shooting the low life

[revolutionrabbit]

the jazz spills in
and jazz spills out
dark horns blow shadows down
streets of fleeting conversation
words were talking to words
standing around like cool cats
all this happening like in a cheek dime novel
the naked poem in the novel of flesh factories
strip joints of universities make love to anti-gravity
as long lingering kiss sentences speak with zero lips
in a muted ramble of shuffling accents & hip
all the big things like cities and black holes...
smoking the words into the circus mirrors-of-nowhere
and the katty corner of lucky and chief-space-out-here
motherfucker sucker signs of nothing & neon, on, off
make up the background to the outta mind music
distant galaxies spin around as space junk grinds
more loaded dice words wander in like hard nails
everything just goes on like nothing has changed
but the colors of certain noises linger in the halls
underground trains speak the language of jazz
and murder blues in the shoe shine box
even as the hollow sounds of totality and time
hide in the reflections of passing passengers
ride in the distant compartments of reality
like ragged mutants huddling in poet alleys
huge spots of hurricanes rush past the clock tears
in chance night stations of shifting paradigms and soul
closets hanging out with the confession booths of what?
shooting the low life with the high nigh stuff enough what

[saw]

this reads well aloud, has a beat sound and feel to it.... Kerouacian memories surface with a tinge of psychedelic lyrics .....a 50's 60's vibe....."I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in".......

[theirishsea]

I like a lot in this but especially these lines

everything just goes on like nothing has changed
but the colors of certain noises linger in the halls
underground trains speak the language of jazz
and murder blues in the shoe shine box