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

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

like oxygen

image

there is no crime in compassion
no weakness in genuine
gentleness
though one must use one’s head
(pearls before swine and all that).

many stop short of acts of kindness
for fear of appearing
ridiculous.

that is a pity.

so many are lost in loneliness
because loving deeds are left undone
kind words left unsaid
and letters written
then tossed aside
left for dead.

this is a pity.

we must love to live
a life worth living
love is like oxygen.

so be ridiculous –
every now and then
be your absolute
self
the one we’re taught to
hide and deny

that part that is
our inner child:
surprisingly insightful
innocently tender and kind.

© 2016 threegoodwords

overflow

image

lay me down
accept this offering
two to the one beyond
what is thought to be known

where grace is given
where light is hidden
amongst stars
legion
dusted on the endless black

lay me down
let the only sound
ring beyond all
that is known to one
and another

where time is no more
than the essence
flowing over
lapping on the shore
of all our senses, one

giving, living
knowing
one to all, all to one
like water flowing
glowing, bright
curved against the diamond black
breaking the rays
of the brightest sun
our morning star.

© 2016 threegoodwords

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