Posts tagged ‘Jazz’

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November 3, 2014

The plague

by jhon baker

I’ve been down with a plague of sorts – Bronchitis and the flu, fun stuff.

The death of my brother and a continued concentration on music – the poetry has suffered greatly.

Now I’ve been reminded that I haven’t posted in a while and I am better for the reminder as I need this reminder to live on my doorstep and ring the bell occasionally. Perhaps something new will happen that isn’t heart wrenching or energy draining. Perhaps I shall eat all the leftover Halloween candy and find this lost energy and slip into the manic side of my personality defects. In the meantime I’ve lubricated my old trumpet to have as a backup for a show I’m suppose to be playing the next two weekends should my Yamaha horn fail me or fall on the steps I am to climb. I’ve already missed opening weekend which made the director scramble for a last minute replacement that played air trumpet to a midi – file recording of my part. I’m sure live it would sound better or worse – I haven’t practiced it with the accompaniment – only solo and am sure that I’ve jazzed it up beyond what is called for. But how badly can one screw up – “Singing in the Rain” – surely not as bad as one can screw up something with more than six notes. I suppose there is an F# in there but it is not being played for this particular application of rain singing.

 

in a moment we become only photographs

visions in fading memories

 

 

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April 16, 2014

late night posting

by jhon baker

Lying in bed and finding typing difficult to do with any sense of rhythm.

I have Clifford Brown queued up on the iPod and Dawkins as my nighttime reading.

I type now, in the dark, by touch alone.

Medications have been taken and callouses removed, Ruger LC9 on the nightstand – I am naked ready for action.

My nails are long and the moon, nearly full, is no longer blood, calling for the end of times.

I rest easy – thinking long thoughts about David Ignatow, Russia, and the wars in general.  I am not a purveyor of the selfie or silly quizzes though I take them out of boredom. I am heavy bored because I lack inner resources. Thank you John Berryman.

My wife wears too many clothes.

 

 

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March 31, 2014

have I ever posted this before?

by jhon baker

part 3

 

 

the good girls gave in

to enfant terribles of late night

sophistication, movie drive-ins;

Caligulas of teenaged heterosexual addiction

homosexual a priori instinct.

 

ultramarine blues playing on in back room wasteland

tones, color, emotions of form.

she sips brandy and smokes cigars

a Cognac dipped haze, muted consideration

sand paper verses of strange fruit in sequined dresses.

 

we are the drunkards of brass rail barfly joints;

we celebrate half broken neon signs.

we are the soulful moth occupying

the half-light of fading streetlamps.

we are the desperate, misconceived.

we’ve shirts off in a moment of frenzy

and misaligned allusions to greatness

we are the bop shambala meditations

of time-space inequity.

 

and I cannot free you this,

heal you this.

 

but I am with you,

in a body beautiful,

shattered, crying out

on back porches, smoking, singing,

dancing you with crazed two-step and Spanish tango.

protean tongues lapping at the innocence of milk,

slingshot flames and firecracker wisdom

twisting our bodies around images

and starry night scenes

on freshly made beds too small for comfort.

 

sheathing my pen in high fidelity smiles,

we weep like soft-skulled school children

– aesthetes of playground bike rack bloody noses.

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May 26, 2010

cowboys and a bitches brew

by jhon baker

Happy postmortem birthday to Miles Davis and John Wayne.
I have an appointment for a casual breakfast an hour away so there are only fifteen more minutes to complete this post before I must be going.
He wanted to meet at ten, a far more sensible time.
The reception dinner at my wedding played Sketches of Spain, to this day my favorite jazz album although once involved in marriage you begin to understand Bitches Brew quite well.
one thing has nothing to do with the other.
Hemingway wrote a book with short sentences, I long to write one with long sentences and short paragraphs about a fish fighting for it’s life in the sea only to be caught by some old bastard who shoots himself eventually.
it will not be autobiographical.
My thesaurus doesn’t have an entry for masturbation which was never really needed but interesting to look up (found the info on the net).
I’m considering not getting an omelet for breakfast, but french toast instead.
last year I would have just gotten both but I’m older now.

maybe I’ll just get both despite my advancing years.

POEM

uncom
             mon
                       inciden
                                     t.
noting
             move
                       ment a
                                    nd colour
my
       eyes
                  watchi
                               ng
                                      when
there’
           s nothin
                          g to
                                  see,
but s
         hade i
                     nto
                            shade
creati
           ng f
                  orm.
                            so I
driv
        e on
                 knowin
                               g ther
                                           e’s
nothi
          ng t
                 o see.

 –  Hoc Scripsi

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