Wednesday, July 06, 2011

hang back


didn't stay long for Ben Harper,
The Roots were enough for me tonight,
they gave me what I was missing,
what I needed,
rawest of funk, soul and blues,
amongst the weed clouds,
white stars,
city scape,
sandals,
dreadlocks,
and titty bouncing tank tops,

together but different we are,

the illusion of unity,

the reality of interdependence,

changing chords,
changing thoughts,
Questlove breaks the chain,
with heavenly hits on the piccolo snare,
I hang back and let the bass vibrate my supper,
and watch drunken boys try for drunken kisses,
from their distracted texting girls.






3 comments:

Old Ollie said...

props to Questlove

this should be the review in the paper

Poets United said...

You are skilled and finding poems out amidst the world.

Fisheye Lens said...

I missed an excellent triptych of lingual lyricism while out on the two-lane blacktop, Dox.

Sorry I missed Questlove banging it out with the Roots. I experienced something similar in Confederation Park last week -- Stanley and Jean-Luc trading sonic soliloquies under a setting sun, the cityscape silhouetted in the backlight.