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Mark Oct 2019
Texas Blues is music, ending with a period
You can’t go read out of a book, and be superior
Nothing you go take a bite out of, and eat it
It’s something that is just there, like real legit

Playing sets, from seven to eleven
Crowds roll in, think their in heaven
Start with some slow riffs, like your first lesson
Then unwind my weapon, to close out the session

It’s something you grew up with, just there
I don’t know if it’s the dirt, water or the air
But hope to god, it’s a bit of all of them, hey son
By the way, I’m moving to the coast, to see what’s going on

Playing sets, from seven to eleven
Crowds roll in, think their in heaven
Start with some slow riffs, like your first lesson
Then unwind my weapon, to close out the session

King Albert Collins, either deny or release the freeman
Hell! He ain’t forgot what he knew, for any reason
Freed de king, over and over and over
Texas Blues is a feeling moreover

Playing sets, from seven to eleven
Crowds roll in, think their in heaven
Start with some slow riffs, like your first lesson
Then unwind my weapon, to close out the session

Something, I’m glad I know a little about
But not as much as I should, no doubt
Into both winter rain and summer shine
The two journeys of hope and land of Crime.
TR3F1LD Oct 2019
****, bruh! call a bomb squad (bo[ɑ]mb squa[ɑ]d)
for there's a bomb—
—shell here, whose rear evokes a somewha[ʌ]t
unholy, wrong thought (wro[ɑ]ng thou[ɑ]ght)
reminds him of a jihadi-done job (jihadi-done jo[ɑ]b)
'cause this ***'s (boom) banging; this honey's dancing
boldly & lewdly, got his jaw dropped (ja[ɑ]w dro[ɑ]pped)
his sight's fixed on her hips, she's beyond hot (bey[ɑ]ond **[ɑ]t)
this gal's freaking blazing
his hand's in offensive motion for her hind part
a haptic invasion
she moves on from wining to fondling, she's eager
such a luscious body, killer figure (body)
disguised with a tank
top with a low neckline & tight-fit cropped pants
she's like: "make me high like a rooftO̲p nearly reaching
the sky; give me a tI̲me so exquisite
that I̲'ll be left speechless
when this ro[ɑ]mp's over"
she's none short o'... a mind-blower, like a gun-toter
blowing a brain of a **** hound wrongdoing
('bout time to strike a hunting seas-on up on these ****)
she digs vicious, dark-sounding music
but also doesn't mind to bounce her tushie
to 90-100 bpm party-sound tunes
I'm a bit ashamed of my imagination, but I couldn't help it.

remade into "a night out rhyme tale, part II":
hellopoetry.com/poem/4883683
Mark Sep 2019
Get out of my life
Shut the front door
Or you'll be in strife
Like I've told you before

So she don't want you back
I could have told you that
Your fault for being so slack
Now who's wearing the top hat
At least ya don't have to put up with her girlie pack
The new gals at the bar will just think your some stray cat

Get out of my life
Shut the front door
Or you'll be in strife
Like I've told you before

But I miss her so much
I miss her soft touch
I know I was a bit rough
But she messed with my brain
Getting lost down memory lane
Like a boxers hit with no real true pain

Get out of my life
Shut the front door
Or you'll be in strife
Like I've told you before

I'll treat her with more respect
I don't won't our relationship to be wrecked
Do you think she will take me back?
I want to get our relationship on the right track
But first I want to see how I go with some other gals
Maybe she would be happier, if we were just good pals.
Mark Sep 2019
I lived my life full of hope
Whiskey, Coke and green dope
Tablets with faces, just in case
But never acted out of place

A simple plan, with time on my side
An olive grove vineyard
Which crept on by, for a while
Yellow butterfly just landed
Then vanished without a trace
But never acted out of place

A sad brown eyed foreigner sipping inside
Along with a black tanned stranger
Who magically appeared from behind
A tongue tied drinker, tried to whisper
But she couldn’t quite seem to talk
But never acted out of place

I lived my life full of hope
Whiskey, Coke and green dope
But never acted out of place.
Mark Oct 2019
You can have it all, if you don't need nothing
Keep the good vibes rolling, if it helps with one's loving
It's like a whole EDM festival, coming from your mouth
Not like those turntable dudes, down in the deep south
I thought DJs had had their freestyle spinning last days
Like Catholic church priests and their unholy ******* ways

Licking soda-pops over a long hot summer holiday
Kissing a girl named, Katy Perry, the very next day
Licking it all up, before she shows her b-SiDE
Then screams to three, to come on back inside
Like snatching the America's Cup, with Ben Lexcen’s winning keel
While somewhere amongst the hills of Hollywood’s La La Land
Whole plates of food, just going to waste, inside, never never,  friggin Disneyland
While a starving homie, maybe, just ate his very last meal

They say, ‘I'm the new messiah’.Thanks, but, I don't even try
Thanks to so few, excluding the ones, who waved me on by
I'm sort of creating, a brand new hype and buzz
Full of pure clarity, with a dash of man-made fuzz
When the beat stops, from its fast-talking pace
We all like to flop and drop that ******* bass

Licking soda-pops over a long hot summer holiday
Kissing a girl named, Katy Perry, the very next day
Licking it all up, before she shows her b-SiDE
Then screams to three, to come on back inside
Like snatching the America's Cup, with Ben Lexcen’s winning keel
While somewhere amongst the hills of Hollywood’s La La Land
Whole plates of food, just going to waste, inside never never, friggin Disneyland
While a starving homie, maybe, just ate his very last meal

A shout out, to all my southern conquistadors and homeward bound homie’s
Ignore all the Los Angeles doomsayers and Hollywood snapchat phoney's
Elevator doors always be jammin' and then coming to a closure
We all like a moment, of shy mouth miming, with very little exposure
From a worldwide hit or an Aussie Whispering Jack golden classic
From the sound of a crackling frisbee, made from nothing,
but pure black plastic

Licking soda-pops over a long hot summer holiday
Kissing a girl named, Katy Perry, the very next day
Licking it all up, before she shows her b-SiDE
Then screams to three, to come on back inside
Like snatching the America's Cup, with Ben Lexcen’s winning keel
While somewhere amongst the hills of Hollywood’s La La Land
Whole plates of food, just going to waste, inside, never never, friggin Disneyland
While a starving homie, maybe, just ate his very last meal.
Mark Oct 2019
Jammin’ along to riffs by, Sister Tharpe and Robert Johnson,
You could only tell the difference, if a spotlight shone upon each one.
For one was going to heaven, the other, all the way to hell.
But, while they picked at their guitars the mobs would still yell.
They’d do a solo on a lead guitar, unheard of in those days;
Then be totally racistised once stepping out on the pavement.
No mention in the papers, because of the editor’s clan, da-far-right KKKs.
But, outrage and riots ensued, callin’ da end to all dat black enslavement.

Just sit back, take it easy and let those blues fill your shoes.
Let her just make y’all a little bit confused.
Ask her before or after, were you just abused?
Either way, if your spirit was amused, she’ll be excused.

Been scooting across mid town and even to easy beat street.
Tripping lights out and seen both colored folks, along the way.
Gettin’ some to enter my mobile studio, I call ‘Da Jam in da Van’!
Because, it’s not for just any ole cotton pickin’ southern bred fan.
So, come inside, switch it on, then ******* off my feet.
I’ll sign you on the spot, if you purr like a cool cat or a certain sort of stray.

Just sit back, take it easy and let those blues fill your shoes.
Let her just make y’all a little bit confused.
Ask her before or after, were you just abused?
Either way, if your spirit was amused, she’ll be excused.

The here and now, is where the blues are fully infused.
Not from era’s gone past or from some distant future.
You can’t find it in a library, you can’t teach her;
You won’t see it in a theory, you won’t solve her;
You shan’t catch it in a harness, you shan’t trap her.
Once gotten, never forgotten, you’ll never ever, lose her.

Just sit back, take it easy and let those blues fill your shoes.
Let her just make y’all a little bit confused.
Ask her before or after, were you just abused?
Either way, if your spirit was amused, she’ll be excused.
Mark Oct 2019
Take the color out, from even the darkest of cotton blues.          
Then you’d enjoy it, without any innate bias or clues.          
From the railroad vagrant, without any degree;          
To purring cool cats, with a PhD.        
Hell! Go back to where you were born, your inner roots.    
All da way back, when you’d let dirt, get on those anti-racist boots.          
We listened when it pricked our ear, then the color of blue was swept away.
Then, just black and white, made us jive to the music, on that very special day.
Just a start of a poem or song lyrics. Any help or advice on this write, would be greatly appreciated.
Mark Oct 2019
I walk ‘n’ talk like a citizen, but feel like an American Alien.
I’m Canadian born, brought up by a Philadelphian.

Falling asleep at 3 AM, rising after noon
Instant fame and riches, happening way to soon.

Always being told to keep my head down;
On the road from town to town.
Pleasing the crowds, appeasing my manager.

Sometimes I think, I’m just riding shotgun.
If I ever broke my melody making,
crab claw pickin’ fingers
I’d be out on the street,
              ^^^
like all my other,
              ^^^
unfortunate *******.
Thx H, for this and that.
Mark Oct 2019
Born with prejudice, throw it all about  
By extracting color within the blues  
You’d all still enjoy it, no doubt  
Without any clues, you got nothin’ to lose  
The colors of blue, were made to be taken out  
Now listen again, with newborn ears  
Remember, you’d let dirt, get in and about  
Baby face baby face without any fears.  
  
Tired of racism, going on and about    
By liberating, we strike new tunes  
You’d all still enjoy it, no doubt  
Without any clues, you got nothin’ to lose  
The colors of blue, were made to be taken out  
Now listen again, with newborn ears  
Remember, you’d let dirt, get in and about  
Baby face baby face without any fears.  
 
All of society, from near to far about  
To all city slickers, outback folks or hippie communes  
You’d all still enjoy it, no doubt  
Without any clues, you got nothin’ to lose  
The colors of blue, were made to be taken out  
Now listen again, with newborn ears  
Remember, you’d let dirt, get in and about  
Baby face baby face without any fears.
Mark Oct 2019
Workin’ as a young one, during da cotton pickin’ days.
Tuning my ears into, da older siblings gospel ways.
Smokin’ a whole lotta dope, got me to here.
Drinking from early mornings on, got me to there.
Playing some slow guitar chords, gave me the blues.
Sleeping at night, always awakening, to more bad news.

This is my blues.
Purely undiluted.
Then distilled on down.
To its true purity.

I got a kind hearted women, no imitation
Who will not let me be, until one dies
As she pulled up to the cotton plantation
I looked at her, straight in the eyes
Spoke to her, with her full attention
I’m outta here, anything else, I forgot to mention?

This is my blues.
Purely undiluted.
Then distilled on down.
To its true purity.

Isn’t it at all, a bit sort of creepy.
Returning home, to da back swamps of Mississippi
The last song I had ever written.
Would be the death of me, once bitten
Now ain’t that a bit haunting.
I should’ve just read, the dire warning.

This is my blues.
Purely undiluted.
Then distilled on down.
To its true purity.
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