Tuesday, February 8, 2011

' Grave '

strange Yeats robbed the second Coming,
challenged Howl Ginsberg raped,
stone steps repugnant stench of Dante',
blood dried feather of Poe,
rage against light that can die.

Howl , " Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani ? ",
indignant of fury or Love,
sin fills the casket gold,
lay sword upon shoulder,
of funeral in the wind.

no breathe fall spirit false,
beat verse waving tapestry,
decay draped abandoned estate,
chime toll the corpse,
brown edged paper and ink.

turn , Turn season dark,
hand reaches to knock,
Life spilled on rocky shelf,
Book of Word and Truth,
dirt and spittle open eyes to See.

 : To the poets and troubadours 
who penned darkness as they stole
from the Word of God.
Yet , they would deny His very existence.
Photo :  Jim Morrison's Grave

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

' I Learn'd tha lyrics a' blues on tha streets ya see '

But ya gots ta know
how this writ'n' thang goes,
it be's 'bout storytellin'
from beginnin' ta en'.

A man onced tells me
I's gots ta be's rich
ta be's a poet,
but I's gots that itch.

so I's scribble down
ev'ry tittle I find,
'cause another man tolds me
it's like a photo defined.

so here I goes
tryin ta tell ya this,
I likes writin' them words
That others did miss.

I writes 'cause ya see's,
it be's that thang ta do.
you knows I means well ,
bein' I ain't a hundred an' two.

I's jus' gets bored sometimes ,
an' start jottin' stuff down.
Then it all comes back to me,
I's 'spose ta be a clown.

Nah na , that can't be right,
I's been sittin' here all night.
I's got this pencil 'n papers ya see,
"Without Jesus, ain't much be's in me .

so if's ya gets
all ser'ous an' stuff,
jus' gets real
an' leaves tha fluff.

Sometimes a work in character voice produces
lines from the heart , Robin .
art : painting of Charlie Christian
( Who was an electric guitar genius over 20 years
   before Jimi Hendrix)