After listening to Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue

[moritric]

After listening to Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue

When I'm on the prowl for a holy man,
I prefer a poker face who seduces
faith with his gravely coo , knows when to draw in
and then blows blue, humbles my flustered clock,
mums the ahh uhh hum with a staccato shrug,
until I'm guileless and blushing. I kick off
the clickety clacks, unclip the garters, inch
each stocking down.


(revision1)
After listening to Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue

When I'm on the prowl for a holy man,
I prefer a poker face who seduces
faith with his gravely coo , knows when to draw in
and then blows blue, humbles my flustered clock,
mums the ahh uhh hum with a staccato shrug,
until I'm guileless and blushing. I kick off
the clickety clacks, unclip the garters, inch
each stocking down.

All blue
thumbs giddy, don’t know what he’ll do
next. Mushroom the tempo, tingle an old scar
and coax the fever in my pocket? How quickly he cools,
and just as soon dares through the spiral and brawls
the iciest alone.

I’m a burn, shower house full force and cold smacked ,
hurled into the pit of his bluest pause,
where the floor plummets into the floor below,
and I’m a tangle of bruises. Horns and knots engage
my poison filled head, and the moldy cherubs
flitting around my shoulders worry.
I scan and then press into the perimeter
of his blue stroke. Clutch the next bass line --
a tremble of melancholy awaits
his modulation of scales
to sink into the sponge of my blue
ears.

After listening to Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue

If I were to stumble upon a red striped zootsuit,
a holy man who swaggers a limp, chitchats with halfwits,
bikers, politicians-- allergic to their own pee.
A highbrow whose handshake jerks the jerks to their knees
while haggling the price of holy water, a sparkle
santizer, that they may gaze into his god
gazing back.
I’d swallow some glue, my mouth shut
like a glossy puck,
and I wouldn’t roll my eyes
and laugh or taunt him until he sputters and turns blue,
the way discrete judges do,
chokes to death
from my smirk.
Branded the whore
who murdered the holy-moly,
I hate when that happens.

Even if he's marked with a boil on his dick, teeth so rotted
they’d rot my teeth, too
(I don’t need an Ali Baba
to grant three wishes, Hell ! I’d only wish for more,
I’d never be full.) offers up a whip
because I need a good pruning, I'd follow him
with the rest of the hooligans and royalty,
slinging a razor strap,
my fat ass, plump thighs and back, bloody black
and blue
enough to enter heaven,
I wouldn’t balk… right away.

Although, when I prowl for a holy man,
I prefer a poker face who seduces
faith with his gravely coo , knows when to draw in
and then blows blue, humbles my flustered clock,
mums the ahh uhh hum with a staccato shrug,
until I'm guileless and blushing. I kick off
the clickety clacks, unclip the garters, inch
each stocking down.

All blue
thumbs giddy, don’t know what he’ll do
next. Mushroom the tempo, tingle an old scar
and coax the fever in my pocket? How quickly he cools,
and just as soon dares through the spiral and brawls
the iciest alone.

I’m a burn, shower house full force and cold smacked ,
hurled into the pit of his bluest pause,
where the floor plummets into the floor below,
and I’m a tangle of bruises. Horns and knots engage
my poison filled head, and the moldy cherubs
flitting around my shoulders worry.
I watch his ears wiggle,
scan and then press into the perimeter
of his blue stroke. Clutch the next bass line --
a tremble of melancholy awaits
his modulation of scales
to sink into the sponge of my blue
skin.

[mikblack]

engaging poem and enough colorful metaphors to make any word lover salivate. (I did) I felt that some of the energy was forced later in the first third of the poem, but started to pick up by the center so this reader coasted through to the end. It was a pleasure.
Best, Kathryn

[moritric]

Dear mikblack, Thanks so much for your comments. Where did you feel the poem lacked steam? I feel the same way about it but I can't figure it out. I'm ready to chop this up if need be, sooo. if you have any suggestions, I'd be thrilled to receive them.

love,
brenda

[Sharon Bullard]

Holy cow! This is some powerful writing that grips and tugs at the soul of the reader! At least for me it did.
I thought the piece kept its momentum throughout! Not at all sure where it would need any changes...


hugs!
Sharon

[moritric]

Dear Sharon, thanks so much for reading and commenting on my poem. Much appreciated.

love,
brenda

[JazzSkaa]

I've read this a few times and wanted to comment
but couldn't find the right words. I love the title. I bet the music
placed the author into a space where thoughts splash keyboards
like saxophones racing modes. The first stanza is a disjointed
picture of someone. The mind tries to make Miles fit, but
like Miles, classification is two steps behind.
To my ear, the poem is sometimes rough, "allergic to pee",
"I hate when that happens", but I sense this is a first take,
with little editing. Japanese watercolour, the colour of a moment,
kind of blue kind of poem.

[moritric]

Dear jazz, thanks so much for your comments. S 1 and 2 have nothing to do with Miles. they are just holy men one might meet on the way to my true holy which in this case is S3 Miles and his music. Perhaps I should eliminate stanzas 1 and 2 and just allow my listening of Kind of Blue to shine on its own.

yes, i will try that. thanks again for your time.

love,
brenda

[JazzSkaa]

It would be a shame to cut any of this
but that first stanza stands on its own.


After listening to Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue

When I'm on the prowl for a holy man,
I prefer a poker face who seduces
faith with his gravely coo , knows when to draw in
and then blows blue, humbles my flustered clock,
mums the ahh uhh hum with a staccato shrug,
until I'm guileless and blushing. I kick off
the clickety clacks, unclip the garters, inch
each stocking down.

[moritric]

Dear Jazz, yes, perhaps, that's all I need. thanks for finding the heart of the poem.

love,
brenda

[sonoranpoet]

Brenda!
yes I love it as it is in it's short form...LOVE IT! ....can I put it in for the September Noms for IBPC
p.m. me w/ it if you want it to go in the nom thread for Sept.

S.