tied off

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tied off

Miles clicking valves pleasing smokey eyes gazing through the haze 
rolling back into oblivion.
While Coltrane plays my heart to sleep with melodies of clouds swirling 
in the wind.
And Charlie Parker, 
would just, play , his ass off.
Young jazz musicians would have done anything to play like Bird.
Soaring through solos with the simplicity of wings gliding on their own updrafts.
Notes hurled through cloudy rooms to paint dreams with inspiration.
Improvisation tapping time to get the bubbles to rise to the top.
Never cautious of spilling drops because sometimes, 
life could use a splash.
It was said to achieve the success that Bird enjoyed, you had to imitate him musically 
and otherwise.
This meant if you shot smack, 
you where viewed as,
Hip__,
Smooth__,
Jazz___.
It wasn’t enough to snort it. 
they became tired of sniffing solutions to sickness 
when it became clear that they needed a needle to get the point across.
Tapping the songs of souls to tie off the flow and add a little spice.
Just a few CC’s , to nod off shakes, will suffice.
Only using the inspiration they plunge into themselves.
Using only the inspiration they 
tap into their veins to ride red clouds swirling in liquid death 
to shoot life full of nodding heads.
This, 
is inspiration!
Inspired to abuse glass tubes to earn the flow from musical outlets to fill syringes with rolling brown outs and conserve the energy needed to re-up.
This, 
is inspiration!
Melodic symphonies conducted to ride a subway tube driven beneath the surface.
Traveling at banged speeds to be intertwined with life.
Keeping time with a nodding metronome.
This, 
is inspiration!
Killing life like a disease, 
infecting the purity of the soul.
To let go with inoculations providing immunizations to life.
Serums surging through catacombs
Intoxication limiting inhibitions,
allowing first thought their final destination.
The rawest of expressions. 
Finding diamonds in the dirt of a ruff life.
While dulling needles to tear into social acceptance 
for the piercing of life lines
These souls sacrificed self 
to saturate serenades with the bright shine 
of a finger covered smile 
Burning tips to build calluses to the outside world.
Injecting serums to draw out the depths of their souls
Needles puncturing blood clots ,
These holes ,dripping of creation.
So tie me off,and inspire me!





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Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

fragmentednoise’s Poems (11)

Title Comments
Title Comments
tied off 0
laid out 0
poets prayer 0
ode to jane 0
quotable 0
addicts alibi 2
field of clouds 0
silence is golden 0
ink spots 0
all she does 1
a twinkle in my eye 1