Concrete Box

Tags

blues, dreams, entertainment, fantasy, free, imagination, longing, love, music, mystery, universe

 

I work in a corporate, concrete box;
no windows, only a computer terminal
to link me to the outside world.
Only second-hand accounts
of weather, traffic,
whether it is day or night.

I sometimes go to work in darkness,
return in darkness.
I don’t know if the sun
remembered to rise at all.
Like the light in a refrigerator.
Does it really turn off
when I close the door?

At a keyboard, my fingers type numbers,
millions of numbers.
My mind wanders woodland paths.
I watch birds flitting from limb to limb,
chipmunks scurrying, stopping,
looking around, then scurrying again.

My mind plays tricks on me.
I imagine that just 26 floors down
I could exit on Beale or Bourbon Street.
Hear sounds of the South,
guitars, saxophones and raspy voices
that rule the rhythm of my body and soul.

Take me on a blues ride.
Let me wander with the lyrics
down Highway 61, “The Blues Highway”.
Let me smell the sweat and the booze,
the jostling at the bar,
the waitress who will smile for a tip.

Let me smell magnolia, bougainvillea,
where Spanish moss hangs below the branches,
see the darkest eyes and brightest smile,
hear that special whisper, “Come with me.”
We’ll walk for miles, be holding hands,
and never want for any more
than our window to a dream.

…

Sample my books for free — To date, $1945.00 has been donated to the homeless:

Gotta Find a Home: Conversations with Street People
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http://buff.ly/1qLHptc ($.299 Download)
https://buff.ly/2lUfp6Q ($.99 Download)
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They Call Me Red:
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Podcasts:
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Image: http://www.neworleans.com/nightlife/bourbon-heat/

Concrete Box

Tags

blues, dreams, entertainment, fantasy, free, imagination, longing, love, music, mystery, universe

 

I work in a corporate, concrete box;
no windows, only a computer terminal
to link me to the outside world.
Only second-hand accounts
of weather, traffic,
whether it is day or night.

I sometimes go to work in darkness,
return in darkness.
I don’t know if the sun
remembered to rise at all.
Like the light in a refrigerator.
Does it really turn off
when I close the door?

At a keyboard, my fingers type numbers,
millions of numbers.
My mind wanders woodland paths.
I watch birds flitting from limb to limb,
chipmunks scurrying, stopping,
looking around, then scurrying again.

My mind plays tricks on me.
I imagine that just 26 floors down
I could exit on Beale or Bourbon Street.
Hear sounds of the South,
guitars, saxophones and raspy voices
that rule the rhythm of my body and soul.

Take me on a blues ride.
Let me wander with the lyrics
down Highway 61, “The Blues Highway”.
Let me smell the sweat and the booze,
the jostling at the bar,
the waitress who will smile for a tip.

Let me smell magnolia, bougainvillea,
where Spanish moss hangs below the branches,
see the darkest eyes and brightest smile,
hear that special whisper, “Come with me.”
We’ll walk for miles, be holding hands,
and never want for any more
than our window to a dream.

…

Sample  my books for free — proceeds feed the homeless:
Gotta Find a Home: Conversations with Street People
http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS
http://buff.ly/1YlMlPX
http://buff.ly/2rmNL5G
https://buff.ly/2FwfHsb FREE Download
Podcasts: http://buff.ly/1Pxlf9p
http://www.blunttalk.libsyn.com/
http://buff.ly/1XU368M
http://buff.ly/2iW6GxS

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Image: http://www.neworleans.com/nightlife/bourbon-heat/

Robert

Tags

alcoholism, blues, death, despair, dreams, guitar, loneliness, longing, lost love, music

 
An itinerant
entertainer
guitar on his back
ramblin’
from town to town
the devil by his side.
Performing
on street corners
in juke joints
roadhouses
lastly,
on August 13,1938,
at Shaples General Store,
Three Forks,
Mississippi.

Loner
philanderer
loved by the ladies
Robert was poisoned
with strychnine-laced whiskey
by a jealous husband
on the outskirts
of Baptist Town,
Greenwood,
Mississippi.

Buried in an
disputed grave
but, as Robert sang:
Baby, I don’t care
where you bury my body
when I’m dead and gone
You may bury my body, whoooo
Down by the highway side
So my old evil spirit
Can get a Greyhound bus
and ride.

Where
he is buried
isn’t important;
what is important
is the influence he’s had
on musicians
the world over.
Eric Clapton
claims, “he is
the most important blues singer
that ever lived.”
May he forever
rest in peace.

…

Sample  my books for free — proceeds feed the homeless:
Gotta Find a Home: Conversations with Street People
http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS
http://buff.ly/1YlMlPX
http://buff.ly/2rmNL5G
Podcasts: http://buff.ly/1Pxlf9p
http://www.blunttalk.libsyn.com/
http://buff.ly/1XU368M
http://buff.ly/2iW6GxS

Sweet Little Angel

Tags

angel, blues, death, devil, emotion, free, in memoriam, love, lust, music

A tribute to B. B. (Blues Boy) King
Guitarist, Songwriter, Singer (1925–2015)
“King of the Blues”

 

 

Sweet little angel
your devil horns are showing through.
Sweet little angel
your devil horns are showing through.
I love you sweet baby,
all I ever want is you.

Sweet little angel
tell me your love is just for me
Sweet little angel
tell me your love is just for me
you know I need your lovin’
without it where’d I be?

Sweet little angel
spread your honeyed wings for me.
Sweet little angel
spread your honeyed wings for me.
You squeeze me tight baby
you’re the one to set me free

Sweet little angel
your devil horns are showing through.
Sweet little angel
your devil horns are showing through.
I love you sweet baby
don’t you ever leave me blue.

 

…

Buy my books — proceeds feed the homeless:
Gotta Find a Home; Conversations with Street People
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http://buff.ly/1YlMlPX
Podcast: http://buff.ly/1Pxlf9p

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Icarus

Tags

blues, death, despair, emotion, empowerment, fear, free, love, mystery, personal, philosophy

Icarus (Photo credit: Jim Moran)

.

there is a space
between the mind
(that tends to seclude)
and the universe
(all-encompassing)
i travel this space

there is a space
between musical notes
between words
between lines
(very important)

there is a space
between the breathing in
and the breathing out
between the fullness
and the emptiness

between ascending
to the sun with Icarus
and the inevitable
plummeting
to earth

.

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Shadrak

Tags

blues, dance, emotion, fantasy, hot, jealousy, longing, mystery, romance, sexy, sighs

 

Saturday found me at the Shadrak,
a downstairs club that had it all.
A woman took the floor in glad rags.
I felt I was in for a fall.

She spied me lounging in the corner.
My eyes caressed her every move.
She beckoned me over to the dance floor,
sleazy blues had us in the groove.

She was a tall sleek woman with a class act,
slumming and feeling so high.
Knew this was wrong — her legs were so long,
dress was cut up to her thigh.
She had to be a wife or a girlfriend,
no man would let this woman slip by.

Soft fingers stole away my reason,
for her I’d do right or wrong.
Flash of a thigh, wink of an eye,
she played that dress just like a song.
Maybe her lips, or the sway of her hips,
she had my number all along.

The scene couldn’t have been sweeter,
‘till Johnny sauntered through that door.
Cursed us a while, said we were vile,
reputations trampled on the floor.
Should have walked away, that isn’t my way,
his accusations cut to my core.

No backing down for right or for wrong,
for her I had to settle the score.
Glint of a knife, the end of a life,
Johnny lay dying on the floor.

Built to tantalize, she knew she was a prize;
she was a tall sleek woman with a class act,
slumming and feeling so high.
Knew this was wrong — her legs were so long,
I couldn’t let this woman slip by.
I wouldn’t let this woman slip by.

 
 
 
The Hollies: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SwO0lNfc_h8
Image: http://ow.ly/TwlRS

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Concrete Box

Tags

blues, dreams, entertainment, fantasy, free, imagination, longing, love, music, mystery, universe

 

I work in a corporate, concrete box;
no windows, only a computer terminal
to link me to the outside world.
Only second-hand accounts
of weather, traffic,
whether it is day or night.

I sometimes go to work in darkness,
return in darkness.
I don’t know if the sun
remembered to rise at all.
Like the light in a refrigerator.
Does it really turn off
when I close the door?

At a keyboard, my fingers type numbers,
millions of numbers.
My mind wanders woodland paths.
I watch birds flitting from limb to limb,
chipmunks scurrying, stopping,
looking around, then scurrying again.

My mind plays tricks on me.
I imagine that just 26 floors down
I could exit on Beale or Bourbon Street.
Hear sounds of the South,
guitars, saxophones and raspy voices
that rule the rhythm of my body and soul.

Take me on a blues ride.
Let me wander with the lyrics
down Highway 61, “The Blues Highway”.
Let me smell the sweat and the booze,
the jostling at the bar,
the waitress who will smile for a tip.

Let me smell magnolia, bougainvillea,
where Spanish moss hangs below the branches,
see the darkest eyes and brightest smile,
hear that special whisper, “Come with me.”
We’ll walk for miles, be holding hands,
and never want for any more
than our window to a dream.

 
 
 
Image: http://www.neworleans.com/nightlife/bourbon-heat/

Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

 

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Gypsy Woman

Tags

blues, destiny, emotion, eternal, forever, free, loneliness, longing, love, mystery, romance

 
Rode into town about a week ago,
Won’t be long before I’ve got to go.
Thoughts of staying playing in my mind;
But, Gypsy Lady I’m the restless kind.

Gypsy Woman ride along with me.
The open road ahead won’t let me be.
The engine’s serenade will set us free.
Gypsy Woman hear the symphony.

I feel your body pressing close to me;
We’re riding fast, we’re feeling wild and free.
Gypsy wind is blowing through our hair.
When I’m with you my life’s without a care.

Gypsy leathers never looked so fine.
I think about you, Lady, all the time.
Don’t want to beg, don’t want to lose my pride.
You haunt my dreams, I need you by my side.

Gypsy Lady let me hold you tight.
Don’t leave me cold and lonely through the night.
Your flashing eyes see inside my heart.
Gypsy Woman say we’ll never part.

Gypsy Lady ride along with me.
The open road ahead won’t let me be.
The engine’s serenade will set us free.
Gypsy Woman ride along with me.

 
 

Image:  http://ow.ly/QTZ4a

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Sweet Little Angel

Tags

blues, death, in mrmoriam, king of the blues, longing, love, music, romance, sighs, spiritual

A tribute to B. B. (Blues Boy) King
Guitarist, Songwriter, Singer (1925–2015)
“King of the Blues”

 

 

Sweet little angel
your devil horns are showing through.
Sweet little angel
your devil horns are showing through.
I love you sweet baby,
all I ever want is you.

Sweet little angel
tell me your love is just for me
Sweet little angel
tell me your love is just for me
you know I need your lovin’
without it where’d I be?

Sweet little angel
spread your honeyed wings for me.
Sweet little angel
spread your honeyed wings for me.
You hold me tight baby
you’re the one to set me free

Sweet little angel
your devil horns are showing through.
Sweet little angel
your devil horns are showing through.
I love you sweet baby
don’t you ever leave me blue.

 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 

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Soon It Will Be Dark

Tags

blues, death, despair, desperation, emotion, loneliness, longing, lost love, mystery, nature, personal

.

.

i walked this path
when love was young
and buds about to spring —
colors bright, breezes soft
no want for anything.

there was a time
for boundless hope
and dreams of evermore.
now i wander aimlessly
my joints are getting sore.

where went this youth
these dreams and songs
that winged on words of love?
left with geese flocking south
chorus sounds above.

now the trail is sodden
with limp and trodden leaves;
gone the color and the spark.
trees and i are getting old
soon it will be dark.

.

Midnight Blues

Tags

battle, blues, cinema, compassion, despair, desperation, destination, destiny, dreams, emotion, empathy, empowerment, eternal, fantasy, fear, forever, free, imagination, lifetimes, loneliness, longing, love, loving kindness, mankind, mystery, nature, nightmares, personal, philosophy, purpose, reality, self esteem, sighs, soul, spirits, spiritual, trance, unconditional love, universe, world

Down and Out Blues (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

.

I walk the empty rain-soaked streets.
Footsteps echo against brick walls
as formidable as a prison.
There is no escape from loneliness
that devours the soul from within;
an endless cinema of despair.

Locked within this kaleidoscope;
distorted images from my past
haunt my dreams and nightmares.
There is no room for reality.
Players in my mind pull the strings,
dance this mournful marionette.

I follow the cooling evening breeze
with no purpose or destination.
My feet lead me forward in a trance.
I try to empty my mind of thoughts,
the destroyers of my self-esteem —
momentarily held at bay held at bay.

Life is a never-ending battle,
one foot in front of the other,
seconds follow tedious seconds,
breaths counted entering and leaving,
heart beats it’s pounding rhythm
walking these, empty rain-soaked blues.

.

Street Justice

Tags

blues, compassion, death, desperation, destiny, emotion, empathy, eternal, fear, forever, homeless, kindness, lifetimes, loss, love, loving kindness, mankind, motorcycle gangs, personal, support, unconditional love

I sit, in sadness,
holding hands with an injured friend;
her ribs broken and fractured,
her breathing painful and difficult,
her head aching and dizzy,
her face bruised
and scraped.

Another friend
is absent, in hiding; yet
he has no sanctuary,
there is no place he won’t be found.

At last, he had his life
in some semblance of order.
Two months sober;
he had an apartment, furniture;
his pride and self-worth had returned.
Then, he spent his rent check on booze —
starting with triple tequila shots
at a biker bar.
The universe
had given him a fresh start —
he threw it away.

Street justice will prevail;
sentence has been passed:
a bruise for a bruise,
a broken bone for a broken bone,
and something extra
so it won’t happen again.
Punishment will be exacted
with ruthless,
emotionless
efficiency.

.

Blues Man

Tags

blues, despair, dreams, emotion, empathy, guitar strings, loneliness, longing, lost love, mojo, mystery, personal, philosophy, sighs, slide guitar

Steel slides seducing strings
blues man plucks and picks.
Winding down, my mood descends —
craving a few more licks.

Your melodies transport me.
Rasping voice tears my pain.
Feel you deep inside my gut —
Just play it once again.

Blues man with your mojo hand,
Spirit of the Voodoo Chile,
Enchant and entrance me —
Suspend me here a while.

I weep with your sadness.
My heart strains with your grief.
Your blood, sweat, tears and soul —
revelation of belief.

Mystic, mojo master
You read my troubled mind.
Notes create a picture
to which I had been blind.

 

.

Whisper and Moan

Tags

alone, blues, dark, death, desolation, desperation, evil, guitar, haunted, hobo, loneliness, tortured, whiskey

Troubled blues with feeling
may ease my tortured mind;
free me from the clutches
of those I left behind.

These dirty hobo rags
hang on a wasted frame,
haunted by the memory
and rhythm of your name.

Walking through this alley
shrouded, dark with death.
Evil deeds will haunt me,
until my final breath.

Craving me some whisky,
a friendly word and smile.
You can spend my money,
just stay a little while.

Whisky clouds my thinking.
Your face is just a blur……
Few more drinks together
I may think you are her.

Guitar strings, whining steel,
a whisper and a moan.
Use me and abuse me;
don’t leave me here alone.

 

 

.