Black Poetry : His Rhythm Gave Me The Blues


Well-Known Member
Mar 17, 2001
Minneapolis, MN
Director, Community Employment Strategies
There's always a kind of
that comes in between
our musical arrangement
of sentimental tones
and I'm
left vibrating
inside a pattern of
love's minor scale
--- with major lonliness --
his beats
keep changing tempo
frequencies of
an equal-tempered
scale have me
wrapped up inside
emotions that underscore
my hopes
of our closeness
~ our distance begins
to emulate
the sounds of
a shallow and hollow

The songs I play are
echoed through
the saddled soul
of an acoustic guitar
and my misery
has been the sheet music
that is organized
in open and closed intervals
for quite some time now...

For us --
those happier times were
written on a
staff of five lines ~
held high in octaves
of eighth notes
and on the kisses of
sharps and flats
but ~now
he's not listening
and I don't play
my guitar the same

.... sad ... slow
I can see
the emptiness of my
~ dancing
on the 4th fret of a 3rd string
and my fingers
strum -- numbness
as I sing the
painful song of
how his rhythm gave me
the blues


now that shouldn't be happening
they way some people start acting
think they macking
turn out to be more like a fatal attraction
then you send they *** packing
but now it's too late to start showing action

you know what i mean
when you got a queen
you got to provide the source and the means
make love to her like she's playing basketball and do a double-team
you know i mean

i mean anyway str8 up
a nig ah from the cut
can't possibly give a f-c- (you know what)
this ain't a game it is tough

so i bid farewell
til your next e-mail

peace from Da Streets



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