Another nightly ascent up the stairs towards my solitary bedroom.
Slightly tainted with opiate night perfumes, glistening green totems await;
O souls beyond the time before time was time,
Is there a bright future ahead?
Only the note of B flat spills out of nocturnal batrachian depths.
Strange birds are howling and the black river is almost comatose across the road.
There is a mauve, antediluvian horror clinging to my window pane.
Green tree frogs, watch my sleep as I turn into a star;
I rest in the abode of Orion and my body melts into sweet smelling lilies,
Keep your sorceries around me like green jade amulets,
Trace your rainwater sigils around my bed,
Leap into my dreams and teach me your purple magics.
O pleasures of the nightside borderland,
O silly little green things.
Andy O’(Snaps fingers rhythmically) The air hangs thick with midnight blue/And the city hums a graffiti tune/ a voice cuts through, a velvet blade/Andy O’, where stories are made/Poet, Musician, Broadcaster's soul/Navigating the sonic scroll of a downbeat that will never fade/KUVO Jazz, a haven's light/On Sunday nights, banishing the uptight/The Nightside a whispered promise kept/Where restless minds and tired souls have wept/And found solace in a whispered rhyme/A tapestry woven, defying space and time/Mr. Andy O’ cradles the jazz, a smoky embrace/And invites the poetry to find its place/A conversation, deep and low/Of saxophone sighs and verses that flow/The ongoing relationship, raw and true/Between a trumpet's cry and Gil Scott heron spoken word on heartache, hope, and dreams deferred/In every chord and every whispered word/So tune in to the hip Andy O’/ let the darkness fade/As Andy O’ builds the jazzy serenade of stars on the poetry and jazz parade/ For on the Nightside, the truth is revealed In the marriage of poetry, and how jazz makes us feel to be real in the truth of it/ Andy O’ Snaps fingers, silence/ And walks away to broadcast for another day/
Tony Adamo
Cardboard boxes filled on the floor,
Photos gone from nightside table,
Where we read a bedtime fable.
Twinges as I walk by her door,
Her sweet bed where she use to lay;
Sits empty yet another day.
Happiness, no crying I swore,
Accomplishments I am in awe;
Her future is a life in law.
Time has gone so fast, I want more.
That crazy smile and ponytail;
always melts my heart without fail.
Missing my daughter I adore.
So proud and knowing she’ll do well
but her absence still hurts like hell.
Cardboard boxes filled on the floor,
Twinges as I walk by her door,
Happiness, no crying I swore,
Time has gone so fast, I want more.
Missing my daughter I adore.
Written August 26, 2012
For Andrea Dietrich’s contest
“Can You Constanza”
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