Blues
By Charisse R. Cecil
Inspiration piece

My music, my mood.

Billie and Miles.

Melancholy and mellow.

The berries

in my morning muffin.

His bow-legged, boot-cut,

denim-clad swagger.

The funky-sweet blend

of sweat, liquor, tears and sex

in every foot tap on the juke joint floor.

The bruises that hide

behind Bronze Base #5.

Branford’s band and Spike’s “Mo’ Better.”

B.B. and Lucille.

The Franconia-Springfield metro line.

The steely eyes of young Minister Malcolm’s

devils.

Langston’s weary and big sea.

The Saturday night cabaret voice

Singing in the Sunday morning choir.

Sea -deep sorrow.

A saxophone’s moan.

My hopes,

caked on and cracking

like Aunt Minnesota’s

electric

sky

eye shadow.

Michael Mineiro
Response

————–

SPIRIT OF THE BLUES 盐魂

Michael Mineiro 马明凯
Response

Knock Knock
It is a voice
In the evening, as the people gather
In the city square, local cafes

———————————————————————————–

TWO LEVELS

Being True   Being   True

I’ve got to be true
To the spirit of the Blues
The Spirit

———————————————————————————–

I’ve got be true
To the sound heard in Hong Kong
At a bar called 64
Six-four, Tiananmen

Ironic, an American
Travels to Asia
To learn the Blues
But I’ve got to be true

It ain’t easy, be true
I finally get it, payin’ one’s dues
It’s all about, being true

True in love
True in work
True to oneself

Others feel it,
Need it
Sense
Be it

———————————————————————————–

Another thought

Lunks to images of busking
In Lan Kwai Fong
Smells, street smells
Hong Kong smells
Of Beer, and laowais
Foolishness, noise
Yet hidden, in the back
People being True