Music Challenge

[Angeline]

Does music move you to poetry? Most of my ideas for poems start while I'm listening, and many of them are based on a specific piece of music.

Here's a challenge:

Listen to a song or other piece of music that moves you. What do the sounds say to you? What story is in there? See if you can find words that convey the sound. Write and post your poem here. Oh and be sure to say what piece of music you're using. (I think it would be cool to listen while I read your poem--if I can--and try to hear what you heard.)

Here's mine--

Song: Goodbye Porkpie Hat, Charles Mingus

This cat on crepe soul shoes
creeps down 52nd Street,
which shines slickery spots
red green rain red green
between blurs of rolling yellow
and buzzy neon blinks.
3 Deuces, Famous Door,
flathat clinging to walls.
Old Prez tries to hold on,
but everything is changing.

Birdland flew to Bopland,
flew blowed, almost gone.
Once Prez paved the road,
now the kiddies run ahead,
leaving him in swingbop limbo,
almost dead, but man
like you always said--

You got to be original.

You got to have big eyes
to drink up so much emptiness
and build a bridge of pain
across the blues,
fret for hours in a dingy room,
just you and music in gloom
that fogs the window quiet,
just you, watching Birdland blink.

Old news.
Nothing left but Hennessey,
the echo of a tone and dues.
Birdland flew the world away,
today turned into yesterday,
but now like then only you.
Ah um.

 

[denis hale]

Angeline,

What a great thread starter you are!

I wouldn't miss this for the world.

Since I'm more of a rock n roll type scrivener, this comes from Led Zeppelin, off the album, Presence.


NOBODY'S FAULT (c) 2003 Denis Hale

Angry red petechial blotches
on bulging eyeballs with lids leaking
and fibrillating like a fucked up sprinkler head...

Bleeding gums and toothpaste foam making
microcosmic Jackson Pollack clusters
of red rubber song balls
all over the hotel bathroom mirror
as if transcribing in realtime

the Jimmy Page guitar solo
spitting from the little
transistor radio

on top of the toilet tank.

By the time the tremors recede enough
to trip the switches on the overhead fan and
Remington Microscreen razor

there is just enough white noise lather
worked up in there to drown the sound
of the boy bouncing the basketball
back and forth
in the alley

for no good goddamn reason,

and the maid
running her Super Suction
Oreck 8 industrial vacuum
right outside
his door.

There is a cough going off
in his head now the voice
of his real self
clearing its throat
in preparation of making

a delicate point

that never gets heard
above the din of what
he has to say to get
the deletrium tremen day
underway:

"Certainly, there will be
a rally in the bond market by
noon I'll be at thirty thousand feet
and the flight attendant
will look like a young Lauren Hutton
who makes my cock rock hard
just flashing that precious
gap tooth grin..."

In his mind's eye sits
a silver tray with a tumbler
of ice-cold tomato juice peppered
with Spanish Fly
and three miniatures
of Beefeater's Gin sweating
and standing by
still unopened.

Until then
there is the shaking
in his hands,

more bile tossed into the toilet
and Robert Plant boxing his ears
with the tinny,
nearly-unintelligible refrain

rising in pitch-waves to meet
the wail of the vacuum

that bitch will simply
not stop running
in the hallway.



ps this was fun. Jeff Beck is next!

 

[perks]

I'm just in awe with the way you see, think, use our fucking language.

impressive.

I'm so completely jealous of your gift.

 

[perks]

my turn

he reminds me of my childhood
I reach out to his notes
trying to grasp my father
my blood
love
whatever the fuck you want to call it

I never find him
but I find this music
these notes, this balance
of sadness- euphoria

you can get lost in him
in his life story written in the notes
but I find me
I breathe loss

It's never highland falls
or summer
but it's always billy
who reaches me

 

[Angeline]

Rock and Roll?

I like rock and roll. Let me just set down this halo for a moment.

River Deep, Mountain High, Ike and Tina Turner

Those legs are sharp
as furious gold knives,
pumping the stage
in devilheel storms,
flashing in waves,
and crashing the walls
of sound up and down
in sloopy loop de loop
carnival rides.

No river too deep!
No mountain too high
for backbeat-bashed rhythm
that spins round and round.

Oh baby baby baby
watch that hair fly.

Then Tina bends over
to let you see her
shake a tailfeather
in a hip-to-hip shift
of self-assurred grin
that's framed by a dance
of fringe-whipping spin.

Lord you know that is one
strong woman who shows
the world how to rattle
in rolls of rock-quaking
sublime raw throaty cry--

Do I love you?
My oh my!

 

[OT]

standing O

... for all of the above.

 

[Angeline]

Merci, O.T. And I feared I'd embarrass myself with that last one.

 

[Angeline]

Over the Rainbow, Jane Monheit

Wished and wished
on endless starry nights
to fly above the clouds
thinking you called out
thinking just this once
to leave it all behind me

somewhere

Your niece drew a picture
of a silly smiling family
and in the sky a bluebird
is flying upside down
now if you ever do come back
that's where you'll find me

somewhere

I have no wings but words
Sometimes just like Icarus
I set my sights too high
and feel there's nowhere
else to go yet if I plummet
melting slow my troubles
all may turn to lemon drops
and hopscotch, dandelions
and bluebirds right side up

 

[Rybka]

Brown Shoes Don't Make it

Sorry. I cannot improve on the original, so here it is in it's original form.

Brown Shoes Don’t Make It


Brown shoes don’t make it
Brown shoes don’t make it
Quit school, why fake it
Brown shoes don’t make it

........

Tv dinner by the pool
Watch your brother grow a beard
Got another year of school
You’re okay, he’s too weird
Be a plumber
He’s a bummer
He’s a bummer every summer
Be a loyal plastic robot
For a world that doesn’t care
That’s right
Smile at every ugly
Shine on your shoes and cut your hair

..........

Be a jerk - go to work
Be a jerk - go to work
Be a jerk - go to work
Be a jerk - go to work
Do your job, and do it right
Life’s a ball
Tv tonight
Do you love it
Do you hate it
There it is
The way you made it

..........

A world of secret hungers
Perverting the men who make your laws
Every desire is hidden away
In a drawer in a desk by a naugahyde chair
On a rug where they walk and drool
Past the girls in the office

Hratche-plche, hratche-plche
Hratche-plche...

We see in the back
Of the city hall mind
The dream of a girl about thirteen
Off with her clothes and into a bed
Where she tickles his fancy
All night long

His wife’s attending an orchid show
She squealed for a week to get him to go
But back in the bed his teen-age queen
Is rocking and rolling and acting obscene
Baby baby...
Baby baby...

Gimme them cakes now, uh!
If I do, I’m gonna lose my...

And he loves it, he loves it
It curls up his toes
She wipes his fat neck
And it lights up his nose
But he cannot be fooled
Old city hall fred
She’s nasty, she’s nasty
She digs it in bed
That’s right

..........

Do it again, ha
And do it some more
Hey, that does it, by golly
And she’s nasty for sure
Nasty nasty nasty
Nasty nasty nasty
Only thirteen, and she knows how to nasty
She’s a dirty young mind, corrupted
Corroded
Well she’s thirteen today
And I hear she gets loaded

........

If she were my daughter, i’d...
What would you do, frankie?
Well, if she were my daughter, i’d...
What would you do, frankie?
If she were my daughter, i’d...
What would you do, frankie?
Check this out
Smother my daughter in chocolate syrup
And strap her on again, oh baby
Smother that girl in chocolate syrup
And strap her on again
She’s my teen-age baby
She turns me on
I’d like to make her do a nasty
On the white house lawn
Smother my daughter in chocolate syrup
And boogie ’til the cows come home

..........

Time to go home
Madge is on the phone
Gotta meet the gurneys and a dozen grey attorneys
Tv dinner by the pool
I’m so glad I finished school
Life is such a ball
I run the world from city hall

*********

Lyrics:Frank zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ike willis (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Ray white (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Steve vai (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Warren cucurullo (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Denny walley (slide guitar, vocals)
Tommy mars (keyboards, vocals)
Peter wolf (keyboards)
Bob harris (keyboards, trumpet, vocals)
Ed mann (percussion)
Arthur barrow (bass, vocals)
Vinnie colaiuta (drums)

 

[Angeline]

Be a jerk - go to work
Be a jerk - go to work
Be a jerk - go to work
Be a jerk - go to work
Do your job, and do it right
Life’s a ball
Tv tonight
Do you love it
Do you hate it
There it is
The way you made it

You'll get no arguments from me, fishie. I'd call him a genius just on the basis of the above. You know I saw him in concert when I was 15, which may to some extent explain my current warped state.

 

[perks]

stupid penguins in my head
singing
and not scat like
in those old coca cola commercials
but swing
with undertones of Christianity
it feels like a weird trip
but she listens
and likes the way they dance

I like watching her twirl
the world fades away
And I can see her growing up
her body changing
her situation
I sit here crying
because I love those stupid penguins
when they give my daughter
joy

 

[Icingsugar]

Two listeners' shared moment.
It was shared to me, not by me.
Everything is better shared, but nothing is better shared than moments.

The music is Gabriel by Lamb.

Shared

mark 01:55
From the bridge, the buildup
the shivering, quivering anticipation
slow subtones amassing

I know that thunder
you don't know it yet
but you will
in the eternity of five seconds
will it hit you
like it hit me?

mark 01:58
then words soar warm, clear, sharp.
mark 01:59

"I can fly."

mark 02:00
and the thunder breaks through

It fills the room
a hammering rythm
hiding behind a distant sustain
and a crisp reverb
pumps through my feet
into my spine
and up

welling up in my ears

crashes out from memory
crashes in from speakers
clashes in the middle of it all

mark 02:01
fly...
and we soar

A hand in mine
staring at the same roof
sharing the same thunder
I tell you nothing
there is no room for me or you, just it
that moment when
you feel
you listen
you grip my hand

mark 02:03
and I know
that you felt it too
right there right then
The eighth track of the third album
at mark 02:00

mark 02:05
it is over
but this time more
and still there
echoing thunder again and again

mark 02:11
you still hold on
a moment shared
but not quite gone

What do you feel now
that I dont?

 

[Angeline]

Goodbye Porkpie Hat

is the poem with which I started this thread. I've been playing with the wording for a few days--listening to the music over and over. So now, although I'm feeling sort of melancholy--you try listening to an incredibly sad song 50 times in 48 hours and see what happens, lol--I've got a poem that says what I want it to and is illustrated.

Thanks to those who sent feedback--I always welcome it for any I post, post it here or send me a pm if you have suggestions.

And perks, denis, icing--great stuff, keep em rolling (say hale baby, where's jeff beck, lol). Cmon poets, listen, write (um, except for the Barney song, Eve ).

Maybe karmadog will even come to this thread (and then he won't have to use email to tell me how every word I think I made up has already been used in some tv commercial ; he can do it right here. Cmon doggy, I miss you. I miss smithpeter, too.)

 

[BooMerengue]

Re: Brown Shoes Don't Make it

Sorry. I cannot improve on the original, so here it is in it's original form.

Brown Shoes Don’t Make It


Brown shoes don’t make it
Brown shoes don’t make it
Quit school, why fake it
Brown shoes don’t make it

........

I couldn't sleep and can't think to write so I was just browsin threads and found this...and WowieZowie!

Rybka quoting Zappa! I just this month found an old box my Dad had hidden for me to keep my sibs out of it and in it are all my old I was sure gone forever Zappa, Zeppelin, Beatles and so on and so on...

It was meant to be. I'm just not sure what 'it' is.

 

[BooMerengue]

I just did this... kinda bizarre but maybe someone will catch it...
It's for you, Dad!



Benny Goodman "In The Mood"


The sun
the forest
the rock
the waves
and me

eyes salted shut
feeling the waves
under me moving
the earth
and me

hair flying past
my fingertips
pinesap misting
the ledges
and me

breast bared
to the sun
gleaming down
heating the air
and me

the elementals
coming alive
merging melting
into each other
and me

and so it
began; the dance
the beat that
moved the world
and me.

 

[Angeline]

Boppin With Bud

Blues in the Closet, Bud Powell

Good morning America,
and the greater world at large.
It's 10:16 and 49 brrry degrees,
but autumn sings to me,
so I'm at swingsongy ease
all alone just me
and the house,
and oh so pleased

because Mista Bud Powell
has brought some lively
blues out his closet,
and is jivin with me.

Buddy's a crazy old loon
who dances 88s
in chord-crashing spates
of fours and laughs
(I can hear him),
the whole time he plays,

and if that doesn't tickle
the start of an apple-crisp day,
then you ain't livin baby,
and that's all Mista Bud
and Miz Angeline can say.

 

[Guest]

Carrington.

Always outside
Looking inward
The lighted cottage window
The loving couples
Happy

Alone in the autumn garden
You stood watching
Lost
Once more

The pain of loss seared you so
Unbearable
You tried
But it overwhelmed
Drowned you

Dora
They tried to understand
The complicated desires
Your loneliness
But you eluded them
In the end
Only your art remains



Inspired by Schubert’s Quintet for strings, first movement of the Adagio. It was used to great effect in the film of artist, Dora Carrington’s, life.

 

[Angeline]

The Secret of Life, James Taylor


Today I see your sweet silly face.
I smile back, giggle, and off we go
to another mind race, another fine mess,
another good day. Today I feel blessed.

You're here and you're well,
pain gone away; no pill, no nap.
We can laugh. You can stay!

So we spill words like rivers
in rills of ideas that catch us
in shivers, beset us with thrills
of amazement at how very odd,
at how queer to find oneself
in someone else after years
of compromise, after hope flew away
like an upside-down bluebird.

No thought of tomorrow.
Today's a good day.

We both understand.
There is simply no point
in pointing this out. It's ok
baby, I never doubt but that
you're aware. So sometimes
I cry at the cosmic unfairness
of having won such a transient
prize, so sometimes even
laughing, you fill my eyes.

I don't understand that,
but wise is the person
who knows that the secret of life
is enjoying the passage of time.

Ah well. Always better
to laugh anyway.
Mañana, Mañana,
today's a good day.

 

[Rybka]

Another Favorite Song For Someone to "Poetize"

Not So Sweet Martha Lorraine


She hides in an attic concealed on a shelf
Behind volumes of literature based on herself
And runs across the pages like some tiny elf

Knowing that it's hard to find...
Stuff...
way back in her mind,
Winds up spending all of her time
Trying to memorize every line,

Sweet Lorraine, ...
ah, sweet Lorraine.


Sweet lady of death wants me to die
So she can come sit by my bedside and sigh
And wipe away the tears from all my friends eyes

Then...
softly she will explain
Just exactly who was to blame
For causing me to go insane
And finally blow out my brain,

Sweet Lorraine, ...
ah, sweet Lorraine.


Chorus:
Well you know that it's a shame and a pity
You were raised up in the city
And you never learned nothing 'bout country ways,
...
Ah, 'bout country ways.


The joy of life she dresses in black
With celestial secrets engraved in her back
And her face keeps flashing that she's got the knack,
But you know...

when you look into her eyes
All she's learned she's had to memorize
And the only way you'll ever get her high
Is to let her do her thing and then watch you die,

Sweet Lorraine, ...
ah, sweet Lorraine.


Now she's the one who gives us all those magical things
And reads us stories out of the I Ching,
Then she passes out a whole new basket of rings
That...

when you put on your hand
Makes you one of the Angel Band
And gives you the power to be a man,
But what it does for her you never quite understand

Sweet Lorraine, ...
ah, sweet Lorraine.

Chorus:
Well you know that it's a shame and a pity
You were raised up in the city
And you never learned nothing 'bout country ways, ...

Oh 'bout country ways, ...
oh 'bout country ways, ...
Yeah, about country ways, ...
oh, country ways ...

fade to silence. . .

by Joe McDonald

 

[Angeline]

April in Paris--Joe Williams, Coleman Hawkins, Clark Terry


Sadly, New Jersey
has neither romance
nor mystery.

No one sings April in Trenton,
for example,
or contemplates a visit
to the castle

because there isn't any.
There's White Castle,
but no tours
and smaller bathrooms.

On the other hand,
unlike Prague,
no websites for tourists
that say

The Flood is over!
Postpone your trip no longer!

(because you
weren't planning one)

And don't tell,
but George Washington
could have crossed
the Delaware in hipboots.
Eight steps max.

Still the pizza is great.
And in winter,
sometimes snow.

 

[Angeline]

All I Want by Joni Mitchell

All I really want
to understand is how it is
that bits of bytes and send,
which can't be seen,
which start with whim,
can bring one to an end
that's just confused.

It's not as if it's real,
as if you ever even touch.
Maybe the crux of all of this
is poets simply feel too much.
Damn Poets! Always stretching
that much further in the name
of art.

Why would I do anything,
anything to write a better poem?
Why? Why can't I just leave
my tired heart alone for once,
stop diving ever deeper,
ripping up the algae down inside
the sea of me, stop needing words,
needing to know?

Sometimes I think love is just mythical.

There's never any answer,
not one that's definitive.
Sometimes it's better to just
close your eyes, turn up the blues
and sway; let Prez or Lady Day
hush you slow behind the beat.

All I really want
is to be free, but freedom
is hard won, and I don't want it
at the price of you or me.

Be patient my coyote;
emotions rise and fall in me.
Tomorrow when the storms
are blown aside,
I'll be as clear as a calm sea,
with just the blues as constant
as they'll ever be, as rich and deep
turquoise as cliff side at Tulum,
Quintana Roo, and I won't stumble,
not with you. You can stay
and make the sun come up
to light dark cafe days.

 

[Angeline]

Romantic Overdose

Embraceable You,
George & Ira Gershwin
(performed by Joe Williams)

I can't dance, he says.

Oh yes, you can do this dance.
If you can hold a woman,
you can dance this one.

Just fit hip to hip.
See, mine curve to yours,
just so.
Now hold my right hand
in yours,
and put your left palm flat
against the small of my back.

And given our so very
very nicely matched heights,
given your 6 feet exceeding
mine by 6 inches, that is,
if you bend down,

just a little,
I can touch the back
of your neck
with my left hand,
and just reach your ear

with my lips,
just close enough
to whisper that you
are just as sweet
as you are silly,
and really you can
dance just right.

 

[JUDO]

Always Open
to my sweetheart blues lovin' gal, Angeline

Flash, flash, the flash...
In the drive-by rain,
Tears crawling down my windshield

A big sigh escapes it mark
And I shoved it in Park,
But didn't know just how I would feel.

Sloshed inside too quick
Drowned and drowned door click,
Couldn't see just where I was now.

But on the stage swayin'
Was a sax wailin' and prayin'
With a 'companiment touchin' the hoe down.

I smiled at the band's time
It jumped and fell in mine.
Just grabbin' at my alcoholic heart strings.

A waterin' hole round the corner
Painted with life affirming ardor
And click went my heels as I thought things.

The bags under the eyes
Blood vessels on hands two-sized
And mileage the Auto Club wouldn't honor.

The man blew philosophy
And raised the room's entropy
Til I wondered when I would be a goner.

Muse a muse on muse 'til muse
Little gremlins dancing in a circle.

I felt I'd been nailed there
Swam through the air there.

Stuck it in 'Drive'
And headed home.

 

[Angeline]

Lady Be Good

Back atcha sweet jazz sista JUDO, who understood from the first--
with love and smooches from Ange and Prez

Oh Lady Be Good and jump jam your dues,
shine ‘em in four-fours straight up and classy,
huck-a-buck swing shift me rhythm and shoes
tip me a tap and dance it up sassy.

You know the story, now sing me the song.
Surf it in rhythm that's beat to the bar.
Moan saxophone, and you’ll never go wrong.
Jazz with me gypsy, my westernmost star.

Ride in with the beatbone; look to the sky:
Prez plays in heaven; he's giggin’ with wings,
blowin’ with Gabriel mad, bad, and fly,
scattin’ for every blues swinger who sings.

Jump with me JUDO; we'll tell ‘em the news,
Oooh wop a doo boppa jive poppa blues!

 

[_Land]

Sunny side of the street (reprise) LMAO

I havn't forgotten A



Grab my ass and get your thrills
Leave your worries at the doorstep
Lust can be so sweet
On the hookers side of the street

Can't you hear the slippity-slap
And that happy tune is your sigh
Lust, you can always repeat
On the hookers side of the street

I used to walk in the shade with my bills unpaid
But I'm not afraid...this Momma’s crossed over

If I never spent a Gent
I'd be poor as a homeless feller
Gold tossed at my feet
On the hookers side of the street

(instrumental break)

I used to walk in the shade with my bills unpaid
Now I'm not afraid... this Momma’s has crossed over

Now if I never spent one Gent
I’d still be poor as a homeless feller
There will be gold tossed at my feet
On the hookers,
On the hookers, hookers side of the street