SLOW DANCING AT THE BLUES BAR

Feeling electric

Current

Generated by you, us, moving

That slow dance to the blues band

Your head resting on

My heart

Beating

Moving

To the music

Feeling

More than hearing

The music

You

Touching me

Slow dancing

Electric current

Turned on

Electric

The music

Moving

On the dance floor

Those moments, moving

Afterward

Days pass

Remembering

We are not the same, now

Advertisements

A Future Blues Song

Broke Again

Broke again, and a week until payday

Broke again and I don’t know where it went

Broke again, and a week until payday

Got nothing to show and my money’s all spent

 

I have a good time till the money’s all gone

I have a good time, I just do as I please

I have a good time till the money’s all gone

And I’m all out of cash and I’m feeling the squeeze

 

I’m struggling till payday, don’t know what I’ll do

I’m struggling till payday, how will I get by?

I’m struggling till payday, don’t know what I’ll do

It all costs too much for a regular guy

Blues Club

I was wearing my city face

And I didn’t make eye-contact

When people looked my way, I didn’t see

There were too many unfortunate consequences

If you made eye-contact or saw others

I didn’t hate

There were just too many unfortunate consequences

I show love

Not here

Isolation, alienation

Here, and substance abuse, and bombast

But for live music, I wouldn’t be here

But for my solitary home life I wouldn’t be here

But for my sensitive intellect

I might communicate

Some desperate, broken, obnoxious seek community, here

As I did, years ago

She’s not with me tonight

Nor the network stemming from her, from us

Not here, now, but with me, still, even now

The band’s on break and I’m alone

Not in life

Just here

By design

Perpetual Spring

As I age, the world ages with me

As it always has

Things I treasure go out of style

Live music, blues, jazz, the symphony

Peace and love

Mozart went out of style

And nobody knows where he is buried

Who performed for princes, kings, queens

High art, technique, form fail

Churches dwindle, consolidate, close

Zoroaster, Moses, Jesus shrugged off

They follow Zeus, Apollo, Heracles

 

There is no perpetual spring

There follows summer, autumn, winter, and spring again

As I autumn, I can’t see spring again

No, I don’t see spring

I will be leaving this world

And I look toward another

And as my world dies, perhaps it is well that I also with it

I think less of my legacy than I do my potential

In my autumn I see perpetual springtime

The Blues Musician Plays

The blues musician plays out of dejection

Racial rejection

Keeping the beat

The rhythm of the street

The blues musician plays

Making the groove

The dancers move

Another city, a ride in the van

In a world that doesn’t accept the man

The blues musician plays

The dominant race hears

Unconcerned with his bitter, choked tears

And now new beats reject him again

The audiences age and wane

The blues musician plays

A world of rejection, of dejection

The blues musician plays