“Miles Davis Was A Jazzman” by Craig S. O’Connell

Miles Davis was a jazzman
A razzamatazz man
Leader of the band
With a trumpet in his hand
Miles Davis
Miles Davis.

Miles Davis was
A looming lyrical man
Soft and sassy,
Bold and brassy,
A bebop hipster
Sharp as a tack
So clean,
So cool.

Boppin’ the blues at Birdland
with his big bop band
Bebop
Doo Bop
Strictly Rebop

On the corner
On Green Dolphin Street
Down on 52nd Street
and the uptown Harlem beat
There was Miles
Steamin’… workin’… cookin’… relaxin’

The musings of Miles were often
kind of blue
Like a blue haze on quiet nights
A bluesette at starlight
A blue mood heard round about midnight
Miles Davis was all blues.

A muted Miles melody
Is a soft soothing lullaby
in any language.
From his sketches of Spain
to the girls of Kilimanjaro
and the images of Nefertiti
Miles was the man with the horn
From whom the cool was born.

I thought I saw Miles just the other day
I heard that trumpet cry, wail, sigh
In a silent way
Miles away
Miles in the sky

Miles Davis

Craig S. O’Connell

(Professor Bop)

© 1999

“Praises From A Tenor Sax” by L. K. Thayer

like salt on a bloodsucker

recoiling, shriveling

paralyzed fits of punishing

pawnshop

reuniting

with the sell-out

the down and out

muck and mire choir

singing

praises from a tenor sax

and a song

you can’t let go of…

fill the loving cup

and drink it dry

try to stay away

but you can’t fight

the pull

of the taffy

you get stuck in the

sweetness

and you wanna

die happy

L. K. Thayer

Photograph by Milos J. Kohout

Celluloid1

Prague © 2011

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Stevie Kalinich on “The Jazz Poets Social Club” @Elderberries tonight!

 

 

Foto by L. K. Thayer

I love the poetry
I love the people
like hungry children
like needy beggars
we ned the inspiration
to carry on
in the face of such immensity
when economies are falling
and depression is rising
and everyone says no
I say yes to keeping the language
and its many voices alive.
The word painters and the painters
with the brush
and the invisible brush of images
The prose and poems
will touch you
one for one
one for another for
certainly in our time
the end f 201
we need the voice of poets
that spoke through the beats
The Kerouac’s and Mcheline;s
of the world
who are now blooming
to keep poetry alive
is to keep life alive
while poets write
and painters paint
and doers do
there is hope for the world
for they will never
silence these voices
and we will rise
a sisterhood a brotherhood
rise up against oppression
and hatred.
We will plant the seeds
for peace
and revolution
wherever the soul is violated
and mankind’s needs
are pushed under.
Keep the poem alive
and God Damn come tonight.
There is something for you here
whoever you are.
LOve
Stevie

Stephen John Kalinich

Elderberries Cafe, Hollywood, CA

L. K. Thayer’s Foto Fetish

© 2010

“all the way home” by Thayer/Ferry

he just kept playin’ and blowin’ his blue notes

into the echos of his emptiness

hitting notes of all our

emptiness

as we listened to our heart strings

and our matter of factness

being  pulled back

we would forget what time it was

cause it stopped mattering

as his belly blew the melancholy

reaching right through us

reaching deep into us

reaching each other

as he took us

all the way home

L. K. Thayer

Photo by VC Ferry

© 2010

“Praises From A Tenor Sax” by L. K. Thayer

Photo of L. K. Thayer by Sandra Carlson

like salt on a bloodsucker
recoiling, shriveling
paralyzed fits of punishing
pawnshop

reuniting
with the sell-out
the down and out
muck and mire choir
singing
praises from a tenor sax
and a song
you can’t let go of

fill the loving cup
and drink it dry
try to stay away
but you can’t fight
the pull
of the taffy

you get stuck in the
sweetness
and you wanna
die
happy

L. K. Thayer
© 2010



Poet, Roz Levine

Ah, Lisa, queen and empress and regal directress of the Juice Bar. We fly to your Juice Bar for fattening and feasting, plumping ourselves up to ripe and ready with words and art and the god damn jazzy mysteries of creativity shaking its head from the womb of the creator.
Thank you, merci beaucoup, muchas gracias, danke shein or thanks for the rootin’, tootin’ shots of energy we need to keep us going, going, going till we are gone and out of the sometime of this ordinary world and can see with our own eyes on fire burst just how beautiful, how very beautiful is the holy.
Love you, girl with the hats galore and the words of pussy willows wafting across the wide of this world.
Roz
© 2010

“Jazzzzman” by Mitch Hicks

“Songs from off the wall
Jazzzzman plays big base
Dark Smokey beer stained walls
Yet gorgeous butterflies flutter sweet scents
In the shadow murky vice abounds
Cash tills singing as Jazzzzman plucks a boogie tune
Humping punters being tossed off in a back room
Still Jazzzzman struts his stuff
Cash tills overflowing like the spent punters
Jazzzzman now in bluesy mood
Mellow lights blending into the morning haze
Jazzzzman plays one last tune”

© 2010