that sound

solomon-burke-03 aretha franklin_3 james-brown_2

trumpets sound
smooth velvet
that bass, electric
plucking deep down
and you know
that particular voice
hot and warm
that’s lived real and long
will fill the silence
with earth-bound sound
all heart and soul
percussions slipping round
around, cresting raw
on the black/white keys
a sax peaking high
the chorus cheering on
vinyl spinning, gleaming
and suddenly the whole bus is singing
Don’t you know I’ve got to find me a home
right now in your heart?

and that rhythm
takes you right out of the blues.

god, that sound.
nothing beats that sound.

© 2016 threegoodwords

all the time

notebook 2

a heartbeat

where i wish i could be
several me’s all at once
not split up, not even clones
just me several times over
so i can:

read this
write that
tell that story
watch that movie
hear that interview, podcast, song
read that blog

and have enough time for

mindfulness, peace

but also

write that proposal
answer those emails
make that call
read that article
share that thought-piece
refresh that page
upload that pic
like that comment
double-check that tweet

without forgetting to

drink enough water
take time to cook
eat right
be right
have a slice of great pie
go jogging
stretch right
maybe yoga
maybe swim
go out with people
dance a bit
socialise

and know just enough

about fashion, movies
books, trends, scandals
cocktails and wine
to be in the know
fit in
stay in the flow
of what’s cool
(nobody says ‘vogue’ anymore)

but also have the time to

potato on the couch
netflix, pinterest, spotify

without forgetting to

make things
create things
grow things
be things

so many more things

that are mine and not mine
all at once
all the time
all the time
all the time
.

 

© 2016 threegoodwords

to a young(er) friend

underwater-by unsplash-1150045_1920

 

ok, let’s talk about it
that thing that disturbs so many

oh god, not again 
#sigh #rollseyes
though somewhere I read that
porn has become the new sex-ed

um, what?

i don’t even know what to think of that
where to start where to end
and, oh, the visuals
endless, endless
sunk deep into the web

which makes things so difficult
when the deed is actually to be done
because intercourse
depends on one thing a screen can’t provide
(not that people don’t try…)

bodies.
real bodies. alive.
living, breathing
actual people
humans
with skin and hands and mouths
personal scents and personal sounds.

touch. feeling.
such small words
doors to so many worlds.

#obvious I know
but think about it

a person’s presence
cannot be fast-forwarded
freeze-framed
clicked away
edited
photoshopped
or otherwise modified

not to mention their preferences
their pasts and presents
their hopes for the future
in unknown beds

that one moment in their lives
that can outlast all others for
hours, days
years on end
it all depends

on what actually happened.

there are infinite variations
like flowers and bees
and all the other species on the planet.
so let’s talk about it
that thing that disturbs so many

y’know
what needed to happen
for you to be here in the first place :D

oh my god TMI!!!

 

© 2016 threegoodwords

outsourced

coffee paris

we need to re-learn how to take care of each other
we have outsourced so much
even the care of those closest to us
those who were, once, beloved.

we have to re-learn how to take care of each other
to offer solace without fear
without plots of retribution
without vitriol and viciousness
but with that rare thing: kindness, gentleness, sincerity.

why has that become so rare?
why is that not something we can expect
why is it the exception, rather than the rule?
a lot has come to my attention recently
about those left outside, alone, ‘to the winds’
freezing with a body warm
utterly lost with Google Maps uploaded.

we have un-learned the language of emotion
we can no longer speak of love without deconstruction
without cynicism and scoffing
we have no vocabulary to articulate the sublime
that allowed a poet, once, to stand on a bridge
and hail the sun, the sky, an entire realm.

we have lost that primal sound of succour
that beating-drum directness that reaches heart and soul
deep down into the darkest parts of the human condition
breaking through the man-made clouds with a ray of
sublime light that others of less sophisticated times
would have called divine.

we need to learn again
this language of love
langue, parole, signifier, signified
all meanings together, wrapped into each other
used in all languages known to man, woman, child
even if they were once warped by Barbara Cartland.

(and so what for the lace and corsets
so what for the gentlemen in bespoke suits
leaving their card at the door?
they have their place in the joyous abandon of make-believe.)

does that lessen the value of a warm hug, a sweet embrace?
that moment where you come together
with someone who is genuinely lonesome
and needs that one thing you can give, freely:
solace, comfort
peace.

©2016 threegoodwords

questions asked

image

Q:
Are we really taught
to understand
what it means to grow?
And why up?
Why not down?
Like down to earth and down payment
such adult little things
where you’re suddenly the one saying
“Keep it down” to the kids.

I mean, so many questions
are left unasked
until the envelopes arrive
stamped and signed
asking, demanding
most politely
for you to sign off
your right to be alive.

A:
Well, child
What am I to say?
We’re all just muddling along
doing our best to stay warm
be happy
and avoid strife.
That’s what it’s all about
this thing called life.

So be warm
stay happy
and when faced with
a hitch, a turbulance
a bona fide forest fire
fix it
fight it
ride it out.

It is, after all, your life.

© 2016 threegoodwords

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