Tag Archive: Charlie Parker


gibberishly sprechening …

your eyes sketch skies,
silken sandpaper,

your touch,

the smell of your hair,
seducing me,

avalanches of curls,
kisses like tributaries fanning out, eroding the cold hard stone,

in your arms,
in shadows of your form … …

… … I am not whole,
perhaps half and half,

but never am I,
with you … … alone.

interwoven jazz … …

image

time to leave the obfuscation,
euphemisms,
platitudes,

time to shed the detritus of who we once were,
why we once never could be,

strewn amidst the thorns,
jabbing through the turbulent sea,

each wave,

breaking,
crashing,

threaded strings,
foamy universes within foam,

dashing the jagged cliffs,

steep,
daunting,
impregnable,
conceited,

arrogance of invincibility,

the choice of loss,

tracer bullets pockmarking the diseased sky,

splintering egos,
crushing ideals,
held aloft sacrosanct,
wringing ideology,
mere attempts,
feeble at least,

the grandiose fiction of an all en-compassing “explanation of it all”

the unscaleable wall,

where dreams collide,
headlong into concrete apartheid,

headstrong,
belief,
unreason,
faith,

trust,
honesty, love,

lie fractured,
scattered bones strewn here,
there,

and some places foreboding yet alive,
in between,

the transparency of justice,
or,

the prism of competing beliefs,

which leaves this soul, cut,

ripped apart,
torn,
at the seams,

having set sail on the river of hopes,

having soared the blue expanse,
in free flight,

a torch, always,

always, burning, shining bright,

a beacon in the desolate night,

aloft at last,

winged chariots of unfinished dreams.

image

the calm balm of the palm

there are these moments,
often permeating my pores,

the sense of you,
your smile,
your presence,

a soothing balm,

enveloping,
cocooning,
caressing,
infusing,

moments,
with you,

simple,
true,

wrapping me in a warmth of serenity,

soothing shroud,
warm,
wild,

calm,

gently swaying in the breeze,

an intoxicating tropical breeze,

nestled in your arms,
beneath the shade of a palm,

the mirage

just out of view,
hazy,
shades of hope,

love,
peace,

intermingling, racing through tributaries,

invading,
veins of scarlet blood,

streaking down,
cheeks moist with tears,

seeking,
searching,

hither and thither,

as the years amble on,
as the flesh wrinkles …

leaving behind glimpses of soft,
gentle joy,

slowly,
effortlessly, inexorably,

as dreams settle,
floating between laughs,

onto the barren ground,
soon to wither.

talkin’ yakkitty-yak blah blues … …

why do these tears fall like blood,
engulfed in a torrential flood,

when will these pangs take flight,
fleeing open night,

what can we do,
to be true,

to me, and to you …

sprinkled scribbles …

sketched against skin,

softly soothing, dipped in inked nectar, infused with desires unleashed,

to live, to taste the salt of sweat on flesh, to walk in the torrential rain, drenched in perennial desire,

scorching, broiling, slowly inflamed, centuries, months, moments, decades,

the moth to the fire … … …

talkin’ dreamscapey blues ….

slipping through sieves,
time leaves,

scurrying off, slinking away,
so let me hold you close, tight,
tonight,

as dreams crash, plummeting,
spiralling gradually, slowly, agonisingly,
into freefall flight,

blinded by knowing whats right,

holding you close,
holding you tight …

all that jazz

jingoism, fanaticism, empire, & jazz …

… ol’ Satchmo’s gravel-voice reverberates,

‘its a wonderful world’

brother Louis, its been a while since you sang your last song,

and now this world needs some jazz,

past all the cellophane glitz,

and the deadened razzmatazz,

yes we need to jazz it up a bit,

melding notes with voices,

piano keys with a sax,

or that lonesome trumpet,

mixed-up and cantankerous at times,

always alive,
slaves no longer singing the tunes of anachronistic rhymes,

so c’mon,
play the blues,

transcending borders,
smashing narrow jingoism,
shredding religious sermons to tatters,

cos’ when the bombs have fallen,
when countless more are killed,
maimed,

left orphaned,
homeless,

when tanks squash children,
and people are collateral,

when everything around us shatters,

don’t turn away,
never avert ones gaze,

for through the foggy bottomed haze …

all that jazz matters.

image

Artwork by Debra Hurd

http://www.dailypainters.com/paintings/203493/Abstract-Jazz-art-painting-music-by-Debra-Hurd/Debra-Hurd

%d bloggers like this: