidenthal
-For Giorgio Veneto's Laconic Verse Contest
Teen angel. Acid queen.
Here comes your lover man.
Heaven and hell. Won’t you
try. Kosmic blues.
Voodoo child. Guinnevere.
I put a spell on you.
And when its over. I
can’t turn you loose.
an English Ode
A shepherd-boy composer sang of hope -
pastoral psalms were first heard by his lambs,
his soothing music helped King Saul to cope,
distressing psalms related rival's scams.
Young David, you respected God as Lord
and recognized that giving thanks is praise.
Recalling God's own mighty triumphs past,
you wrote of vict'ry, friendships with accord;
you shaped forgiveness, faith, your Father's ways.
As king, you wrote of blessings deep and vast.
Oft-quoted, sung and prayed by millions wide
Psalm 23, perhaps the best-known psalm.
And "Bless the Lord, my soul," we've gladly cried,
Psalm 1-0-3 are verses penned to calm.
We lift up praise, "majestic is Thy name,"
to God from both Psalm 8 and 21.
"Create in me a clean heart, Thou my God,"
writes David when confronted with true shame;
Psalm 51 recounts how cleansing's done.
King David's psalms, sweet music to applaud.
Taking other's estimation of you, David, as enough justification to write of the biblical King David in your honor. I know you will miss your friendships here. May God bless your future plans as only He can.
As I crossed the gravel way
Of chemim de la Geurite
Through dead leaves that fell astray
I dodged them in a wild mad spree
As I crossed the gravel way
As I climbed up the granite wall
Thick and cold and high
To the top, feeling small
I slid across the rim
As I climbed up the granite wall
Down the other side I went
Through coins strewn about
Through photos and through flowers spent
I slowly crawled along
And down the other side I went
There were people standing over me
People standing high
People with teary eyes did see
The writing on the wall
As there were people standing over me
And as I headed towards chemim Lebrun
I heard some people sing some old forgotten songs
Holding candles of whitish hue
Lamenting a man called Jim
As I headed towards chemim Lebrun
And as I rested for a while
In my house upon my back
I rested with a blissful smile
At the end of my shiny track
As I rested for a while
spokes of a turning wheel
strung with colored string
strumming fingers playing
plain and turning
and simply round and round
colors whirl up and around
up and down
music moving turning sound
swirl of colorful motion
jaunty ribbons of song
bright and shining
and lightly up and away
He thought he was a poet
but turned out to be a lyricist
He didn't even know it
Until his words were on the hit list
He wrote sonnets a-plenty
Rhyme and meter sublime
They made songs of almost twenty
Without paying him a dime!
He woke up to it all too late
He dozed too long, too ignorant
But such is the blind fool’s fate
If of worldly ways indifferent
“how I missed my ultimate calling!”
he wailed and cried and sobbed
as he heard his words on beats a-falling
Of honor and credit robbed
The producers made a killing
The poet died in debt
But the words stayed alive and thrilling
On vinyl’s preciously kept
In the end the poet was rewarded
By life’s eternal song
And posthumously awarded
Credit that tried to right the wrong
But far above the earthly sky
Looking down upon the thieves
No tears were there to cry
As he sat under Abraham’s eaves
Seeing the producers one by one
Shedding their fleshy pants and top
To be wrapped in burning flames and sun
Wailing and crying for a single drop
There is nothing in this world that i can possibly think of or think of doing to tell you how much I love you.
You are so sweet to me, i can't almost stand it wen you call me handsome and cute, cause it sounds so sweet to me.
If there is anything in this world that you can think of for me to prove my love to you, just name it. I will be all over that in a flash.
Even though we didn't get to see each other for very long cause of my dumb ass, that was still what i wanted to see today really bad. Looking into your BEAUTIFUL green eyes today was like looking into Gods heaven.
The only thing that is missing is your touch on my skin. I probably would not be able to hold it in me and take a hold of you by your waist and press you against me, and than the smell of your hair would turn me on to the BREAKING POINT.
I would start by kissing down your neck and curress your neck with my tong.
Than while curressing your body, I would start slipping my hands under your shirt, and under your bra and upon your perfect titties.
Than i would start pulling your bra and shirt off at the same time and begin kissing your titties. Kiss them all the way down to your belly button and back up to your face.
When i would lift your upon my hips i would carry you to the bed and start kissing you back down your titties and your ribs and your belly button and than an inch lower passed your belly button just to get you a little more wet and wanting.
To Be Continued.
Set for Contest!
How could I have forgotten you!
Because you’re the little sister!
Because you’re so down to earth!
It is symphonic
It is rhythmic
It tells a story,
of love and life,
of pleasure and pain,
of joy and sadness;
a story of defeat and triumph
It is the invisible book
of the human experience
It has the power,
to move you,
to make you yearn for more,
of its delightfully painful,
It can deliver you;
it can be your cry of deliverance
It is so mysterious;
it could only be celestial
It straddles the emotions
quietly packing a punch,
but pulls it, only to suck you in
When it hits,
it leaves no bruises
It knocks you out,
into the habitation of joy;
a relief from heaviness
It is transcendent;
a passport and transport,
to the esoteric zone;
the inner longing of the soul,
warping the time in its wake,
at such a pace,
that leaves you transported
It blows in,
from beyond the firmament,
riding the undulating,
invisible crests of space
It is copious in joyfulness,
filling the soulful emptiness;
an aid to cope with the sorrowfulness
reaching deep into the soul,
soothing even the savage beast
It is infectious, but does no harm
It is delightfully musing;
rousing a deep satisfaction,
yet, in it, lies a deeper longing,
for something or somewhere,
very present, yet very distant
Seemingly desiring to reconnect,
to something or somewhere,
enchanting, elusive, and disconnected
Shhh! Can you hear it? It is music! It is Jazz!
the needle pushes in her face
a kiss and the wall scratches
higher naked searching cracks
for an exit you scream soldiers
planes flash back and forth flying
a room fills with angry anxious
voices shadows growing tall
corpses rise flowers swallow
space white crosses over graves
praying mantis mothers explode
down the endless fluorescent
hall your lifted into the
long black limo ripping worms
from your face
Backstage and waiting
For my favorite
Band to just show up
Has got me dizzy
Heavy songs like: "Milk"
Here's my respect
For your music;
On God, Life
Well, this giddy little girl was tired of the SAME OLD SONG AND DANCE; she said I gotta get
rid of the MONKEY ON MY BACK, and find someone to TAKE ME TO THE OTHERSIDE...where
KINGS AND QUEENS are LIVIN ON THE EDGE...So I can taste the SWEET EMOTION,..learn
how to DRAW THE LINE and LET THE MUSIC DO THE TALKING...
So, as she started on her PERMANENT VACATION the idea was to KISS HER PAST
GOODBYE....though it was NOBODY'S FAULT she knew she had to FLY AWAY FROM HERE...
The LAST CHILD of a bunch counting five, she had to do WHAT IT TAKES to stay alive...So
with just a LICK AND A PROMISE and her LIGHT INSIDE she WALKED ON DOWN with a
THREE MILE SMILE.
She came upon a BLIND MAN they call UNCLE SALTY who saw her CRYIN and said I'll show
you the way to your MAMA KIN... as they traveled on she began to CHIP AWAY THE
STONE...and put all her SEASONS OF WITHER behind her.
Finally arriving to find MOTHER POPCORN who blessed her with this sound advice:
Take the long path my JADED one, past the HANGMAN JURY and down to the FARM...WALK
ON WATER and realize that there is NO SUPRISE... though there may be RATS IN THE
CELLAR there is always CHEESE CAKE in your eyes.
Now she rides the TRAIN THAT KEEPS ROLLIN with the LORD OF THE THIGHS hoping they
can COME TOGETHER in the SUNSHINE of the MOVIE and DREAM ON here inside their
AVANT GARDEN !
Now I live out in the country
and thought I'd heard everything,
but there ain't nothing half as pretty
as Allison when she sings.
Allison Kraus is a pretty little thing
and right pleasing to the eye,
but when she cuts loose a singing
the angels listen and sigh.
Her voice is like a gentle breeze
through the pines on a summer night;
soothing all your cares away
and making everything alright.
Someday when I reach heaven
I'm quite sure she'll be there, too
"cause I know God loves her singing
just the same as me and you.
The golden silence melts away, and joy un-named
From the phantom pipes exults me
For no silence can so rhapsodized and doubts tamed
That man deserves better glory.
And what if sin could, levelling us, permit this to remain
Tell me then what is the eternal antidote of our pain?
Like distant peal of evening bell, a plaintive song
The unknown angels could also sing
And golden glow the light divine where seraphs throng
Chiming solitude's shadowy wing
Where my soul beneath the bough of your academy ignites
By the rapture that your balming melody in me excites
What do you wise man of shadowed boughs tells my heart now
What deep remembrance from me gone
When music was language to which all wisdom bow
And by songs you spoke Eden's tone
And I the Adam now understood the truth you sweetly tell
The prophecy recovered while kept in trance under your spell.
No bird then you are, sweet singer from times afar
Too sage your purpose tells the hope
The griots spoke, ere magis found their vision's star
Song beyond silence giving scope
To the word that instant wandered and did not move, and no eye
Nor I could describe that form, elusive in the brimming sky
Great philosopher, wisdom teacher, nightingale
That from solititude drops pearls
For which I sell all promise other, so prevail
Your fragrance to unbroken worlds
Where there still perhaps the universal language can be heard
In as sweet as tone as this cataract of hymn from a bird.
I love to learn, but in the aura of such light
I retain nothing but pure joy
And while in ecstacy yet claim I a full sight
Absolute and with alloy
For music makes of faith a better candle for the darkness
And faith brings truth where only faith can spark our human hardness
For up and down around me move a district loud
With the sweet notes of prophecy
Yet no one lingers, no footstep halts in the crowd
As men pursue their destiny
By choice, deaf to their own healing, and wealth so beyond compare
The peace so freely given in a song filtering the air.
Happiness is an emotion that i don't show very often,
The Evil inside kills me everyday not to show it coming.
Joy, where did you go? I can't find you anymore, where are you hiding?
Please come back to me, i want to feel you when ever i want it siding.
The smell of you next to me is so peaceful,
But i cant see your magical touch cause its i am not too cheerful.
Slap me or do what ever you want to me,
Crawl inside me and make me feel you freely.
As a young man I was first introduced to the music of THE BEATLES by my father
I would endlessly play his LP records
Eventually memorizing the lyrics to almost all THE BEATLES songs
As my interest grew my father encouraged me furthermore
By assisting me in buying my first guitar
I then started to collect films books and memorabilia on the FAB FOUR
John was my favorite
His wit Charm Musicianship he was an all around creative being he was the man
I was struck by his ability to be so imaginative and his strength to be unique
The music he created with and without THE BEATLES
I feel I will always hold close to my spirit
As I walk through the times of my life
I will always have the music
To get me Through
Walking away might be the most hardest things for a man to do,
you cant even imagine what that feeling can do to you.
Falling flat on your face would be better than to look shameful,
even walking around naked around the streets would be cool.
But like any story in life goes, there is always that one person that will help you get back on your feet and walk again.
No matter how much you fall, no matter how much you stumble upon a struggle, that person will be there with you till the end.
Give love and thanks to this person who never leaves your side and helps you put a smile on your face everyday.
When the day comes to an end and you know that the person has to go, all you can wish is for your special person to stay.
Mine has walked away on me,
I was so blind that i couldn't see.
She wanted everything for her self, for me to change and be what she wanted me to be,
but i had to let her go and never see this person again, cause it would only be worse in the end.
Writing this is more painful than getting your body tattooed,
writing this is more painful than getting over screwed.
Writing this is more painful than words,
writing this is more painful than razor sharp swords.
No matter how much you try to let it out it just wouldn't come out,
the pain is way to deep and its almost like its tattooed on your bodies gout.
haven't i been hurt enough in this world, i just don't understand why i am being treated like this,
is it cause i am better than you and have nothing to look forward too but my blue and black handkerchief?
The cut was way to deep my dear, you just cant imagine,
i have been cut and bruised for the last time, i can promise you that.
No one will ever touch this body or hurt this soul ever again,
if you wish to try so, go ahead and check it, but before that go ahead and get yourself a casket.
a toast to those who wove the tunes
that so inspired in many ways
in tapestries of harmony
of marmalade and purple haze
as our cheers rang often,loud and long
our flames leapt up in highest praise
for the music of the troubadours...
ah yes,those were the days!
ODE TO THE ANDANTE
(Hum along, Mozart's Andante, -Elvira Madigan's theme-or dream!
A rose garden,