pleasing you
I was sat in a bar today
watching one of the screens
– and there was this girl
singing a simple cadence
– she had a guitar
but how her audience
drowned out her simple melodies
as they screamed and screamed – and screamed.
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I have read this – lost count now how many times, and each time I love it more. I think that for me, this is what poetry is about. Saying everything simpley, and simply everything. WOW.
🙂
getting things to bloody rhyme
– certainly takes a lot of time
cheers Jo
i may have a character to go with your girl. its a little carney but smacks of all sorts of underground and intrigue.
Felix and the harpischord,
Felix banged out swell tunes on the harpsichord,
the gay trills his fingers produced rung like a bell
whose toll augered the life of the listener.
period piece, gothic, limited appeal but someone who can play the harpsichord in an uncanny way now in a noir hybrid genre, na still limited appeal. an uncanny harpischord player who plays the listener writer reader is a rainmaker idea. like listening to glass or eno and coming out with the game plans for life. Come on Felix play your harpischord the girls in the whorehouse would say to him as a young boy. I mean if a man or women is willing and able to play live music they have a platform for life. And yet writers build a HUGE platform and dive for kicks. He had a PhD in electronic music of the ambient kind nobody really had the time to get what he was doing faithfully day in day out. He had written his dissertation hastily on a napkin underneath table of well heeled advertising creeps, handed it to his supervisor little knowing this would take up the rest of his life and pretty taken up most of it already. The actual dissertation wandered with Cage, Glass, Eno considering the aural architecture of a generation or so of mind altering drugs and creative subjectivities mass communication had to be nuanced, coded, textured, pliable and allowed to run wildly unfettered from the most virulent and inain ideologies. Felix became a little headstrong in the academic environment and getting the shits with the scientists whose useless claims are destructive, he boiled it do to a formula held in the form of a chord progression. Not to control someones mind but to bring them back to their better self by stimulating their imagination inadvertently. Where things became awry is when the formula and Felix’s harpsichord playing produced strange effects. You could talk on about Felix all night.