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
to the year that has passed and all its happenstance so long to the battles i lost and crosswords unsolved farewell to the sky that does not know if it wants to snow or shine may you find peace to all the leaves now fallen from the sycamore tree i wave from my window to all the dead batteries in the back of the desk drawer i’m sure we’ll meet again to last year’s new year’s eve seven-layer dip still on the bottom shelve of the fridge sorry i let you down to the empty gum wrapper blowing around in the gutter live long, live well to cable news and the loons who scream on the bus good show to all the books with dusty dust covers i plan to read but never do have faith to all the potholes on east alameda avenue that never get fixed stay true and to the new year that approaches and all of its verve i say ok happy new year everyone!
attack of the babbling acrobats (3rd draft)
(for all the fringe artists out there feeling a little beat-up) acrobats damn those goofy fools and their rubber bones who drag their wild weather wherever they go so ferociously flexible so transcendental so rude acrobts are the leading cause of jungle gyms, giggle-ism and restless leg syndrome acrobats are like sugary snacks, they’ll ruin your dinner evil playmates who eat birthday cake all year long worst of all, acrobats will steal your tv, so easily and so completely, you won’t remember owning one all acrobats wear bullet-proof jackets, just in case in snows all acrobats wear ugly hats, except those who don’t acrobats like to feed baby ducks on the grave site of dee dee ramone, king of acrobats acrobats make and trade the most horrible things: chinese finger traps left-handed puddle shovels egyptian ice cream forks poetry and totem poles and worst of all, nun flavored gum all acrobats have loose screws, which makes them rattle like spare change in the dryer some call it music, some call it inspired songs that sound like lunatic finger-strumming rubberband lips nobody like lunatic acrobat music, except those who do and worst of all we need to build a wall, to keep them contained some kind of acrobat habitat but what is it exactly that makes them so dangerous to cardboard cutout society? too quick with a joke? too fast on their feet? too many tricycles on flimsy highwires? dancing on beach balls? running around thinking their own thoughts? damn them! damn them all to kansas! and how do we defeat them? some call an exterminator some scrape away the bad brainwaves with a hot coat hanger some bang their heads on church bells some cuss out the waiter and leave one percent tips some get their yawn on and try to forget some bury their heads in suburban homesteads and wallow in comfortable sorrow but not me i’ve got acrobats in my attic and couldn’t be happier
posted for shay’s word garden word list