Arbitrary baseline of creativity.
Believe in the beats that are felt,
ask a lyric to see where it goes.
Nearby is that heart on a sleeve,
describe what is dying inside;
say it with all the courage you can.
Bang it out let it heal your pain
allow for a release to come.
Captivate yourself,
keep calm if tears start to fall.
Best what you’ve created before,
okay it’s hard but always worth it.
Never bend find the breakout,
eat the hungry audience up.
I wear a ring of wedding
a tiny thing, a golden circle
that glows on my finger with
the sparkle of God’s gilded sun
let such beauty itself proclaim
to the wandering eyes of man
that I have no use of nettling admirers
that I live under wedded sovereignty
and tame their interest and superior want
but in somber secret
let apologies be made
for I fly under false colors
I have taken no vows
the thing is a lie, a cheat,
a passport to peace
that I wear like a shield
against some fair suiter’s caprice
.
.
A song for this:
When will we be married by The Waterboys
Wedding Bell Blues by Laura Nyro
work in progress
Footle of Country Bands
S**t Kickers/slide guitar
cowboys
Stetson
John Denver/folk music
“Thank God”
fiddler
Footle Of Rock Bands
Guitar strings/stockings
steely
nylons
Big hair/bands
hairspray
glamour
Roadies/Hotel
seconds
trashed rooms
Thrash/Punk Rock
Bangers
Façade
There are no bands in death
They are in various states
Lifeless in varied postures
Brought for different reasons
Some palsy and age took their toll
Others victims of premature machinations
Many fell from jealous causatives
A lot from envious enemies
Modest number in the line of duty
Protecting the sanctity of fatherland
Oh yes the occupant of this space:
He was the community’s tallest
His height wrestled and intimated iroko trees…
Now vanity
This lady…
I remember
Had a voice sweeter than a Nightingale
Her shrill high pitched soprano
Bordered on the corridors of falsettos
Cracked glasses unending
Vanity upon vanity
There are no bands in death
Bones litter a grave’s mouth
As cleaved and cut wood upon the earth
Philosophical quandary:
Point of no return
Cessation of cessations
‘Fallacy of misplaced concreteness’
An end to spectrum of living
To the living the dead never die:
They are always with us
In songs, stories and legacies
They may fly away never to be seen
Only on JUDGEMENT DAY
The rest is for us to live right
Walking the old paths wherein our Fathers walked
For there are no bands in death.
Kevorkian played the fiddle of death.
Fauci (mask on) mouths an alto sax.
Putin taps away on nuclear keys.
Xi bangs away on a drum of disease.
Lap dog Jong taps a tiny tambourine.
While Bunny Biden lip-syncs to an audience of 1.
Jose Cuervo’s Spit Cocktail®
Anonymous Nazis® from Swatch
Ocean Spray’s Sl*t Juice®
Playtex presents Toxic Stockings®
Fortress of Deception® by Hormel
Time-Warner’s Urban Tan®
Flesh Box® by Band-Aid
Drano’s Septic Wish®
Trojan presents Sperm Banquet®
Rotten to the Core® by Apple
Squalor Sux® by Electrolux
Ben and Jerry’s Flemish Cough®
Human Purse® from American Express
Nike’s Toe Jam Football®
Bank of America’s Velvet Fist®
Ethnic Stud by Viagra®
Starbucks introduces Pubic Comb®
Victorious Egret presents The New Bob Dylan®
Otis Trench® from BadSeedPress
One person bands will only ever have two hands,
And a brain held together by rubber bands,
That can snap when followers make too many demands.
How can we expect anything but royal stuff ups?
With so many daily close ups,
With no time to do press-ups,
Before the follow-ups.
How can one size fit all,
When the one holding the only ball,
Is afraid to tell all,
The thoughts that will cause them to fall,
Letting another one person band control the ball.
A one-person band in a world where bigger bands,
With more hands can deliver sweeter sounds,
Throughout the lands,
So fewer people need have blood on their hands,
With trigger fingers receiving a new set of demands,
Makes no sense to those in the stands.
When one-person bands,
No longer work without backup plans,
To shift demands into more hands,
Attached to brains with less demands,
Held together by more than just rubber bands,
The difference will surely be felt in the stands.
Adam Lambert, a rare gift to this decade, reviving queen.
Seen no doubt in heaven by Freddy Mercury, the guy.
By the way, fine Aretha Franklin has also grabbed my heart.
Smart of me to fall in love with Andy Williams at young age.
Sage song Moon River still makes me smile all over the bedroom.
Looming into my mind is Al Hirt’s trumpet so big and bold.
Old to some. Can I say Alice Cooper and get a smile?
Miles along this path of memories are bands also, friend.
Send everyone to hear Alvin and the Chipmunks is you dare.
Harrowing to think of them alongside Allman Brothers right?
Might I suggest Aerosmith and Adele should take to the keys?
Please listen to sweet Ariana Grande next if you can.
Man up, turn on incredible volume of ABBA
Way out of my league are all of these A-list singers and bands.
Grandiose in appearance, especially that Adam fellow.
Funicello is still a favorite in my childhood day.
Way past hiding my age now. Confess Annette is her first name.
Game to listening to new singers, poets, bands of all kinds.
(Senryus)
If I don’t have
a hair-band on my wrist I
feel out of control.
When I was a kid
I thought teens were the coolest
people in the world.
Now I know that teens
are the tiredest, most stressed
people in the world.
How fun would it be
if ceiling fans could support
our weight - bye boredom.
Music Made Me
I made it belong to me and it still does
Decades later the tracks are the same
Am I identical to the teenager?
At first I refused to listen to songs
But sooner than later it happened
My own path and choice and way
There was The Beach Boys and Frankie
A very varied mix of quality music
But it was one song and band
It changed everything in 86
The Bangles Manic Monday
One listen and I was hooked
And got the record and was fine
For I had an identity and a band
They set the musical bench mark
Over the decades many followed
T'Pau and All About Eve and
Pat Benatar and Joan Jett in 88
Voice of the Beehive in 91
And so many more awesome groups
Real bands doing real songs
80s, goth, rock, metal, indie,
Alternative, punk and more
My life soundtrack saying this:
Feck the mindless idiots!
Incident Report 74399 2020
JIMMY BOOM SEMTEX
Where will we be in
Our ability to fight
Coronavirus
When it goes “mutate”?
We don’t have a vaccine now…
Many are dying!
Relaxing rules should
Not be done now…elastic
Bands hurt on rebounds.
W.C.Hull © 2020-16-5-H1432-
2542-I52-K52-10-L59-10
smashed the drums
wrings sweating hands
boom...boom
trumpet puffed cheeks
notorious red
toot...toot...toot
band sways
feet tapping
spit sprays
silver flute
fame’s up front
poetically sweet
audience yawns; cymbals
crash
dull drums rev it up
2/1/2020
Edward Ibeh’s Yalto Form
Line 1 to 15: 3,4,2,4,5,3,2,3,2,3,3,5,6,1,5 syllables.
Ballroom dancing
Big bands, Hollywood glam
Chiffon decorated dance floor
Men were gentlemen, women were ladies
Decent formality
And etiquette
Stardust
The Big Bands of the forties, I loved them all
Glenn Miller, the Dorseys, Arty Shaw and Les Paul
They were so smooth
And quite raucous too
Collected their 78s, I certainly had a ball
The Jewish people, walked with arm bands
pointing out, how they were different
Instead of drinking coffee in the cafes of Berlin
People accepted, what the thought, they could not change,
Courts, enforced the laws of Government,
The Jewish people walked, with arm bands,
Like sheep, the people followed, the words of a man
with eyes blind, he encouraged them to hate,
Instead of drinking coffee in the cafes of Berlin
Those that disagreed, were forced to obey
your children, the spy's, your courts, his arms
The Jewish people walked with arm bands
We can not fight, we'd lose our job's
What can one man do, against the system
Instead of drinking coffee in the cafes of Berlin
For evil to thrive, good people do nothing
to prevent the spread of evil, good people stand up,
The Jewish people walked with arm bands
Instead of drinking coffee in the cafes of Berlin
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