Best Groove Poems
I went to a monster party,
At Castle Frankenstein;
With lots of food and spirit,
The fun kicked off at nine!
Ol' Frankie did the robot,
I stepped to a jitterbug;
The floor began to quake,
We really cut the rug!
I moved on to a sexy witch,
We slid across the room;
I broke down in a two-step,
While dancing with her broom!
I was jammin' to the Charleston,
The Werewolf joined in too;
Igor failed to fight the beat,
He danced without a clue!
Dracula did the tango,
I boogied with the Bride;
The Mummy looked bewildered,
As we did the electric slide!
I tap danced on a table,
Three zombies did the same;
I stripped down to my boxers,
They shouted out my name!
Jekyll was rather classy,
Wielding his futile pride;
When the music struck within,
He turned to Mr. Hyde!
The chandelier was shaking,
Skeletons hit the floor;
I danced to a rumba,
The crowd was wanting more!
Everything was peachy,
Oh what a beautiful night;
Along came the Invisible Man,
And started an awful fight!
He squeezed the Bride's booty,
Other ladies felt the same;
And when the dust had settled,
Guess who took the blame?!
Off went the music,
So long to our fun;
I had no other option,
But to tuck my tail and run!
Those who partied with me,
Were raising such a chatter;
The crowd was crying out,
"Put his head on a platter!!"
I aroused the little lady,
To an ear-piercing scream;
Hallelujah for a nightmare,
It was just an awful dream!
Was it really just a dream?
A thought raced through my head;
"Honey, I have a question",
"Why's that witch hat on our bed?"
Into the groove of unthinking action,
file after file of manikins pack in --
beings above see the circular groove
peopled with puppets, all on the move.
Deeper yet they wear the groove down;
manikins' footfalls forever resound.
Of "outside", they now all think no more,
their eyes forever fixed on the floor.
Mechanical movement is all they can know;
movement defines all the life that they show.
The speeds of the dummies vary a bit
as they wear down the floor of the pit.
You ask for too much, tho
your categories make me so
frantic.
Teachers are like that, right?
('cept for the few, of course,)
who know how to deal with recourse
that has something to do with antic.
Could go on and on
but wouldn't want anyone to
panic.
as I whistle
and so on
And so on
And So On
.......
and the beat goes on
(Verse #1)
We can dance all night,
Lets make a promise,
Lets do this right,
All through the night,
Anything you want,
Girl, you can have it,
Girl, you blow my mind,
with the things you do,
when you move,
(Chrous:)
(When you groove,)
The midnight groove,
(Girl, I love,)
The way you move,
(Verse #2)
The way you touch my heart,
Not like another,
Girl, you're on my mind,
All of the time
(Bridge)
I love every inch of yo body,
Make me wanna spread our love all
around,
When you kiss me oh baby,
Send your love, baby
(Send your groove)
(Chorus: 3x)
(When you groove,)
The midnight groove,
(How I love)
The way you move,
Midnight love,
Midnight groove,
How I love,
The way you move.
a woman ask whats wrong with me
that some thing is not the same
she said she still see the fire
but what happen to the flame
her words take me by surprise
because i didn't notice this before
so i start looking at my self
but cant find the kaz groove no more
lately i been under the weather
with some normal daily stress
but i never let it affect me
because i always rise to the test
now this person in front the mirror
looks like some one i know
but i don't recognize him
where did the kaz groove go
the kaz is really a cool guy
just like a cold Carib beer
but i not see the kaz groove again
looks like he drop it somewhere
he use to be a ladies candy
with words sweet like honey
but now he is like a dinner mint
with no sugar like a diet Pepsi
i,m not seeing the kaz groove
that he always have with him
or maybe he is giving it a rest
and just keeping it hidden
he came from Trinidad with the groove
and he use it across america
the kaz groove was a chick magnet
like a Mercedes Benz and BMW motorcar
the kaz won dancing competitions
and won best looking at a bazaar
and when goes disco dancing
they use to call him John Travolta
he always have the groove with him
and the girls like him every where
the kaz was like a rear bottle of wine
but now he is just like a Mexican beer
the girls use to ask him out
he never once ask a girl for a date
the kaz groove was like a treat
you would see on the ladies plate
he use to be a fashion designer
making suits and beautiful women dress
and if you ask any one in Trinidad
they would he say the kaz was the best
and any sports games he played
he was always the best naturally
and every thing he cooks is so tasty
and some say he writes some nice poetry
"i love myself better than i love my self "
a big hit song by comedian bill Cosby
that song bring out a 'dog dance competitions
and the kaz clean house and take the trophy
the kaz with the smooth dancing move
and the original heart breaker
i don't see him these days at all
looks like he moving undercover
where has the kaz groove gone?
maybe the winter is to cold
and he saving it for the spring break
to bring back the kaz groove to the world
i know very soon the grove will be back
but i just have to wait and see
because i know the kaz groove
is here to stay till eternity
She calls me God and damns me nightly
As we exchange deep sighs and moans
I'm the father of Orgasms and Creations
The moans of a beastly release
She's Mother of every Desire
Match of my fires
explosion galore
From the steamy release
She knows just how to
Please and tease into
Full submission
Conquest and mission
The last gasp of breathe
Only to inhale life
From a river that flows
Towards me
She and I
Exchanged Souls
In the Heat of passions
Life giving Life
In and out
Rhythm and stroke
Lost in the Universe
Of Locking Eyes
Clasping hands
Holding on for
Dear Life
Wetting my Desire
Speaking deeply without
Words
The Magic of Sex that's
Niagara wet
Somewhere East of
Eden Corner to Corner
Walls and all
The Event Horizon
Of A vertical
And Horizontal Dance
Feeding from the
Elixir
We exchanged Life
Thru Soul Music
Our Love
Magic and Ritual
Ancient power
By the
New Moon and fire
In to Deep
Our Sexual Testimonies
pluralisms
No time for sleep
Her Boaz Pillar
Just the right angle
90° Pleas
Please and Tease
Orally she stroked
As I gave her soul confessions
In Every Damn Language
Tongue Speaking
As she downed her babies
Cooling the heat from
The night.
Kevin Guru©2016
New Moon Groove
At some point I convinced myself
I could write poetry,
Considering poetry books on my shelf
Why would the world need more?
So, I tried my hand at short stories,
What could be easier?
Then the fountain ran dry!
The next step, naturally, writing novels
After seven with lots of rejections
I had no more heart to try.
Now, I have discovered it’s a compulsion
To put words down on the page
And what else is to be discovered?
What writing is now all the rage!
Written July 8, 2022
In a swirling groove of surrealism
What a week it has been!
A weak passage of time fraught with disappointments have I seen.
Few sprigs of gleaming import found me as I went about my way each day.
Moments arose when it appeared that success would be mine, yet there were but
mere shadows and not true substance!
Following the relinquishing of hope, I unhappily surrendered to reality's dim outlook
and went on with life.
Now on a day of rest from labor, I am awash in anxiety and am found in a swirling
groove of surrealism!
The cord of dismay has me in a tangled mess, and I know not what to do!
I have no friend of kindred spirit to be my ally and kindly cull me out.
There is no one to assuage my anxiety with a cup of cheer.
Seeing that there is not a soul to break bread with, I linger in my solitary cocoon.
To break the silence of my world, I employ various recorded sounds to fill it in.
It is an option of lesser pedigree, yet it will keep me company as I journey on!
One might as well suffice, for should gold not be available, silver simply must do.
In the meantime I will hold on for one more day.
Who knows but God the good which is to come.
Form:
time now waits for sound
rhythm now follows numbers
bodies start to groove
In this white-washed room, time moves slow,
Monitors beepin’ soft and low,
I got tubes and dreams, but one thing’s clear—
The only medicine I need is your voice in my ear.
Nurses come and go like the wind through the door,
But I’m anchored in a hope I can’t ignore—
I’m just waitin’ for your call, baby,
To lift me higher than this hospital wall.
One sweet sound, that’s all I need,
To set this heavy heart of mine free.
Oh, I’m just waitin’, just waitin’—
Waitin’ for your call.
Ain’t no sunlight in these sterile tiles,
But I picture your face and it brings me smiles.
Like Stevie said, “I just called to say”—
But this time, I’m hopin’ you’ll call me today.
If you knew how your voice could heal,
Like Sunday choir or a lover’s zeal—
You’d pick up the phone, babe, make it ring,
Turn this ICU into a soul-song swing.
I’m just waitin’ for your call, darlin’,
Your words could break down every wall.
One “hello,” and my heart takes flight,
Through these IV drips and the long, long night.
Yeah, I’m just waitin’—waitin’ for your call.
Maybe it’s just a whisper,
Maybe a laugh through your tears—
But I’ll be here, my love,
Till your voice fills my ears...
I’m just waitin’... yeah... just waitin’...
Waitin’ for your call.
pick up the pen
or
pick up the can
they both
both
lead to
the same same same
p l a ce
BUT i listen to
my heart no not
in the way
you may
think
romantically
i'm talking
about the beat
how it's not
i n sync
with the
flow of the
stream that's next
to me and the honk
of geese unlike the
silent spiral of buzz
ards over me for i'm
in harm
ony with the
music of the
spheres but it's
my rythme that's
keep ing
me in
beat WITH years
doors knocking hugging
back slapping ocean wa
ves beating son's drums
doldrums mosquito hum
s some snores from nap
ping ping pong laughing
bouncing off a stage bo
oing audience demand i
ng what's real music to t
hem
old sewing machine
foot and finger
peddle mend
ing an old
time dew
rag mama
can't stop but
to wipe my brow
here comes another
rise
SUN
Form:
Embrace me my lover,
Let eager fingers identify your physical boundary,
Innocently caressing every curve leaving a surmounting temptation like no other,
Satisfying even those hidden pages tucked away in your precious diary,
Lovingly kissing such divine lips,
Every hand stroke encountering a quivering body,
While lustful hands clasp onto swinging hips,
Fair warning it will be considerably rowdy.
I just wrote another song--I’ve got the lyrics and the chords.
It’s not too short, nor too long, and the melody fits the words.
The majors and minors flow into a nice chord progression,
And there’s a sexy, slow, Latin beat to add a touch of passion.
I’ve not yet made a solo that will dazzle our rock star;
I’ll have the guitar-hero write something for lead guitar.
The drums and rhythm guitar both have parts that came out easy.
But it’s always the bass guitar that has the part that drives me crazy.
The bass guitarist is the guy that makes the band earn its money.
His job is to unify the rhythm, melody, and harmony.
He sets up the next chords for the keyboards and guitars to play—
Ever leading the band forward, rather than watching them run astray.
Chorus (after verses 2 & 3):
I’m trying to find that groove—the one that gets you on your feet,
The one that makes you want to move and boogie in the street.
I’m trying to find that groove, that catchy riff, that walking beat,
That makes all the other grooves sound like something obsolete.
Feel a red hot red chakra like lead in your
pelvis and shake it like Elvis.
Moving to Orange in the tummy,Hari Krisnas
are dancing and chanting.
Higher is a Yellow glowing sunflower,
in the solar plexus a canary is singing.
Green is the scene for the rainforest Queen,
tropical green sounds surround your being.
Blue is the chakra for the throat,you sing
a cool rhythm and blues song.
Quietly the purple chakra in your third eye
gives a soft sigh.
While a white light shines a beam on your
crown,where a thousand shimmering petals
are found.
Groove Culture
yo, to the mixes that keep on flowing, jazzy house, the real deal, a natural movement, let that rhythm heal/
Groove Culture, WHOOO YEAAA, blast it out, let the world hear you shout/
with huge speakers thumping In the trunk of your ride/ feel the heartbeat let the bassline guide you with some of the sickest slickest beats in your drive/
James Brown’s got his sex machine workin’/
the dude had style and was a true pioneer/ JB funkified the soul of the nation/ and lit up drive-in back set love-making/
Nasty girls moving, Booty up, baby, living the dream/
hip Hoppers, standin’ tall, much respect to DMX, Black Rob, Shock G, and Biz Markie, legends for all time, their echoes live on, eternally/
people gonna be jamming to their cuts a hundred years from now/
man, rap, hip hop, music that transcends time/
rap and basketball from the 90s/what a slam jam/
so let’s celebrate the sound in the round/ the rhythm that unites, never uptight/
In the heart of the groove, where we love to do the Humpty Hump Dance/
Massive respect, and many blessings, keep it real people/
In this culture of mayhem, threats, and political gain/
keep the truth alive with no pain…