Big Time Poetry Melt Word Jam 02-18-05

[stilltrucking]

i hear blue grass
Old and in the way

when only fire existed
and music

ther's is a blue
this morning and
it is, I tell ya, deeper
than ya ever imagined..................

"Und in silbernen Augen
Spiegeln sich die schwarzen Schatten unserer Wildnis",

crow woman
gathers silence
like a basket of nuts

he is the son of the sun

I am the sun of a crow woman
a fiesta of angel crows


edited one time

[judih]

telephone wires
witchy tai tai in the
rum oronika oronika

witchy tai tai witchy tai tai
which he ties ties, witches

[moldyB]

women,
i wish to be allowed
to bask in your glory
that which i may not
be apart
i pray you shall let me
kiss upon your feet
as you give birth to
to the infinite
each day that is

[WIREMAN]

red witches white witches blue witches
even lil clear witches all of em, every
last one of em, watching the agua.........

[Lightning Rod]

there is a beer crisis in birdland
all the fouls are blinking fast
and the referee blows his whistle
the cock would crow
but he spent himself in the night
and once again at dawn

[judih]

where i come from, moldyb
a woman and a man
make infinity better

[heather]

the guitar evolved from dinosaurs
like a warbling forensic
with no eyelids

In essence
in the grand scheme
of all that is chance
Prickle
that bass playing wonder
with the decidedly UNchild like voice
amongst children
played a master part?

[moldyB]

i know judih.......but man has made himself seem so more important when all he does is give some sperm while the women is responsible for creating a new universe

[Lightning Rod]

when a sperm whale comes
he comes in quarts, not tablespoons
his swimmers make swimmers
and singers and the
philosophy of the deep.

[heather]

he makes swimmers
randomly appying
his x or his y
or is it so random...
free will exercised
before the first breath

[judih]

when the guitar climbed out of my womb
we smiled!
it's a girl we sighed
her svelte shape already signalling
the handful she'd be

3,000 years later
she still plays the chords of fifths and fourths
and minors
with major overtones
and strums of lust and love

our little guitar
a woman
of the universe

[Lightning Rod]

my first guitar was a girl as well
she gently weeped and tightened
her g string a half step up to Jimi Hendrix
too soon she went to Africa
and plugged in her amp
turned it up to ten
and screamed like
a punk angel of rock
I am the father of her guitar

[whimsicaldeb]

J (wrote)… (..” … still plays the chords of fifths and fourths
and minors with major overtones and strums of lust and love)

Don’t forget triplets!
(tercets)

Ah … sweet cords in the morning!
Hummed or drummed or thumbed.

_ _ _ (the poem pauses…..


psssssssssssst judih (she whispers…. don’t let them see!)

I have something for you … check out these life size puppets – ENJOY! but – don’t let them see you, don’t let them know you’re gone for a moment (distracted) by the whisperings of a “mad” woman … HA!


The Comedy of Errors, 2004: James Carpenter, Brian Keith Russell, Puppets by Chris Brown
photo by Jay Yamada http://www.calshakes.org


_ _ _ the poem resumes)

Or written upon the waves of the sun
All for one, Total FUN!

Morning’s begun

[stilltrucking]

and screamed like
a punk angel of rock

punch drunk angel seduced by the sound of an electric guitar

acoustic or electric it is all good to me

1968
The Roosevelt Hotel where camden yards is now, a beat hotel with a bar in the basement. Not too far from Mt Vernon Square and The Peabody Conservatory, classical flutist playing in a jazz band. That is thirty seven years and I can still feel that room" a crumb of happiness and beauty, I don't get jazz, but I got the audience ambience of now, that time, outside the city burns on MLK day
behind the bar a sign said "have a nice trip" it was years before I understood what that meant

jimi I hardly knew ya and behind every gangsta is a suit in a crockadile skin cashing in on teeny bopper testosterone

one edit

[stilltrucking]

a fiesta of angel crows

down at alamo mission
the virgin mother and the holy ghost
I would pray there, fall on my knees, prostrate myself if prayer could heal

the ancestors
to heal them
you need to tell their truth

crazy mike had no god, and that is the god I believe in
the god of my mother, I believe in her god

warm hearts,
can only
survive.

the warm heart of a woman
it must be at least four degrees hotter than a man

Above, the Gods laugh.
We attempt to discover their mockery.

"God is not mocked except by believers"

i have followed the presence of flesh, met
death as a friend at my dor, wore my hair
in glistened shades of grey and gold, sold
memories in exchange for glances of affection,

the presence of skin not my own
a dilogue of the skin and words
but I have only glimpsed death
I have not met that angel yet
and a grave is a fine and private place
world enough and time
there would not be a crime
the culprit life still lurks

It's too late
never too late?
ha - late is late

later
2 edits and done
so much beauty
so many pages of fun
eighteen so far and rolling home

back later for the end of my morning mania
and a meloncholy evening