My mind a cave of favorite characters
And greatest hits
A life time of connections and sidekicks
Frank Zappa plays the soundtrack
In a tumble of tightly compressed acoustic riffs
A genius long gone, but ever present.
When he’s done he says,
In tightly compressed electronic bytes
“May we burn it all down.”
And I wake refreshed
To another day, another dawn.
(9/17/26)
I sold my brother's coin collection for a fix/
Police and thieves/
Coke n smack, synth riffs and puffs
Jack McDuff, Sure ’Nuff ’n funk for you/
My life is on freeze, please don't tease
Pop the beat, heroin junkies down the street
Hookers trickin' where we used to meet/
Jazz horn and the abstract truth
The cross is afraid of women's rights/
Stay on the fight, the truth is right
Lo-fi delights while eating shrooms/
Mojave Desert eagle walk
While wearing peyote buttons round my neck
As we talked, a raven's feather flew in her hair
She was high on acid and said
I looked like a shaman dancing with a bear/
"Solos come and go, but riffs last forever." ~ Keith Richards
Mick and Keith just came out with a single,
and they say it's a pretty good jingle.
That's why it makes sense
that these elderly gents
have "Rock and Roll Legends" on their shingle.
A kid when they rose from obscurity,
now I've reached a state of maturity;
or said another way,
as of this very day,
I'll be taking social security.
The Stones say our destiny is in stars
to the tune of Keith Richards guitar;
and if you ask me,
I'd have to agree,
just because we've all made it this far.
So, just what is poetry?
An endless attempt to rhyme with orange?
A forever searching of the soul for meaning?
An idyll fantasy a-dance with alliteration’s riffs?
An individual search for “our” Holy Grail
Perhaps, a distant song
Forever playing in our heads,
Sung softly ‘neath the murmur of the day.
Pitons driven into the stony crust of life.
A mud puddle inviting us to make mud pies
Rekindle the joy of soft pliable words
Shaping a moment to ponder
Poetry’s resonant question
“who makes the best mud pies”
Shades of grey cascades on rainy days
Petrichor reigns after each pitter patter
Radiance of earthy fragrance does flatter
Teardrops down panes.. splitter splatter
Fades to whiffs chiding riffs spit scatter
Forever about weather they do natter
Seems the one thing that does matter
Flowers cowers at showers which batter
Tiffs as petal in fine fettle does shatter
Down trodden by a sodden mad hatter
Raised bed fed on shed drops clatter
Spoils for alluvial soils a pluvial platter
Some veg in tatters others seem fatter
Folks chitter chatter.. prefer the latter
Cumulus nimbus nimbly flitter & flutter
Sunrays grasp after a last gasp stutter
Sliding gliding riding wooden shutter
Rasp of uncouth din off a roof of tin
Staccato rinse & repeat beat does utter
Burgling drains & gurgling in the gutter
Huddles of puddles cuddle and splutter
Parched Earth’s skin softens like butter
Mother Nature's own homegrown nutter
Folks groan have to clear up soaked clutter
Mumble prone to moan but not a tut tutter
Mustn't grumble need the tumble they mutter
Here's a savage diss track inspired by the given song and context:
You're still lying in the dark, waiting for a call
But I'm the one who's been ghosting you, standing tall
You thought you had a chance, but I was just playing games
Left you alone, with the ticking of the clock, and the shame
You're still wondering where I am, but I'm with someone new
Neyo's got nothing on me, when it comes to loving you
Kiss' guitar riffs can't compare, to the pain I'm about to bring
You're just a memory, a distant ring, and I'm the one who's king
You thought you had my heart, but it was just a lie
I was using you, to get by, and now you're saying goodbye
You're still trying to get me alone, but I'm long gone
You're just a whisper in the wind, and I'm the one who's moving on
You're still got the chills, but it's not from my love
It's from the realization, that you're not enough
I'm the one who's got the power, and you're just a pawn
You're still singing alone, but I'm the one who's got the song
You're still searching for a love, that's real and true
But I'm the one who's got the upper hand, and I'm coming for you.
I went on a bike ride, I was hyper-alert
I had just emerged from the mental ward
I thought I was despised, felt wounded and hurt
But I lied to the doctor to get out the door
For the first miles I felt the wind in my hair
Then a car drove by, I heard a loud jeer
It was just a dog with his nose in the air
I had mistaken my species, all was clear.
Two miles on, an ambush from the side
A loud sneer, I felt sudden stress
On closer look, a Downs Syndrome guy
I let out my breath, stress got less.
Got into Kingston, car passed, a shout
"Go Home" it said, and then passed by
Was this true, should I block it out?
Why riff off a chord, if the chord don't apply?
Ten miles later, a hand reached out of a car
Tried to push me off the road
They failed, but threw my mind's door ajar
Stress climbed, I felt I would explode.
I crested a hill, a view opened wide
Then I started to think, was it all the same?
Why get anxious, on this scenic ride?
My illusions and theirs - it' was all a game.
Trump's colonial riffs an elite doodle
Sanctimonial meet & greet canoodle
Baronial seats for cheats still feudal
Sheriffs tariffs tiffs will eat our strudel
Testimonial tweet use your own noodle
Whiffs of taking the complete caboodle
Sniffs EU bleat of what ifs America's poodle
Let’s get set for yet another reset
Tiffs with each other riffs of what ifs
Definitely brother not your best bet
Wallow mounting mountain of debt
Follow internet fountain jet of regret
Caught in vaunted haunted silhouette
They tighten the net frighten bloodlet
Swallow your pride or with ease can forget
Beset our society on its knees under threat
But won’t get het up…so please don’t fret
Wild child.. don't the proverbial bed wet
Implore ignore being a bore.. the teacher’s pet
Or commuter the computer your tutor & suitor
Just be a looter and a future freebooter cadet
Don’t now vet all the people you’ve met
Vow over the small stuff you won't sweat
Don’t tease somehow have a tete a tete
Pleas to seize every day the appetite whet
Might not be a breeze but helluva wheeze
Cos tomorrow could be your best day yet!
For Eric Clapton
One day a friend asked
if a single note
struck by his hand
could make someone cry.
Yesterday I watched a video
of him in concert, his life
played out in a progressions
of riffs and chords as his life
played out on stage and the light
shown upon him.
I call it passion.
I call it love.
Blue lights, red lights, yellow.
O how he has lived beyond
the worst times of his life.
I admit I’ve lived hard times, too,
And to this day I admit
I look for his song.
Outside my window
a leaf turned color
falls to the ground—
and the year passes with a whisper.
The housecat sits at the top
of the stairs, while downstairs
someone stirs, but lyrics run
through my head, such passion.
My mind’s eye sees the faces
of women I loved. I’m left
with unfinished conversations.
Forget riffs of regrets
But
To the hilt
We tilt to
Inbuilt lilt
A guilt quilt
Can jilt & wilt
But
No tiffs with what ifs
Won’t let you fret
Circumspect.. I find
Older you get
Bet..more honest…more kind
Care more..know more
Late bloomer rumour
Embraces candour...humour
Respect velvety vagaries
Traces of reflect
Suspect future’s the tutor
Detect serendipity the suitor
Evolution..glints of revolution
Pip that convoluted New Year’s tip
Genuinely don’t genuflect
No sorrow...deflect hints
Of mooted rebooted resolution
Suspect Tomorrow might
Be your best day yet!
it is a nightmare and a terrible place
a confrontation, a quick draw, frightful conclusion
glass: empty of illusion
a pagan deity whose hard eyes shall drink you in
and spit
and run over you
like an obnoxious lorry
or through you
as a plough
at this abandoned carnival marooned in the undesirable
wilds and the nonorgasmic
riffs of ticking clocks
working juju on your brain
every grasshopper is a man in the bush
where the bushes are mirrors
laughing at you/your pathetic fallacies
smart flesh
gorgeous teeth
and confident hair
awaiting dignity's end
You laughed too hard in 1996/
Thought I'd trip and stay down for kicks/
But I climbed back up, twice the size/
Now I shred, watch the sparks fly/
My drummer joked, said guitars are lame/
Left him roadside, questioning fame/
Why does a guitar need a case, he asked/
To contain its stringed up past/
Steel strings bend, the pick obeys/
My solos melt minds in dazzling rays/
You call it noise; I call it fate/
Crowds roar, my riffs attack/
Like a clown with a vengeance strapped to his back/
Why did the guitar cross the road/
To escape tuning abuse overload/
Strumming stainless, lyrics sharp/
Every chord bite, every note barks/
What's a guitarist least favorite job/
A fretting accountant, stuck in a fog/
Clowns don't cry, we shred and slay/
This guitar doesn't play, it dictates the day/
Why did the guitar get detention in class/
It couldn't stop playing tricks so crass/
Now I roll into your town, no disguise/
My solos make statues blink their eyes/
One last joke before I'm done/
Why don't guitars ever tell lies/
Because their strings keep them strung/
it starts off sounding
complicated
one them ones
thats what you make it
sounds and mixes
tuned for a band
ah singer would say
you can't sing over this
we say
"yes you can'
Background singer
wiff the Creame ah: ooh ahh's
funky groove
bouncing bras
finger snapping
sounds delicous
phat beats
grooves nutreincous
rizpetto set in stanzas
in the video she's on cameras
Changed the lyrics we gotta
new duration
suppozza sing it
but he gonna say it
sound the brasses
sing sumthang like
re-ahh sha wah
the ooh ah-ooh ah on the grind me parts
ahh chi-cha dew wah
bassline licks
hot and stankin
sum strings to sooth the sound
and vocalists getting down
the kinda sound
to were the musics grooving
beats keeps all-ya'll movin
Crunk and full of soul
ya'll like those
ah-she wahs
goofin wiff dah ah-she ah's
riffs groovin on the Wonez
Riffs Grooving on
the Wonez
Fickle sunbeams tickle fluttering daydreams...…
Lyrical lapping lullaby encores...
Gingerly stroke sandy shell shattered shores..
Starlings spy…sky high murmurations...
Skimming stones....slicing silky sheens..
Voluptuously verdant riddles…islands within idylls...
Scattered daffy darlings..dilly dally...
Sunshine splattered chlorophyll candles...
Animosity as an ersatz monstrosity shines…
Saluting highfalutin pomposity..devouring skylines..
Notes of cut grass gloats floats from..
Middle class mowed manicured marvels..
Criss cross collaborations… surf the tailored turf....
Billiards baize ablaze with petrichor whiffs
Festooned with afternoon nana nap snores..
The radio's heavenly hum of cricket scores...
A duvet of familiar riffs...murmurs of what if's..
An inkling..whispers of summer's sprinkling serendipity twinkling..
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