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Tag Archives: with love

what space confines

what is a house

what is a room

brine and sand

many flowers

both real and unreal

beauty is a teasing frame of mind

in effective black and white

last tangerine you smell

last oranges you suck

go go go

vermillion shades

do not break your night

your heart my heart

like a spinning top

coney island

coney island

 

 

Gill Scott-Heron, Running

Last Poets, Related to what

John Sinclair , Consequences

Lawrence Ferlinghetti with Dana Colley, I’m waiting

Ursula Rucker, Philadelphia child

The Books, It never changes to stop

 

“spiritual”

what is jazz, but spirituals

played thru saxophones

& trombones,

spirit voices

thru metal tubings

& the terrible repetition

of the formal premise, viz.

trance-like

at its best, or boring

when the spirit doth not move,

oh what is blues

but spirituals with a line

removed,

that is structurally,

& in content just a prayer

to the gods of daily life,

to ask the blessing

that the body of another

may lay warm in the bed

beside you at night, and the rent

be paid, and a meal

on the table, with the sheriff

far away

from the scene of the crime,oh

what is jazz but the registration

of the human personality

in relation to the spiritual,

stripped of literal meaning

but full of sound & portent,

direct as the voice of the gods

John Sinclair

John Coltrane, Naima

Jerry Garcia, Love scene

Rolling Stones, Salt of the earth

Roscoe Holcomb, I wish I was a single girl again

Pink  Floyd, Astronomy domine

Kaleidoscope, Brother Mary

Haunted House, Been so long

middle east, somewhere

middle east, somewhere

 

 

O love

did the world come to you

in the form of a woman

and you

were you training with mirrors

to make yourself perfect

Leonard Cohen

Van Morrison – Moon dance

John Coltrane – Ev’ry time we say goodbye

Rolling Stones – Angie

Tim Hardin – One,one the perfect sum

Neil Young – Comes a time

Angels at the foot,

And angels at the head,

And like a curly little lamb

My pretty babe in bed.

Christina G. Rossetti

And how sweet a story it is

when you  hear Charlie Parker

tell it,

either in records or at sessions,

or at official bits in clubs,

shots in the arm for the wallet,

gleefully he Whistled the

perfect

horn

anyhow, made no difference.

 

Charley Parker, forgive me-

forgive me for not answering your eyes –

for not having made an indication

of that which you can devise –

Charley Parker, pray for me –

pray for me and everybody

in the Nirvanas of your brain

where you hide, indulgent and huge,

no longer Charley Parker

but the secret unsayable name

that carries with it merit

not to be measured from here

to up, down, east, or west –

– Charley Parker, lay the bane,

off me, and every body

SONNET

and that night. the electric storm. the lake

flames. you sleeping so soundly. your big bones.

smooth forehead. your dry pale mouth split lip skin

flakes. to bite them off with needle point precision

 teeth. to chew and roll in a minute translucent ball

and spit ball against the horizon. slin its so

wonderful peeling your back after summer. a perfect

sheet of skin. pores backprint and some bone down.

your backbones fossil. the sickly olive patch beneath

 

pressing the veil of skin against my face. sucking

some in with every breath. skin erection all symbols

of a bliss. I was so amsed so moved I loved you so much.

WITT,1973,Gothan Book Mart

 

 

The world is a beautiful place

to be born into

if you don’t mind happiness

not always being

so very much fun

if you don’t mind a touch of hell

now and then

just when everything is fine

because even in heaven

they don’t sing

all the time

The world is a beautiful place

to be born into

if you don’t mind some people dying

all the time

or maybe only starving

some of the time

which isn’t fall so bad

if it isn’t you

She walks in beauty like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry sky;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellow’d to that tender light

Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair’d the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

 

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

immagine_246

I woke up oh mine

when you called me sweety

my rebirth was coming

may I bite you again may I feed you

some good reason for breakfast

me,barefoot in front of the door

kissing a smile sharing a toffee

morning lost,unusual old weather

a naked dress and daily blossoms:

two of us,a certain love


089_angoli_01

( Angoli,photo courtesy of Mauro Migoni )