The Blues Part III

Blues are the crush you can’t have.

The orange without juice,

Summer without sun.

The Blues close your eyes,

And tunnel down your throat to the bottom of your tub,

It scrapes the edges clean, until you moan and ache. ache

Ache…

 

Blues paint Picasso’s beauty,

Sing Ray Charles’ melodies,

Makes a grown man cry.

The Blues are the most human thing about us.

 

The bird whose lost its baby to a bully of a wind,

Could never chirp the blues,

No fly squished on the window,

Hooked fish,

No blood cell.

 

I walk into a speakeasy,

When the times are tough.

I let the bartender serve me a stiff drink,

And after awhile, I let him pull an overcoat over my back.

Because the Blues are caring,

The blues know sadness,

Better than an astronomer sees the stars.

Advertisements

Reply Button

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s