down at the jazz factory
landlord keeps the beat
steady
steady
slow
this is landlord’s parade
and this is how he plays it
his sticks are tight, the music tight
this night feels
all right
landlord hits the cymbals
and it starts to rain
shh-tat-ta-tat-tat-splash
just a little sprinkle
shh-tat-ta-tat-tat-splash
and the horns walk in, start jumping
into puddles
trombone is the backbone, the big brother
do-whop-a-whop
wah-wah
do-whop-a-whop
wah-wah
trumpet is the poet of the family
he pours the coffee
beh-dee-deet
da dee-deet
beh-dee-da-dee-da-dee-deet
and the girl
with the whiskey fist
and the rose on her lips
blows him a kiss
so he talks to her
beh-dee-deet
da dee-deet
beh-dee-da-dee-da-dee-deet
time gets loose and thin
but landlord snares it in
so tight
shh-tat-ta-tat-tat-splash, shh-tat-ta-tat-tat-splash
do-whop-a-whop
wah-wah
do-whop-a-whop
wah-wah
landlord punched the clock
and we start to rock
beh-dee-deet
da dee-deet
beh-dee-da-dee-da-dee-deet
landlord is pounding
horns are laughing
pounding and laughing
laughing
and pounding
all of a sudden
the music stops
all is
quiet
silent
like
holding your breath
before a storm
and landlord says
“time to pay the rent!”
boom-boom-splash-boom!, bah-boom-bah-boom! bah-boom! ric-a-tic-a- splash!
boom-boom-boom! thump-a-thump-a-tic-a-tic-a boom-bash-boom-splash!
boom-splash! boom-splash! rat-a-tat-tat-tat-boom, bah-boom! bah-boom-boom-
splash! splash! splash!
boom-boom!
splash!
boom!
boom!
boom-splash!
yeah!
and then the trombone blows up, and the trumpet blows up, and the room blows up
and the moon blows up, one whole city block blows up, and all of harlem
shakes
all the whiskey fists and red rose lips screaming “drums have won! horns have won!
all is one!”
just the way i like it
posted for Shay's Word List #7
posted for dverse oln #307
posted for poets and storytellers united
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jalopy dreams 
This is so outstanding, and you know it. Music poems—the ones that really get at the essence of the way rhythm and sound make us feel—are some of my ultimate faves.You are the new Brian (the poet who started dverse). Your style favors his, in its own unique way. Definitely link this at the next dverse open-link night. They will eat this up.“shh-tat-ta-tat-tat-splash” … What a gift to be able to do this—capture sound so accurately.more of my favorites:“trumpet is the poet of the family he pours the coffee”“and the girl with the whiskey fist”“landlord punched the clock and we start to rock” … I can totally picture this scene unfolding, and really, it’s just brilliant poetry. I’m so happy for you; you must feel fulfilled, being responsible for this masterpiece. And exhausted, I’d imagine. 🙂
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thanks pepper, glad you liked it. it's very experimental, so, we'll see how it does
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Forgotten me, *?
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All they need is Alexander's Ragtime Band, Dixieland, Dixieland. Have you seen the movie “Whiplash”? Your drums vs. horns makes me think of it, Your ending is spooky, like a single ding of a triangle in the smoky empty street. So glad you wanted to be part of this week's word list!
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I was emerged in that from the get go shh-tat-ta-tat-tat-splash.Very original. Supremely enjoyable. Full on cascading ride through the music. Love the way you’ve staggered it on the page as you went. Some killer lines too – (like whiskey fist, and..) “time to pay the rent!” boom-boom-splash-boom!, bah-boom-bah-boom! bah-boom! ric-a-tic-a- splash!
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Amazing the way you've made virtual music here–all the sounds are perfect, expressive, and dramatic, all while full of sly humor, the kind that comes from fighting for your life and trying not to show it, which to me is the skeleton of jazz, and indeed of the force that moved in Hughes' poems–taking things from the streets to the page(or the tune), from the gut to the cerebral, but never losing either. Love it all–the explosion, and the girl, and blue heat.
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As a former member of a marching band, that on occasion would break out with a few dance steps depending on the song, I absolutely love the rhythm, the sounds, the movement, the magic. (you forgot the flute.)
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thank you shay. not sure i like the ending, i think i'm going to cut it out after the “all is one” line. and thanks for the movie tip, i'll check that out
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thank you darius, glad you enjoyed this
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thank you joy, you always find the hidden layers, and oh, i got my email working on this laptop, so talk to you soon
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you are right helen, i'll learn to play air-flute and get it into the next poem for ya=) so glad you liked this
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Wow, the music is speaking, playing, leading throughout this poem. Amazing piece!
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A very interesting poem form. I can almost hear the music and feel the beat!
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Oh, wow – I love this! Music and poetry are so closely related, so great when one pays tribute to the other, and in doing so becomes the other.
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Always love the sound and beat of your poetry. It's amazing and it takes you on a mind-trip when reading each word. The way you format it too is so important for that effect, makes you feel that rhythm to the music that flows. I swooned over these lines for their figurative and literal imagery:” with the whiskey fistand the rose on her lips blows him a kiss”It's so alluring and daring in a way, just love it. Beautifully written!
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Fresh and original work Phillip – I really enjoyed this…
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Love your reachin’ high for a great OLN, bravo Phillip! 🙂✌🏼❤️
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I love it — “time to pay the rent”
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thank you susie, glad you liked this
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no form about it brother, just pure jazz, glad you enjoyed this
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thank you ingrid, i feel the same way about it, glad you enjoyed
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thanks lucy, so glad you liked this
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thank you scott, i don't recognize your name and don't think i've read work before. i'll look for you on the oln list
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well i do like pushing the limits, thanks rob, glad you enjoyed this
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thank you ron, so glad you liked it
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I would have never thought of it this way, but I can see how drums suit the landlord, or anyone with an interest in keeping institutions solid. But between those beats so much life happens.
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Sonic poetry. Whiskey fists is sweet image.
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Some much music. A whole block blows up. Wow!!!Nice oneHappy New YearMuch🥂love
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A stunning poem, Phillip. I love all the sounds, I wish I could hear them for real. And then the moon blows up, Harlem blows up, everything blows up! A fitting end to such a fine poem ☀️
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Wonderful creation of atmosphere, and the sound reproductions come stunningly alive.
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Phillip, I think this would make a neat rap song. “time to pay the rent,” wouldn't you know the landlord would visit just the wrong time…
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i know right, the notion him me just the other day. i used to play in jazz groups and punk bands, and percussion really is what creates the space all the other instruments fill, so the ideas feels rather natural. so glad you liked this
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thank you ollie, glad you stopped by
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yes ma'am, a whole block!
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yep, the way all highpower jazz should end, thank you sunra
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thank you rosemary
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thank you jim
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Wow! This poem just pulls you right in – I was there, listening to the music, feeling the vibe. I would raise a whisky to that performance!
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How I would love to listen to this poem… meanwhile I can hear all the music even as I read it!
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“Time to pay the rent” – love that lineEach of us will hear a different song, see a different battle of the band. That's what makes this interesting (I picture a Fantasia kind of thing going on but it may be the fever)
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This cries to be read aloud!!!!
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This is wonderful, Phillip. I could heard the life-music in my head as I read the words. And by the time I got to the end, I found myself thinking about the current state of housing in NYC–the issues the city, landlords, and tenants have been having because of the pandemic. I wonder, if the final song will be something to be liked.
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Man…this is good…JIM
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thanks jim, glad you liked
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