Thursday, October 25, 2007

'as jazz died in the park?

Yesterday jazz in the park made a huge jump,
right before it was hushed up.

Saw a drummer, snare, hi-hat, crash, bass,
Two soloists, trumpet and saxophone.

It was cold as hell, I sat on a concrete lip,
I was wearing none but a hoodie and a thin one at that.

Those guys played pretty damn good,
the trumpeter was young and he ripped up the drummer's beat.

Then he stepped back after several minutes, great solo,
the old saxophone guy had just finished polishing his sax.

He started playing, the drummer was going mad,
he tried to keep up and the callous might think, he's too old. Too bad.

But all of a sudden the drummer played four beats really quiet,
taps, and the sax died down barely blowing, at the end of the beats,

Explosion of genius, the drummer makes it all over again,
the old timer ripped a solo right through the heart of that song.

The young trumpeter was standing back watching,
he played well but he just learned a hard, hard lesson.

Then the park security came and said you're playing too loud,
Shit. Is jazz in the park dead? The village is experiencing a new jazz movement.

I don't know, I stopped by the park today and only saw a hippie,
strumming his guitar, a few around him, but he was all alone.a

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Anticlimactic Iron and Wine look-a-like guy.

There was smoke or steam coming out of the roof,
the sun was setting and the weather was stereotypically fallish.

At first some classical wannabe guitarist was playing,
hooked up to an amp, it was impossible to ignore him.

I was reading a crappy book stuck between two crappy bands,
A jazz quartet that lost the beat and lost the plot.

I wish the jazz combo would come back,
but I guess they've moved on along down the hall.

After the guitarist left another guitarist came along,
he wasn't plugged in, at least he could be ignored.

He started singing, loud, "Clowns to the left of me..."
nervous, strumming nervously, loud timbre to his voice though.

He looked like the guy from Iron and Wine,
he sang that one song: "Who will sa-ave your soul?"

Then with a tint of irony that made the windows black,
"... Hit me baby one more time!"

Well, it wasn't so bad, he gave the song some credit,
but after only thirty minutes, he started the playlist over.

The same songs, except he didn't sing 'Purple Rain' twice,
what a damn shame, what a damnable shame.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

This Friggin' Cat That I Live With

Yesterday it rained 'til my levee broke,
went to the laundromat and didn't even smoke.

I'm living with a crazy goddamn feline,
it sleeps all day and tries to keep me up all night.

I think it's deranged because it stands guard over a dip in the floor,
and sometimes it gets the urge to do laps at three in the morning or four.

I'll wake up in shock and whisper/shout "Cat!",
and throw my flip-flop, if I was Dr. Dre it would be a ratatatat.

I won't let him sleep so he'll have to wait until later,
when I leave, but watch, tonight he'll spend an hour on top of the radiator.

Like I said he runs laps around my apartment, I've seen the track*,
Tonight I'll put a new obstacle up, it'll be my hand showing him what the five fingers said to the face. Slap!

* He starts in the middle of the room, then runs behind the couch, leaps on top of it from the floor, then under my bed, knocks over a plant, around my bed, sharpens his claws on the foot of the bed and my feet, and back to a crouched position near the dip in the floor.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Today I didn't even have to use an AK...

I couldn't believe that today was a good day,
Went to Gizzi's and drank a Red Eye.

Walked around today shaven and saved,
went to a thrift shop looked at the sunglasses selection.

Ha ha, the village is in a post-wayfarers slump,
glad I bought mine a year before all of you did.

Went to the park, don't go to the fountain so much anymore,
listened to a free jazz combo, editing my first book.

Saw the police and they almost crashed into each other,
riding bikes and profiling black folks gathering.

The Jazzbeats backing them up, ah,
saxophone man took that smoky note and held it.

The drummer switched it up today,
playing with a brush and a mallet at the same time.

Dropped a dollar, not much,
but everyone is poor in the new millennium.

Went to the hot dog stand on corner of 5th ave and Wash. Sq. North,
places all over the place, eighth street is a treasure chest.

Know what Jack White meant,
can't keep up with hipsters, better to be a country star.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Everything seems so close when you walk

It's been a while since I've seen that voodoo man,
Also been a while since I went to that Sushi Stand

But the violin boy had accompaniment playing accordion,
I liked it better when it was just him.

White boy funk band with a saxophone in Wash. Sq. Park
C-SPAN on the TV fighting about the war.

I was sitting on the fire escape,
New York has the biggest squirrels I've ever seen.

There was someone picking a Sitar in the park,
When I say picking, I mean it was like a cosmic banjo.

Walked up what was positively fourth street yesterday,
Wore a white jacket, just going to the grocery store.

Direct from Madison Square Garden the poster said,
I'm going there today to buy a bus ticket.

25 hours to get back to Huntsville,
and that's if I'm lucky.

Times Sq. Union Sq. Walking distance,
Just pull a Eustace Conway and walk home.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

A Mural Appears, Late

It's been two or three days since I saw that voodoo man
performing a hex on a sushi stand.

Was sitting in Wash. Sq. Park, guy with a limp going by
A violin boy was providing a soundtrack, not many tipped.

Went to Thompkins Sq. Park where? East Village
Walked there from the West Village, down 3rd, 4th, 10th streets.

When I left Thompkins I saw a Joe Strummer mural,
snapped a picture, now I shuffled and it went to "Lover's Rock"

People in the park always offering you a bag of grass,
it's really oregano most the time, you can find better connections

Really enjoy the Village, Kerouac years spent here,
been to Hemingway years spent here, gotta keep moving.

Walked everywhere since I got off that bus,
except the taxi ride from the bus station. Cost: Ten Dollars

Temp is 57 degrees, that's Farenheit.
Poetry finally coming together to form a picture.

Not stricken with paranoia nor hustle,
just gelling with the city, feeling it out.

Many people with white wires going into their ears, walking around,
not looking around, probably trying to drown out the sirens.

My friend said TV on the Radio sounds like traffic noises,
I don't think so really, but I do hear "city" jazz on the rooftop

I think I just may walk to Penn station when I leave, at end of Oct. '07
William Penn it was named after, naw shit, so was Pennsylvania

Ah, no spell check, just my cold hands, no gloves,
Lost ten pounds since I got here. I was 160, push ups every day.

One day I may write about this period, maybe not,
Only if I'm broke, or inspired, that will be happy.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Cops feel weird hearing rappers say "I run this city!".

Yesterday I saw a voodoo man
performing a hex on a sushi stand

There's always a woman tells me good morning,
on the stairs. When it's afternoon.

Bought a The New Yorker at a Barnes Ignobles
and every time I look at their magazine selection "I say Blugh."

(The cashiers can sense it too
Weird to be a writer away from your home, you know?)

The man on the street knows what you want
if you want a music magazine, Rolling Stone or Mojo?

He's got Snapple Lemonade and Payday candy bars
My eyes are red and a sniper has me in his sights.

Whatever you say is wrong, whatever I say is right.
Right? Wrong it's a bit of nomenclature. Write!

Monday, October 8, 2007

Telegraph From American University, Overdue

been on a greyhound bus for 20 hours stop gotta pull up the bootstraps and buckle the fuck down, no mucking about on the near or far shores that can't exist as far as my imagination will conceive.

my imagination has as of right now dried up into a stimpy sized pea, shriveled in the goddamn sun lie grape don't move til you're a raison cane wit booby traps, our traps can't be bothered with punctuation.

I'm late lazy stoned out of all mind and feeling gonna mull around numb as hell gotta catch the fall somewhere i may as well land where i can think softly and carry a big ol fat stick.

I was born a thousand times before i realized what the fuck was going on like what the hell is all this fluid and when it had a name i still didn't recognize and birth said you better recognize fool.

so i did and wished it was a binge on a subway hell a binge on hell and i've had enough fire and brimstone to be bothered with real life better flip that I'll I say I'll get on a case of real life taking durgs

aND YES yall i meant to not stop til when the break of dawn and not write again until the end of the day all day every day yes yes Yall ya don't stop with the body rock b-boys throwin down.

what i meant to say was i will write durgs instead of durgs whenever the mood hits me back and aa holly! that's a holla for the unintended uninitiated smack of dawn crack head leaned back.

eyesroll don't slap the biscuit from the hand that fed you, feed yourself and i'll clap like i'm a supposed to left the let down in a down trodden camp of okies longing for the nature of the hoovervilles.

if this was something else i'd say say goddamn to heavenly goddamn hellerific fantasmically oceanic universitality of the string theory and really i'd prefer the low end theory but when push come shove...

midnight marauder s by a tribe called quest that song steve bilko don't stop with the repeat on/repeat off this will never be put into a form that can be published and i'm fine with that stop.