Long In the club Poems
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I’m busy as a bus.
Ten hours on the telephone, research resources,
school staff, counsel clients.
Some sleep.
Then invite Lorraine downtown, the lovely loyal
secretary, to hear jammin jazz crew. By taxi tonight,
sans subway.
I’ve never been to this joint before
but admire the women in their dresses and makeup.
In New York, they smell wild. Elsewhere
women are ranchers and gardeners.
We find a small table in the crowd,
order drinks. The band is four young black men.
Lorraine is black too, by the by.
We get up to dance and I leave my cowboy boots
under the table. I’ve always enjoyed
the way Lorraine puts her arms around me.
I’m the oldest cat in the club
which is frightening
since just fifteen years ago I was the youngest.
I wink at the trumpet player with my fairly abandoned mien
who comes over to our table between sets.
He likes Lorraine. They jukebox it.
She falls in love.
Jimi Hendrix-Played electric guitar with his teeth and left hand
Ripped through scales, held notes, used flames on stage on command
Janis Joplin- Rolling Stone—Her cover enthralling ”Me And Bobby Magee”
Mezzo-soprano vocals and an "electric" stage presence that’ll ever be
Mama Cass- Of "The Mamas And Papas" Singer Alto—perfect pitch
“California Dreamin” rumor she choked on a ham sandwich
Mama Cass was in the club too
but kicked her out because she was 32!
Jim Morrison- “L.A. Woman” His presence quite a sight to see
The Doors, his band, Jim’s buried in a famous Paris cemetery
Amy Winehouse- Jazz singer—her deep, expressive contralto vocals
New York bluesy new Motown sound, knew she’d die young say the articles
Kurt Cobain-Modern day Rock Icon died
lead singer & guitarist of Nirvana, by suicide
Although rumor has it was Courtney Love
Kurt’s death meant he joined the fabled 27 club
A few of “The 27 Club” Rock Stars that rocked me!
A dormant sadness erupts in me when their songs are played
Rock Stars are noted for their high-risk lifestyles
Admissions free—no cover charge!
“It's gettin' hard to please 'em
You start to feel the rub
You know it isn't easy
Well, welcome to the club
Come on and join us in the club.”
– Joe Walsh
The marquee glares with brilliant light.
A talent takes stage to delight.
Too many hours, too long the show
Painful pressure in too hot glow.
How much more can they surely take
before they crumble and then break?
They are ever pressured for more
and always seem stressed to the core.
What more is left after they give
memories for fans to relive?
Choking on their artistic fame,
each breath becomes a burning flame.
Fraught with fear of losing the edge.
closer and closer they get to the ledge,
Woefully, they bend, twist, and crack;
pushed too far to ever come back.
Might 27 be given
to those depressively driven?
Another club’s members alive;
the ones who struggle, yet survive.
Those quiet moments when we have time to look inside of us.
Many times we don't like what we see, we want to improve.
Sometimes we don't see enough, but the most times we don't want to dig inside.
Lazy machines with no heart to look into.
No quiet members in the club, just noisy ones that believe the unbelievable and the truth to be hidden.
To be quiet is not easy at the present, but to be quiet is something to look deep inside of your heart.
Imagine a world where you have to be quiet. No such lines can be written.
Because far abobe of the quiet moments we are disturbed, even if we look for those quiet waters, it will be always a wild river where we have to put our life in nature's hands.
Difficult to search a way to be quiet when you have wildness inside.
Those quiet moments are in our mind, when we used to play games, with no concerns, thinking that tomorrow will be one more day to play around.
Those moments change every step we make, every breath that we take, and maybe we think that tomorrow those quiet moments will be a dream that belong to the past.
But I will still think about those quiet moments when I get up, until I will have the chance.
Most days I lie in bed for days end pretending I am dead
Some days I lose the battle to hunger, thirst and heartache
This pain is real, pain is the only real thing, not even death is
We don’t even believe in death in the least at least not until we are deceased
It really is not enough to quit smoking, drinking, living, struggling, surviving,
But pain,
It doesn't care about your race, your age, your taste, your faith
When it hits it does not ask your obedience, your opinion, it just takes
Now Imagine being in pain at a place you can’t bandage or even quite place
In your mind, your heart your soul, in your eyes till the tears are dry
And as long as you remember, It has always just been you screaming
screaming in the church, in the club,with your love, and your mum
when you f***, when you dance, when you walk, when you talk
I know you were only being polite when you asked
If I was fine, with no indifference or concern
I know you meant well and I should have obliged with etiquette
But today the pain has been worse than the rest of the days
So thank you for asking and thank you for being patient as a patient
I could go on all day but I am sure you might think I have just gone mad
I assure you I am ok it is just the pain that makes me seem mad
good day and goodbye you have been really kind.
Button up, and strut,
grab the cane and the hat,
she’s got her favourite clutch and such,
who knows with girls and their pearls,
The lights shine bright,
the greasers start a fight,
but it’s Saturday, so it’s quite alright,
sittin in the club,
waitin for some grub,
grab a tab, we jab and josh and slosh,
The bass stands upright,
and so does the crowd,
she’s got that beaded dress fitting so tight,
curves singing out loud,
bunny hopping to beats,
and keeping that scotch real neat,
Hair up high, in a beehive,
oh behave darlin we’re daring to dance so close,
we got those air ride dreams of pure hope,
concept cars and velvet ropes,
let’s take it to the show,
We saved all week for a night like this,
a little shine, a little bliss,
didn’t take much cash to feel first class,
just a jukebox glow and a dance that lasts,
now the prices climb and the nights get thin,
but oh, we remember where we’ve been,
Beep boppin to the retro gaze,
it’s easy to look back in a lavender haze,
in Button Down Town, we shine what we’ve got,
pressed up dreams and a Saturday shot,
yeah, we lived it up proud,
in our button down crowd,
Beep boppin to the retro gaze,
it’s easy to look back in a lavender haze,
in Button Down Town, the nights felt long,
chrome bright hopes and a jukebox song,
yeah, the world spun slow
in that lavender glow,
Love like you've never loved before
Reaching your hand out to a closed door
Thinking I knew what was in store
Now I'm suffering, my heart bleeding on the floor
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
In the club dancing, alone on the wall
posted up chillin' , drunk, trying not to fall
Not a care at all,
I feel seven feet tall.
Influenced by the alcohol, stimulated by the beats
No matter the intoxication I methodically move my feet,
Pelvic thrusting is how I greet
This beauty who smells so sweet.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Look,
This is for everyone who has met their soul mate only to find out that
their search is far from over.. Is their such a person, can one satisfy
enough to to maintain love?
Sometimes skeletons rise from hibernation and those skeletons become
loves' Achilles heal... Stealing what hope was their, leaving you alone,
left posted on the wall...
In the club trying to yet again fall...
Jared Pickett
8/28/09
Asavvy1
From Hip-Hop to bop, we ride the jazz tide, swing till you drop/underground Monk playin' some funk/Max Roach coaching the field, drums in the playbook/ Brother Jack McDuff runnin' for a touch down in the open filed/Superman and Jimmy Smith, the dynamic duo’s look flyin' high/Abstract truths on the wall, Warhol’s silver glow/Basquiat’s brush storms the gallery floor/Miles, out of the kool, breakin’ every rule/a trumpet thunderbolt/ stereo vinyl playin'/ Sonny Rollins vibes in the club, cookin’ up fresh notes/church bells ring in his horn/ Man, a river of quotes/The Jazz Messengers mark the milestones in the mist/Miles all the way live, his Sketches of Spain we can’t resist/ HiFi prayers/ Jazz time/ Peace and love for all mankind/Blue Mitchell in the barroom a mural on the wall/Man, it’s all right, baby, hear the crowd ignite/Wynton Kelly’s trio is out of sight like way gone/From street corners to jazz low down rooms, the groove is our creed/a lineage of legends planted in every reed/Spoken in breath, in rhyme, in rhythm’s Sly Stones art/a saga of swing that lives on, heart to jaged heart/ The soulful vibes keeps use alive
Saw you standing in the club door,
not my normal kind,
something I you just grabbed my stare,
tumbled through my mind.
Had to come and buy you a drink,
had to know your name,
I just want to skip right ahead
past all the foolish games.
All the thing I could do to you,
keep you busy the whole night through,
you and I could be something new
come the break of day.
Come the break of day, yeah,
come the break of day,
come the break of day, yeah,
come the break of day,
come the break of day, yeah,
come the break of day,
all the things I could do to you,
keep you busy the whole night through,
you and I will be something new,
come the break of day.
There’s been others that come and go,
and we’ve had some times,
but something in your look makes me
read between the lines,
pull me deeper with the coy grin,
the lilt upon your lips,
there may be miles between us,
but you’re worth the trip.
All the things I will do to you,
keep you moaning the whole night through,
you and I will make something new,
come the break of day.
Come the break of day, yeah,
come the break of day,
come the break of day, yeah,
come the break of day,
come the break of day, yeah,
come the break of day,
All the things I will do to you,
keep you moaning the whole night through,
you and I will make something new,
come the break of day.
Don’t know…how you’re doing this,
I’ll go…if you will come with,
we’ll leave…this flashy basement,
I think…that you’re a godsend.
Let’s be…much more than one night,
let me…wake up by your side,
I know…that we’ll’ be alright,
each and every day.
Come the break of day, yeah,
come the break of day,
come the break of day, yeah,
come the break of day,
come the break of day, yeah,
come the break of day,
all the things I can do for you,
wake besides you every morn, too,
you and I will build something true,
come the break of day.
I don’t usually talk about a club, in the club
but last night I was chattering breathlessly, at midnight,
about how right the club had gotten its atmosphere.
I’m never quite sure, design-wise, what’s ‘now’ and what’s retro nuance.
My bf Peter said the design was “Warholism,” whatever THAT is.
I gave him a puzzled look and he said. “The Factory?” Like that meant something.
Why is he so much smarter than me? It’s unjust.
Lets wax poetically..
The drinks were priced like artifacts
but we ordered them like essentials.
A club is a machine calibrated for pleasure.
Similar to real life, but with much better lighting
plus their decors are tuned to optimistic escapism.
Last night’s club, was all chrome and blue light
making us feel like we were on a spaceflight
Clubs hit escape velocity around midnight
when everyone’s having their own garish moment
- crowds roll in on the vibe, and things warm up.
When moving on the floor started to feel like work
we escaped the ordinary for the cooler mezzanine
We arrived as our drinks were being freshened up
I tip well and they’re happy to manage my money
It was a good thing. Our generation doesn’t know
how to wait without looking like we’re waiting.
BTW: Don’t you LOVE anti-spiking drink covers?! #justbrilliant
ok, now it’s Saturday morning
My head is pounding, as if someone were striking it,
every thirty seconds or so, with a timpani malot.
“That was the LAST time..” I moan, but I was being ironic.
I know it’s not true, Peter knows it’s not true, I know, he knows,
I know it’s not true - but he gets my meaning - that’s irony.
Peter never seems to have a hangover and at times it pisses me off.
“How do you feel,” I ask him in my smallest voice - lest I awake the timpanist.
“Fine,” he says, with an enjoyable sense of righteousness.
He sips his coffee as if he has not a care.
“You’re only fine because your head is empty,” I lash out in a whisper.
.
.
A song for this:
Can't Tame Her by Zara Larsson
Tears by Sabrina Carpenter [E]
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[E] = Explicit lyrics