Long The blues Poems
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Stars like jeans
are made to fade
their blues bleed out
in the wash-up,
in the burn-out,
in their legacies of
spin cycle routines.
But the twinkling glitter
in their burnout flares,
falls like rain
from shooting stars
in shimmering showers,
that cling on tight,
like the curse
of forever chemicals.
No one can ever scrub them clean
from party clothes
washed all alone,
by themeselves,
rinsed and spun,
rinsed and spun,
in washing machine
cycle routines.
So these spun-out,
hang out, party clothes,
are stored shrouded in plastic
to stop the glitter's spread
in the wardrobe,
in the armoire's bottom draws,
to dim the legend’s
endearing stain of
faded fame.
Stars like jeans
are made to fade
the blues bleed out
in the wash-up
in the burn-out,
in their legacies of
spin cycle routines.
AN INSTRUMENT
&
THE PLAYER
Once upon a time - not so long ago - encountered, was this exotic GU ZHENG. Fate, placed this lovely Instrument, into the hands of an old player, a musician who had been laid to rest, who had lain dormant, frozen in time, among the ashes of reflections of the music he once played, music that created the sights and sounds that made up the visions he now looks into, of his past.
This old man's abilities - decaying, flaccid from so many years of neglect and impotency - came to life, to life with such desire, that it made possible, movements from his tired old mind, mouth, hands and fingers that would play sounds, vibrations of heavenly music, that would sing to the ears of his lost old soul, lifting his spirit to heights once only known to his youth now to extro into the world of the living, once again, fingers - like that of the gods - gliding over this elegant, sweet Instrument, caressing her with whispered strokes, much like those of silent breezes on a clear, worm summer's day as they slide across the quivering strings of this beautiful GU ZHENG, that now - after so brief a moment, making such heavenly articulations -has given up the music, ending the dance, turning down low, the lights that once, where as brilliant as a million suns, and taking the music - silently drifting across the players recollections of tunes they once danced to -and slipping it into the hands of another .
The old musician slips into a cloak of sadness, of dark dirges he puts into his own words, plays from his instrument, - the broken heart - plucking at it's dead strings, bringing to life the blues, the song of his awakening .
B. J."A" 2
February 16th 2011
Teal entreats and cuddles the appellant granted gifts
a third spun away and sprung a new course to breathe
a new blend of Flora life amidst the Fungi and Fauna breeds.
Soon it'll cast a shade of dryness and thirst for the blues, soothe all those who will drink and sop in the order to stay above and be watered.
A sway to filtering reds and oranges rustling in its fall,
building in heaps as an old raker takes a coffee break
watching future rakers, frolics about them.
It's not until the winds blow them away and maintain a steady course of Ivory flakes. They kiss the virgin ground as an introduction that winter snow will tether about and around. As it mounts up so Frosty's can dot neighborhood front homes, with roads for precious souls to view besides colorful well-lit front yards, decorate interiors and their immediate exteriors
All are processing those distinctive Ivory flakes where no two are alike. Their crystalline prisms boast for a while hosting their time as their own. Ivory particles and or Ivory flakes bless the grounds, as well as the eyes that behold them.
Melting does not rob memory bliss, as the fortunate beating hearts pause for a short period as the first sunrise, adrift the last Ivory Flake as they kiss their nose-tips ... a fond farewell.
Pale white against the ghostly fog
Smoke curled for lack of oxygen
Black rim glasses hide, head bows
Conceal eyes of cool cat daddy-o
In dark, goatee, groomed and moody
Beret tilted silhouetted, covers identity
Captures blues wrapped in a sax
Brown paper bags cover booze
Jazz releases notes unknown to claps
Fingers snap approval to the poets silence
Something to be trusted no matter what
Underworld shadows gather dust
A secret spot built on a fog bank conjured up
On a dingy dream found five steps down
A hideaway ten degrees below zero and counting
Leading beyond all cafe dive boundaries
Cold nights survive on hanging tunes
College degrees wall to wall leave hollow marks
Jive time turkeys hold on to hot tea instead
Twilight characters friendly as death reset
Step down in reality to displease history
Bass man puffs his last cigarette
Joint smokers fill up the cavern
Underworld types gather with germs abounding
Fallen ash in trays lose attention
Coffee stains on tables remain
Stale as bread half consumed
Down and dirty with the blues
Tinted in a melancholy stench
Night life rises numb, basement ready
Dim lights permeate the senses
Lays waste to the alley cat man
Smoke rises in a trance to swoon
Turtle necks hold stiff men intact
A band doing hourly sessions Jam
Bass players hammer out shadows
Discord is all that matters
To mimic politics, smoke marijuana
The attraction of the day is on the menu
Curse words say it all
Snap and double snap poetry incognito
Verses flow like painted butter on walls
On melted atomic babies breath powdered bottom
For war, use the toilets next door on the right
Bullets are the flavor of the day
The favorite flavor after blanks
Matchstick men in bazooka suits flirt
The moon turns supersonic jello cool
Cool cats know squares from pigs
Cubes are abstractions of night sticks
Never mix with visions of gas lamps
It is a gas man, can you dig it
Elephant dancers run wild man
Suspicious of pigs who shoot first
Ask questions about bacon later
Snap daddy snap on beatnik back
the sick sun returns to die my stomach stings squirms and burns eternity is calling out a warm meal my jaw tenses up the breath goes into my swollen throat a lady bug crawls on a string attached to a ceiling light stalin chokes on his blood as his doctors watch the lady bug creeps towards the hot bulb burning my eyes blink sleep beckons me to bed through the cold window the blues slide into my bones the room darkens grey holocaust films haunt my morning memories old ladies cry tears of pain burnt bodies in ovens thoughts disjointed deep pauses in reason i squeeze each strained word from my fingers shrill guitar notes from old blues tunes creep the lady bug has gone towards the cold plastic covered window someone give me a sign a mystery angel or a god i need a faith that i can touch the blues beat drives on like a knock on my door trains filled with frozen human corpses the smell of dry stench cat spray rotting garbage piled wrappers and waste smiling politicians buses and trains roll on through the night a wife grins as she cheats on her husband pictures of air-brushed beauties in magazine stands next to candy-bars and gum illiterate citizens drive with cell-phones on their ears i’m scouring emptiness for magic verses clouds of silver heaven oil jesus portraits grandmothers’ cookies and milk giggling monogamous sex frowning faces vinyl flowers shopping carts filled with frozen food classic rock bus-stops power-chairs enough the high-pitched guitar note drones the bright computer screen hurts my eyes i fight wanton hunger leaves rustle in the cool november wind i see these words they exist my fingernails keep growing fingernails grow on dead human bodies i’m alive strange moments nothing makes sense but i’m afraid to die crawlin’ king snake crackles through the speakers i know my girl loves me food promises love and life sunny days and holidays i scratch my head hunger gnaws on me sugar runs low in my blood my brain slows my words huff and try to push the wall down
Would I dare
to walk a mile in her shoes
To put my feet in cinder's slippers
marry a handsome prince
who turns out to be another Jafar
Would I dare to let the glass shards
of those tight slippers
slice open my heels till I bleed
Would I dare
to let dignity purse my lips tightly
and let pride silence the cry
Would I dare to own her brains
to taste mental yeast's bitter shame
Would I be the servant and cook
the tutor,cab driver,the warrior ,the lover
the whor* of an unfinished book
to be thanked by insults and be called out names
To be the one that He always blames
Would I dare feel the sweat of his fist
without being bruised nor being hit
Would I find Alice,call her a fool
Does she know ,there is no wonderland
if you live to the vow and play by the rule
What about God,His promised land
Does this hourglassed desert
ever feel the touch of His hand
Will She taste frosted manna
if She runs far away
Or would she challenge the bully
and have it her way
Does her dream ever leave the blues
Would he look in her eyes
Would He dare to walk
a mile in her shoes?
Hey all you Soupers
Did you take my advice
Smile at the world
Always try to be nice
Even when people
Are rude and obnoxious
Pretend you don't notice
Don't cause a big ruckus
The world is searching
For people like us
To show them the way
This way is a must
We sure can survive
The damage that's done
It isn't too late
Send the blues on the run
To start let's abolish
All the wars and strife
We weren't meant for that
Let clean up our life
We can start at home
A great place to start
More harmony there
Is good for the heart
Tell your loved ones
How much they all mean
You'll love their reaction
They'll burst at the seams
In closing I'll send you
Big hugs so humongous
You'll think I'm a bear
My hugs so rambunctious
Hey all you Soupers
Did you take my advice
Smile at the world
Always try to be nice
© Jack Ellison 2013
When you feel like your world
is collapsing around you
And you don’t know who to turn to.
I’ll be there !
And when you feel that love has
Evaded you for so long
And you need to become strong.
I’ll be there !
I will be around, when you’re
Stumbling and falling to the ground
I will hear your cry ,when you want
To sit and die.
I’ll be there ! To show I care.
But until you tell me that you don’t care
I will dream - or should I dare ?
You have my heart, so what can I do
Should I give up and accept the blues?
Just tell me that you feel the same as me
And you will set my heart and soul free.
Then and only then will you find a love so true
And that I will always belong to you.
And no matter what the world may throw at you
I’ll be there - to see you through.
How sad!
How bad
I didn't know, I just found out
Your lovely daughter, she spat it out
Nine years had flown by
I did not know you were going to die
Even when we reconnected you were braver than I
You with an incurable illness, knowing you would soon die
I heard you coughing on the phone
You sounded so bad, I didn't want you to get worse
I didn't want to picture you in a box in a hearse
So I let you go in the hope that you would recover, be well enough to speak to me
When I disconnected the phone, it hit me like a flash
My cutting our conversation short was rash
You knew your end was in sight
Yet you wouldn't give up hope, you put up a good fight
You were an amazing friend, a great mum and a good wife
Yet God saw it fit and He called you to be by His side
Your oncologist was a jerk, he lied
You went to hell and back with chemo, radiotherapy and other treatments that were never going to work
I hate that you suffered so much, I went berserk
Fury at what they put you through only to tell you it had all been in vain
In the end, you went through more and more pain
Why I say can't anyone be honest in this life?
You could have spent more time with your children and your husband who was your world in this life
The shock of hearing you passed was too much to bear
The reality of it gave me a scare
Now you're gone and I think of you every day
I wish I could comfort your children more, but they are too far away
I wish I could hug them and tell them it will be ok
Did fate intervene at some point in time?
I'm only able to express my thoughts and feelings when I sit down and rhyme
I was speechless when I heard the sad news
And today is the first time I don't have the blues
Goodbye is not the right word
Because you've departed from this world
You're in my heart and you're there to stay
All I can do now is pray and pray
December 10, 2019
When we go to see all the beasts
we know that it is great.
Being right near the local zoo
you're sure to take the bait.
Animals in many sizes
in colors, shades, and hues.
But did you know they will listen
when people sing the blues?
How do I know about this fact
about the cutest beasts?
Because I spend most all my time,
my zoo card is well greased.
I will stay for hours at a time
and never want to leave.
I talk to them and they know what
I'm saying, I believe.
I have a special bond with them
for this I know is true
because animals look my way,
when leaving makes them blue.
So I will try and come each day
to treat them to my mind.
The peace and pure tranquility
help me too, I do find.