Long High voltage Poems
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Snapping fingers, a low hum in the microphone)
Hey, It's Café Jazz/ But we ain't just sipping black coffee and snapping our fingers in polite applause/
Talkin' Bop/ first idiom where being white wasn't the fast track to success/ Yeah, dig it/ Bop was the soundtrack/ To anxieties, to late nights, to dreams deferred/
A nervous tremor in the rhythm/ Hard to play/ Man, you don't even KNOW. Only Bird, Diz, Miles...a constellation of cats burning bright, digging deep into a new conception in jazz/
A new hip way/ The hard Bop LP Clifford Brown and Max Roach, Study in Brown, 1955?
Got heads blown right off/ This isn’t just music, see?/
It's talkin' 'bout you, talkin' 'bout me/ talkin' 'bout life getting ready to take on a new form/ Be-Bop Creating a dialogue in Blending ideas, twisting sounds, birthing a style from the after-hours jam sessions at Minton’s Playhouse, Harlem/
Extreme virtuosity/ blistering speed/ /dissonant chords/ chordal substitutions – a vocabulary of rebellion/
Offbeat piano action, more action, SUPA DUPA HIGH VOLTAGE, MAN! Scorching tempos mirrored the doped-up lives...the pain... the desperation...of some Bop masters/
Even the beat poets... yeah, they copped the style/ the wicked mix of horn blowin' break-your-freakin'-neck speed, the Bop notes bleeding into their verses/ Jazz poetry on fire/
Did Bop influence Lenny Bruce? while doin’ a A-bomb of Heroin and Marijuana in the back of the room of his late night gig/
Is you black, or is you white?/
That question still under the skin of Jazz America/ still inching, scratching, Racism out of jazz/
Where are the jazz lords of the in-between at?/
What's the jazz world like today? Well, your ride is way clean, man/ got the chrome shinin', the leather gleamin'/ but… your gas tank is on E. (Silence, save for the click of the microphone being switched off)
Deep in meditation, I waited.
Breathing slow, soft and deep; I waited.
Then exploded on the inner screen
Such an image of the Divine Matrix
It took my breath away.
There sat I, alone, yoga posed and silent
And from my glowing body spanned
A multitude of galaxies, their cosmic webs and strands
Of multiplicitous energies, reaching away and beyond
Connecting with lifeforms unimagined, far-flung and incomprehensible.
Each pulsing thread bearing high voltage messages
And deepening awareness of connections within.
As above, so below.
Entangled.
Suddenly I knew I could generate change,
Be a force for good, love and plenty.
Because my threads of life, awareness, love and God Force
Reached out across the universes. I AM
Entangled.
As I am here, I am there, I am everywhere Present.
The threads of the Matrix weave the web of eternity,
forward and back, all the tomorrows, abundance or lack.
And so, revived, encouraged and super-conscious
I now can use the threads of the Matrix
To create, transform, transmute and rediscover
All the marvelous pieces of my shattered, scattered selves
into the golden threads of the Matrix.
Reborn, Renewed.
Entangled.
Copyright © Chula Fleming March 16, 2013
he panted heavily
muscles twitching in his naked body
running frenzied, without looking back,
he shouted, “He is after me.... my life”
a rip roaring cry....!
the traffic halted
pedestrians stopped
people from shops came out
women through curtained windows peeped
children stopped their play
“so drunk”.... a man murmured
“A crack”.... someone shouted
“coming right after an orgy”
sneered, an oldie...
“pity on him...! Take him to an asylum”
one gentleman suggested.
he needs help, majority opined
‘nab this plague’, the moral police quipped
what is he running from...?
an assailant....?
corona virus....?
his own phantom...?
two sane men staying,
at a corner wondered.
they had masks on their face
“must be a health worker”..!
one of them said...
“yes, the subtle nuances of a cracked mind”
the other agreed!
as the scene on the road,
had grown into a high voltage drama,
dissensions grew and multiplied!
March.10. 2023
~Placed Second~
Cracked Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Anthony Biaanco
Rumple Stein sat beneath the
crooked willow tree, his yellow
eyes gleaming at the huddled
children.
"Tonight," he whispered, a twisted
grin exposing his pointed teeth, "I
will tell you of Frankenstein's monster."
The children shivered, pulling their
blankets tight as the campfire hissed
and popped in the dark.
"A mad doctor stitched this beast
together using cold, gray body parts
from freshly dug graves," he cackled.
"He used heavy iron bolts,
thick jagged thread, and coursing
electricity to shock the corpse awake!"
"But the lightning left the beast
with a burning fury against children
who tell wicked lies and fibs."
"Because some kids tell lies,
the angry creature sworn to hunt
down every single dishonest child."
"It wanted to fry them alive
using the same high- voltage
electric currents that sparked
its dead heart!"
Rumble Stein leaned forward,
his long shadow stretching over
the grass like a reaching, clawed
hand.
"The giant broke free from its
heavy chains, stomping through
the foggy woods with heavy, thudding
steps."
"It searched the dark nights
for escaping children who refused
to go to sleep, and stop telling lies
and fibs.
He suddenly jumped to his
feet, throwing his hands high
as the wind howled through the
branches.
"And when it catches a liar,"
Rumple 6roared, "it shocks them
to a crisp and drags them away!"
Love at first sight is an overstatement,
But I felt it strongly and now my heart's itching.
Don't look at me, I can feel your judgement.
But my heart, it beats a hundred thousand times faster,
And my emotions been in a roller coaster.
That's what you made me feel even before the greeting.
Now we are face to face, my friends keep me teasing.
Your arms outstretched and I grab it for a shake,
Now that's a high voltage electricity!
Help me! I will die of this proximity.
I'm an anti-romantic but you are an exception.
I am so whipped I'll follow you in any direction,
No separation even in parallel dimension!
Your gaze and your smile gives me a lot of tension,
Spare me! a little extra of your attention.
~cvb~
Feb. 10,2023
Spoken warriors, with rhythm words as their sound swords/
A poetry slam where words and body language put the audience in a sweaty heap/
the spectrum of a creative sound off between spoken word poetry rappers and new time jazz hipsters
has the club bustin' to the rafters/ expressive improvised creative pace and volume on the spot word dance/
man, like a spontaneous mind flow composition
of rap talkin' men and women cookin' up a stream of a consciousness groove/ yeah/ like I feel mile high now/
iconic on-stage impulses of slant rhyme life spoken word poetry/ back-n-forth they go/ words in high gear/ pedal to the metal/ on race, racial slurs, sex, who's doin' who, drive Bys, and TV shows/
like words driving' at a hundred MPH/
becoming telephone poles wizin' by/
high voltage sparks fly when spoken word funk meets uptown nu jazz poetry/
African American poets along with Native American spoken word artists come together to duel it out in a Poetry slam/
it helps to feel the natural flow of high energy words in this performance poetry slam jam/
No reading from pages, just memory’s embrace/
save the date bro It's live with no rewind/
this slam is somethin' else man/
you be reelin' in the feelin' when this Poetry jam becomes a fusion of rhythm word speak on struggles, courage, dreams, love, hip hop rap, and using voice beat drum licks in between word spit speak/
a landscape of uninhibited words with body drum chest thumps/ yo, do you see and feel what i'm sayin'
the dynamic instrument of a voice workin the mic to the crowd with MCs shouting back at ya while you be poppin your performance skills on stage/
the interplay between the mind and free spirit WTF thoughts be burnin the house down/
who's gonna wear the slam crown?
they be back flipping' and word trippin' these slam poets/
trying to outdo each other in a face off/
word lyricism with scat rap concepts/
diggin' deep into emceeing the joint/
keepin' the flow and staying on the beat
cold coke and coffee...
vintage bones high voltage style...
and...starting to write...
steamed thoughts andt...music...
and...on the shelf behind me...
dali clock balance...
there is weight to time...
right now it weighs four fifteen...
on our shoulders...
days get heavier...
midnight to noon...noon...midnight...
anyway...now...write...
i keep bad habits...
they are quite valuable...
...necessary times...
read...research...and dream...
science...maths...philosophy...
try to write a book...
different topics...theme...
keeping a notebook going...
to store ideas...
as necessary...
preparation...and hope...
something of it sells...
sand blown
South Of Marriage
Emotions came alive hot wire red
Blood boils, scolding, screaming in the veins
Fire rising higher in the head
Frayed crazy hair standing on edge
Burnt to the core high voltage snakes
Coiled and ready to attack her mate
Female venom lies in wait
Eyes glaring, pulse pumping in a rage
The hysterical voice screams out at 3:00 am
My relations took a left turn somewhere
It’s only my wife a little trifled
Wondering why I’m waltzing in so late
“Don’t worry dear.” “It’s only me
returning from a couple beers out there.”
My spouse is so lovely and understanding
She makes me laugh
I smile, fall to sleep real fast before she strikes
Wondering if I might rest in peace tonight
Before something nearby ignites a fight
Emotions are a funny thing
My wonderful wife and I this evening
Will I ever see you again.....
A brief moment in time,
two people glancing, smiling, staring...
hearts connected through space and feeling;
time seems endless inside this magical bubble.
A connection - a spark from within,
a jolt of high voltage.
Why at this distance?
Why at this moment?
I look away for only a second,
you are gone when my look returns.
You - beautiful you - have vanished!
My feet were in cement,
always in cement!
Why didn't I move closer?
Why didn't I say something?
I knew and you knew,
not chance - fate!
By design we were placed there,
it was ordained...pre-arranged.
Cement - that damn cement!
What may have been, can't be today.
Tomorrow, maybe one more chance?
Or perhaps, some new cement shoes?
Will I ever see you again?
Kids are funny poets in disguise
Needing, wanting, blessing every day
From Sticks and stones
To climbing trees
Everywhere I go kids are running
Leaping out, playing hopscotch
Using high voltage of imagination
From bubble gum
To singing songs
Chasing frogs, children are so much fun
Bouncing balls and jump rope
Having the time of life every day.
From short box of sand,
To hand shadows on the wall,
Painting and decorating-
-an everlasting moment
A gleeful smile on every face
Kids are funny poets in disguise
Touching, feeling, sharing every day
From dreaming of candy
To wanting hugs
Playing outside in the rain,
Jumping in puddles of mud
Easy to satisfy with love
From merry go rounds
To down the slide
A born poet in disguise
Navigating the world,
through the best form of imaginary
From rough and tough
To - sharp and sweet
Dirty little fingers
Imaginary friend
Flying kites and frisbees
Kids are funny poets in disguise
Feeling, crying, yelling their hearts out
From chickenpox
To having the flu
Scared, on their first day of school
Scraping knees - kisses, please
Sometimes kids feel more than grown ups do
Kids are funny poets in disguise
Giving life the perfect meaning
~10-25-15~