Grunge
the grunge
effect seems to
offer beauty in
an unkept way~
opening to the
concept of the
unending
expressions of
beauty which itself
cannot be expressed~~
Classical is from the Middle Ages
in the mid-1940's we had Bebop
a fast-tempo 19th / 20th century Jazz
then along came Doo-wop
with group harmonies
the 50's brought us rock and roll
which developed the 1960's
(sad to say) Disco and its glitter ball
then psychedelic pop rock
blues and folk rock
and in the 1970's it was Hip-hop
and also Rap
which was misspelt
it should read 'Crap'
the 1980's were synthesised
1990's gave us Garage and Grunge
2020's saw online streaming
by the record industry which makes me cringe
Country music (C&W) too (hit or flop)
I know it's true I left out (Reggae) more than a few
but no matter the genre tempo or key
the self-same seven notes do it for eclectic me
This will be a false Haiku
because I don't have time
to finish up
Xmas tree obliges
Anyhow
why not write Neo-Grunge
jazzmataz music song poeme
In a rather quickie style
let's finish here,
I only have 12 minutes
precisely:
dirty clean grandpa
souping through the night
Plop! Hiroshima bloat
Kitana Mansa what words speak me
there shredded or triffled
the shoes of tired men
Mansa Kitana sing that
you are songful
the son of pleasant persons
the headjoint of the flute
the carved dogwood tree
music that causes pleasure
are songs that bothers me
These are you songs
these are the inspirations for
coupling marriage
defined by scholars
never to
be confessed or unraveled
. for public domain and Kurt Cobain
I'm doing hand stands in the rain.
It's never going to snow again,
until December or late November,
but that's so far away,
so far away,
so far away,
so far away.
I'm doing cartwheels in the sun,
in t-shirts and shorts. It's so much fun.
Throughout the summer, no days a bummer,
but that's so far away,
so far away,
so far away,
so far away.
No one sees where I come from,
gotta go now, I'm on the run,
but listen away and have a nice day,
though we're so far away,
so far away,
so far away,
so far away.
Poetry is best spoken, or in this case, yelled.
Yelling works very well with Ezra Pound's Ancient Music
grunge me
in
the
middle
tryn guess
my name
go on an
blow your
love ing
whistle
ain't
nothing
gonna change
hear me in the echoe
strum another key
drain me
from
the
ocean
never drown my plea
grunge me
?
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