Description: this is my first jazz poem written with jazz in mind...4 jazz, to jazz, inspired by jazz.
now wasnt that jazzy.
yeah... to let some of you know what or who the Mayor is in the neighborhood. its the guy at the corner store who gets all the not so of age cats liquor if he can keep the change.
this is inner city livin, so if you havent lived it, it might seem a little weird.
this is all about the transitions we do and dont see that occur everyday.
this occurs during the course of one day seen from 2 perspectives.
but through each part there's one singular theme.
The bricks
lesiurely lay in the cut
watching in silence
as we transition
from night to day.
they see
all that transpires
from the vile
to the misbehaved
to innocence
being lost.
a mother
from her window seat
yells her sons name out
"Go to the store
get my lottery tickets &
a pack of cigarettes;
Hurry up & be quick
its almost 7'oclock".
transition disrupted...
the other day
it was "hide & go touch"
today its "house"...
& your the spouse.
now you
gotta break out.
so you
transition.
Our unseen watchers
watch us
through there own
version of a
ring fellowship.
the brick
talks to the tree.
the tree
is in deep with the street
& passes sappy
leaflet notes to
everybody below.
the street
transitions what it see's
to the grass.
the grass
talks to the glass &
the rest of the debris.
an sometimes
sometimes
the glass
has a face to face
with the bricks.
"crash"...
as quiet as kept
the city talks.
as we stay transfixed
on us.
You transition
from one known block
to the unknown next.
a voice appears
"AHH man
be cool...
be cool...
its cool."
the wind whispers
& you thought it was you.
your inner city scowl
transitions
to lost.
searching for your
super transfer
so you can
transfer later.
.
.
.
found...
smooth...
the aromatic aroma
of rodents
& rat poison
fades away
in Mexican corn
with mayonaise.
the corner
were the Mayor
& his constituants
stand idle.
there only mode of transit
is the bottle.
conversing over
the strifes of life
from today
they transition
to the Jazz of yesterday.
a tree
drops a leaf
& the wind
blows the debris.
a bottle meets
with the street.
As
they... be-bop
an... skat
they...stand up a little straighter
& illustrate musically.
there pride & joy
connects to there
inner child
if only for a limited time
&..play..
&...&...play...
transition...
back to today
the memory
of the imagery
sails away
in there
glossy caffine stained eye's.
but its alright
its all captured
by the city
anyway.
"Salute"
Transition
from land
to the electric skyway...
the train.
my 3rd or...
maybe my...4th
favorite transition
of the day.
walk the plank
waiting for Silver Streak
to emurge.
a rupture of sound
& a rush of air
gives away
its here.
she opens causally
they flood out
we step in.
cool air
goose bumps my skin.
take my place
the window seat
my personal 32"
wide screen expose.
she makes reading
a tad bit...difficult
so you can't help
but...
look through her
glass canvas.
time travel in one place.
the bricks marked
with modern day hieroglyphics.
a gallery of street artistry.
you can see
the finger prints of the
city's compositions
transition.
rooftop after rooftop
to empty lots
to old shops
to new spots.
its
Naked..City...
at this altitude.
WOW! Once again I am in amazement on the beauty of your inkmanship. Transitions.....everthing transitions I guess. People, and objects. The mayor......nice lil job he has there. I think that I may run for mayor in the city in which you reside. LOL!
You gave a depth and a rhythm to this that was in a way political. And by that I mean....you gave it all truth down the the depth of reality. Some may look at this and see a story....but I look at it and see everyday life.
I really liked the flow and style of this poem. Take this as a compliment...From my perspective, I felt a sort of Jim Morrison, Doorsy aesthetic. The feel of the poem, the linguistic mechanisms used were just sweet. And the subject matter, well, what can I say, "in transition," that house on the rising sun may not be standing anymore.
WHOA! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!...that's me applauding you.lol This is a great piece of art. The words to the canvass. You are right, if a person had not experience this type of living, well they will be lost in reading this. True that when you explained who the real mayor is. Transition...yes indeed transition. I was going down memory lane on many parts of this write. From the beginning, Hurry up, its almost 7 o'clock. I've heard that phrase many times growing up. Yeah, and those rats sure did stink.lol I like the way you broke it down, It was right on! A great masterpiece! As always, you take care...wanda
Submission Name: Transitions
