Music Challenge

[Angeline]

Land!!!!

Sunny side of the street (reprise) LMAO
I havn't forgotten A

You sick lil tiggerrrrr! lmao. *This* is it????

Well I just want to state for the record that when you asked for my suggestion I said use Sunny Side of the Street because you and Beth are engaged and I'm happy for you, so write a happy poem.

Beth? You see this? You're really gonna marry this guy, huh? lol

And the worst part is I now have to write the Literotica gilligan's island poem. N, You are an evil man. You know that poem I said was about my cousin? It was really about you.

 

[_Land]

Re: Land!!!!

You sick lil tiggerrrrr! lmao. *This* is it????

Well I just want to state for the record that when you asked for my suggestion I said use Sunny Side of the Street because you and Beth are engaged and I'm happy for you, so write a happy poem.

Beth? You see this? You're really gonna marry this guy, huh? lol

And the worst part is I now have to write the Literotica gilligan's island poem. N, You are an evil man. You know that poem I said was about my cousin? It was really about you.

For the record I am working on another version, this one just couldnt be delayed, I had to get rid of it....... it was all I could hear as I was trying to write the other one........ so Ginger write up........ )

 

[eagleyez]

Beck makes me wish I was back in LA for a night


LAX cab drops me in the morning....


I've seen the end of the day come too soon
Not a lot to say, not a lot to do
You played the game, you owe nothing to yourself
Rest a day, for tomorrow you can't tell
You can't tell

I've seen the end of the day come too late
Seen the love you had turning into hate
Had to act like I didn't even care
But I did so I got stranded standing there
Standing there

It's nothing that I haven't seen before
But it still kills me like it did before
No it's nothing that I haven't seen before
But it still kills me like it did before

I've seen the end of the day come too soon
Like the prison dogs they set out after you
You owe nothing to the past but wasted time
To serve a sentence that was only in your mind
In your mind

It's nothing that I haven't seen before
But it still kills me like it did before
No it's nothing that I haven't seen before
But it still kills me like it did before

 

[Angeline]

La Luna Adagio

was inspired by listening to Joaquín Rodrigo's Concierto de Aranjuez whilst thinking about autumn. Here is the illustrated version.

 

[eagleyez]

I like that picture-

nice...

 

[Angeline]

I like that picture-

nice...

Thank you! For once I was able to compress the file to lit-acceptable size without losing quality. The Photoshop gods smiled, lol.

A.

 

[beths-virtue]

well , angeline, that remains to be seen

just cause an offer is on the table doesnt mean its going to get snagged up
you know, if theres a higher bidder, the auction isnt final lol

yeah , i saw the poem , but i also saw what he went through trying to find a copy of the darn song

even on my birthday he sneaked off from me and left me alone to listen to tracks of the song at barnes and noble, hows that for dedicated to you !


i dont know, i just know i couldnt have done it , i have never been good with assignments .... forced poetry from me , comes out sounding just like that , forced

hugs

 

[Angeline]

well , angeline, that remains to be seen

well he does seem to love you a lot, girlfriend and welcome back hugs.


and _Land? what the hell? on her birthday? c'mere and lemme smack you...oh wait. you like being smacked by poet girls. go on beth--slap him for the poetesses.


and you know, you could have emailed me. i'd have, hmmm, well i couldn't send you a file of lester young playing it cause *that's* not allowed. i could have recorded myself singing it! lol. that would scare the bejeebers outta you.

 

[_Land]

LOL, Angeline I wasnt sure which version you were refering to so I listened to several and just stuck with Louis'

I was just trying to get in to the mood of the hooking side of the street. ) HAHAHAHAHA

 

[Angeline]

_Land, I have heard that song at least 1,000 times, and until you submitted this poem, never interpreted it this way. And what the hell is the "hooker side of the street" anyway? It sounds like a bike lane. Lol, you're a piece of work.

Do I have to beg your girlfriend to swat you again?

 

[eagleyez]

Well it's Ninth and Hennepin
All the doughnuts have names that sound like prostitutes
And the moon's teeth marks are on the sky
Like a tarp thrown all over this
And the broken umbrellas like dead birds
And the steam comes out of the grill
Like the whole goddamn town's ready to blow...
And the bricks are all scarred with jailhouse tattoos
And everyone is behaving like dogs
And the horses are coming down Violin Road
And Dutch is dead on his feet
And all the rooms they smell like diesel
And you take on the dreams of the ones who have slept here
And I'm lost in the window, and I hide in the stairway
And I hang in the curtain, and I sleep in your hat...
And no one brings anything small into a bar around here
They all started out with bad directions
And the girl behind the counter has a tattooed tear
One for every year he's away, she said
Such a crumbling beauty, ah
There's nothing wrong with her that a hundred dollars won't fix
She has that razor sadness that only gets worse
With the clang and the thunder of the Southern Pacific going by
And the clock ticks out like a dripping faucet
til you're full of rag water and bitters and blue ruin
And you spill out over the side to anyone who will listen...
And I've seen it all, I've seen it all
Through the yellow windows of the evening train...

 

[Angeline]

Blue by Joni Mitchell

Blue

Yesterday your birthday,
or it would have been.

Soon I'll be the only one
who's left.

Who else will know
about the dogwood tree,
or how to catch a minnow
in a jar?

Who else will know
mile-a-minute cake,
and why that makes me laugh,
or how I got the scar?

I get so tired saying
everything is fine,
and you're a star,
and you would like them,
even love them,
were you here.

(If you're there,
maybe you do.)

The hardest part
is when I can't
remember
how you looked,

although I know
your eyes were blue.

 

[eagleyez]

Thats a great song and record-

Listened to some early Joni on vinyl the other nite-

her phrasing and sound is so unto her alone.

shes invented tunings that no ones ever figured out-

 

[Angeline]

Thats a great song and record-

Listened to some early Joni on vinyl the other nite-

her phrasing and sound is so unto her alone.

shes invented tunings that no ones ever figured out-

It sure is. It's one of my all-time favorite records, which probably shows given that I have two poems based on songs from it here already. Everything on it is wonderful.

I love The Hissing of Summer Lawns and Hejira, too. I could get into doing poems from some of the songs on those.

 

[eagleyez]

funny

those are the two we listened to-

Jaco on fretless bass-

mmm indeed

 

[Angeline]

funny

those are the two we listened to-

Jaco on fretless bass-

I'm listening to Coyote now. If I have to drop everything and write about it, it's your fault.

 

[eagleyez]

i take full responsibility



No regrets Coyote
We just come from such different sets of circumstance
I'm up all night in the studios
And you're up early on your ranch
You'll be brushing out a brood mare's tail
While the sun is ascending
And I'll just be getting home with my reel to reel...
There's no comprehending
Just how close to the bone and the skin and the eyes
And the lips you can get
And still feel so alone
And still feel related
Like stations in some relay
You're not a hit and run driver, no, no
Racing away
You just picked up a hitcher
A prisoner of the white lines on the freeway

We saw a farmhouse burning down
In the middle of nowhere
In the middle of the night
And we rolled right past that tragedy
Till we turned into some road house lights
Where a local band was playing
Locals were up kicking and shaking on the floor
And the next thing I know
That Coyote's at my door
He pins me in a corner and he won't take "No!"
He drags me out on the dance floor
And we're dancing close and slow
Now he's got a woman at home
He's got another woman down the hall
He seems to want me anyway
Why'd you have to get so drunk
And lead me on that way
You just picked up a hitcher
A prisoner of the white lines of the freeway

I looked a Coyote right in the face
On the road to Baljennie near my old home town
He went running thru the whisker wheat
Chasing some prize down
And a hawk was playing with him
Coyote was jumping straight up and making passes
He had those same eyes - just like yours
Under your dark glasses
Privately probing the public rooms
And peeking thru keyholes in numbered doors
Where the players lick their wounds
And take their temporary lovers
And their pills and powders to get them thru this passion play

No regrets, Coyote
I just get off up aways
You just picked up a hitcher
A prisoner of the white lines on the freeway

Coyote's in the coffee shop
He's staring a hole in his scrambled eggs
He picks up my scent on his fingers
While he's watching the waitresses' legs
He's too fat from the Bay of Fundy
From Appaloosas and Eagles and tides
And the air conditioned cubicles
And the carbon ribbon rides
Are spelling it out so clear
Either he's going to have to stand and fight
Or take off out of here
I tried to run away myself
To run away and wrestle with my ego
And with this flame
You put here in this Eskimo
In this hitcher
In this prisoner
Of the fine white lines
Of the white lines on the free, free way

 

[Angeline]

Another Absolute Original

Once and Now Again
(for Laura Nyro)

Emily, you're the natural snow,
the unstudied sea, you're a cameo.
And I swear you were born a weavers lover,
born for the loom's desire.
Move me, oh sway me.
Emily, you ornament the earth for me.
~ Laura Nyro

At 8 a.m.
on positively 4th street
neighbors own the square

old woman with suspicious eyes
two unwary dogs go by
two men argue jabbing air
and grimace at the snow
that covers benches
how can they play chess
now where ever will they go

across the street
a couple moves as one
wool coats pressed
at arm and hip
heads bent alike
and hair the same
I could be seeing double
but they laugh
they separate
her moving south
toward NYU perhaps
and him who knows

Then I see her
Laura walks on by
the once and future
teenage empress
New York Tendaberry
hip proud queen
my tribe my urban blues
my waif her tweed cap
and her hair all tumbledown
her timer soul and liquid eyes
my songbird in the square

who glides along the snow
as beautiful and rare
as a black swan
in careless stroll
and trailing scarf
her breath
the streaming air

it seemed unreal
in New York City then
a stage a set a photograph
in black and white
another time
in Laura walking by
in soft unstudied grace

once and now again
the natural snow again
the emblematic cameo
the weaver’s lover
born for loom’s desire
lives like Bird not gone
not blowed and gone alive
a phoenix rising in a voice
of caramel of buy and sell
and winter city blues
again alive like flames
in December’s boudoir.

 

[eagleyez]

They're selling postcards of the hanging, they're painting
the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors, the circus is in
town
Here comes the blind commissioner, they've got him in a
trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker, the other is in
his pants
And the riot squad they're restless, they need somewhere to
go
As Lady and I look out tonight, from Desolation Row

Cinderella, she seems so easy, "It takes one to know one,"
she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets Bette Davis style
And in comes Romeo, he's moaning. "You Belong to Me I
Believe"
And someone says, "You're in the wrong place, my friend, you
Better leave"
And the only sound that's left after the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up on Desolation Row

Now the moon is almost hidden, the stars are beginning to
hide
The fortune telling lady has even taken all her things
inside
All except for Cain and Abel and the hunchback of Notre Dame

Everybody is making love or else expecting rain
And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing, he's getting ready
for the show
He's going to the carnival tonight on Desolation Row

Now Ophelia, she's 'neath the window for her I feel so
afraid
On her twenty-second birthday she already is an old maid
To her, death is quite romantic she wears an iron vest
Her profession's her religion, her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon Noah's great rainbow
She spends her time peeking into Desolation Row

Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood with his memories in a
trunk
Passed this way an hour ago with his friend, a jealous monk
He looked so immaculately frightful as he bummed a cigarette

As he when off sniffing drainpipes and reciting the alphabet

Now you would not think to look at him, but he was famous
long ago
For playing the electric violin on Desolation Row

Dr. Filth, he keeps his world inside of a leather cup
But all his sexless patients, they're trying to blow it up
Now his nurse, some local loser, she's in charge of the
cyanide hole
And she also keeps the cards that read, "Have Mercy on His
Soul"
They all play on the penny whistles, you can hear them blow
If you lean your head out far enough from Desolation Row

Across the street they've nailed the curtains, they're
getting ready for the feast
The Phantom of the Opera a perfect image of a priest
They're spoon feeding Casanova to get him to feel more
assured
Then they'll kill him with self-confidence after poisoning
him with words
And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls, "Get Outa Here
If You Don't Know
Casanova is just being punished for going to Desolation Row"

Now at midnight all the agents and the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone that knows more than they do
Then they bring them to the factory where the heart-attack
machine
Is strapped across their shoulders and then the kerosene
Is brought down from the castles by insurance men who go
Check to see that nobody is escaping to Desolation Row

Praise be to Nero's Neptune the Titanic sails at dawn
And everybody's shouting, "Which Side Are You On?"
And Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot fighting in the captain's
tower
While calypso singers laugh at them and fishermen hold
flowers
Between the windows of the sea where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much about Desolation row

Yes, I received your letter yesterday (About the time the
doorknob broke)
When you asked me how I was doing, was that some kind of
joke
All these people that you mention, yes, I know them, they're
quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces and give them all another
name
Right now, I can't read too good, don't send me no more
letters no
Not unless you mail them from Desolation Row

 

[Angeline]

Bach, Gavota (from Suite for Violin Solo)

segovia

if life stepped on catlike feet
graceful and this unaware
moved through its days
as these notes do in air

the master's fingers dance
o'er strings or lifting, tapping
pace the frets and body hunches
over polished wood and lets

it join the player as night
is shining with the mirth
of these vibrations shook
with understaning so sublime

marrying the chilly notes
to warmth that's mulled
like wine but clever, fey
to think that little man

transcribed all this so simply
I saw him play at 80 years
to my 14 at Alice Tully Hall
he looked so small so stubby

plucking heat to Bach's chill notes
a lovely paradox a sound
that floats delighting coldest heart

 

[denis hale]

Jeff Beck

Hey!

Well, no way does this do justice to the song in question:

"Cause We've Ended As Lovers", by Jeff Beck, off the album
Blow By Blow.

But what the f***. Here goes.


Call And Response (c) 2003 D. Hale

Raw,

raw deal, when you cast
your bread upon the waters

and it comes back bitter
oatmeal on morning surf froth

seeping
into the sandy digs of clams
like salt on an open wound.

You
were the bottle
baby

and me
a cryptic litmus scrap
of longing and gratitude
slipped deep
deep inside--

my heart a sickly sweet
fortune cookie now
cracked at the curlicued
fault line...

If this washes up somewhere
put the longneck
to your ear and listen:

it will sound something like
a conch shell
whistling preludes
to a killer tornado

or the squeals of an arctic fox
with its foot caught in a steel trap

or just a classic, caustic
blues guitar riff
in cut time...

but however you make it out
the pain in there

is my permanent address

and it will lead you
back to me

eventually...

Follow it baby.
follow it

if you dare.

 

[Angeline]

If this washes up somewhere
put the longneck
to your ear and listen:

it will sound something like
a conch shell
whistling preludes
to a killer tornado

or the squeals of an arctic fox
with its foot caught in a steel trap

Well I think it's wonderful, but then I like your poems when they whisper.

And thank you everyone for continuing to make this a gloriously cacophonous thread!

Keep em coming! Play, experiment...sometimes I think music and poetry are about the same thing.

 

[Angeline]

Abstraction in Progress

Pictures at an Exhibition, Modest Mussorgsky

Semantic Blues

I don’t know.
Their photos are worrisome.
OK some smile,
still a patch here, a button-down there,
bright quirky eyes
ready to straight on,
to punch you a line of somebody’s truth,

maybe.

But most carry weary-blued stares,
unadorned by anything but dogma,
woven thick on looms of tradition
because the weight of standard-bearing
is heavy as lead.

No young Mercuries carry the torch ,
scanning lines poet to poet
across generations,
across genres,
transforming roaches to butterflies
or bathing sonnets in street dust,
words uniambed
and crawling across pages like beetles.

Look you!
These new prometheans struggle.
They carry tombs of academia,
set the avant of a garde against geometry,
singing cacophonous skeins of formless form
that lies so deep unstructured
as to be transformed to babel.

Cause I asked Langston
and Elizabeth, is this ok?
Does it make sense to you?
After all, Ornette is just another language,
another code to crack.
After all, maybe I like to play Sisyphus,
rolling arguments uphill,
only to come tumbling after them,
metaphors caught in my hair like so much straw.
Maybe I'm a hayseed of a poet,
a country cousin.
Maybe the brilliance of abstraction crashes
against the dim simplicity of my wit.

 

[Angeline]

poem aborning here
somewhere
near

 

[eagleyez]

switchin it over to AM
searchin for a truer sound
cant recall the call letters
steel guitar and settle down

catchin an all nite station
somewhere in Louisiana
sounds like 1963
but for now
it sounds like
heaven to me.

tryin to make it far enough
to the next time zone
few and far between
past the midnight hour.