Pearly
It was at dusk,
I stood on a dock and looked at the stillness of a Cold Canadian lake,
I breathed like autumn leaves,
Breaths of gold..and brown...red like a distant Harvest Moon
When a late mist crossed the water I thought I saw my soul
Fallen leaves floated passed the dock
They spelled my childhood name in brown and gold, the water a near red
My wool coat kept me warm, but I knew when the night falls, the cold would be too great
By morning the lake could freeze and the leaves could be frozen in ice,
My misty soul could skate away to be free,
I returned to the cottage. I listened to the warm laughter of old logs,
The space in between let in a cool air against the pearly fireplace
I heard the whisper of my dreams
I fell asleep to the breath of autumn leaves
I awoke to Harvest a misty morning soul...on the ice of a Canadian lake

Remains
My old leather boots will always tell
The story of a dusty western night,
Under the dryness of desert stars, I walk into a ghostly saloon
A shroud of a crazy name made for me: Lady Apparition
A room empty of human hearts
The Last of drifting smoke floats along air
Fallen Cigarette ash covers a rough hue floor
My boot's worn rubber heels take me to the bar
I spin the top of a three leg stool,
Counterclockwise, it turns as an old album,
Like a warped vinyl with a warbling sound; beatified by a scratchy diamond ring
My face plays a one man wanderer on a dusty mirror
Lady Apparition, pour me a five dollar glass of  dry red wine
Instead she pours me a glass of five dollars of her time
She says all her life she chases after shame
Hollow, callus men who cruise and bruise her midnight soul
The drugs and heartache
Near death, the loneliness cries at a saint's fallen gate
I ask her name
She returns with a nameless smile
I said she's like a shiny link in a rusty chain
Lady Apparition disappears into clouds of smoke, ashes are her remains
I drink from the last glass of time
My old leather boots always tell
The end of the story of five dollar remains

The Walk
I walk outside
A cemetery in the distance.
I approach the dying gate, where the air is thin
Where the blood flows fast, but the heart beats low
The twilight is near, before the sun dies against the maddening moon
I walk past the dying gate
Up the long maple tree hill
In the near darkness I've come to read words
Flashes of narrow light along carved  granite stone
I read the date of birth, the date of death
Like an eternal magician I try to raise a soul, free it from the moon's fate
But I hear a raven's cry,
I imagine it swooping hidden by the darkness
The soul does not rise,
My heart feels low
I walk the distance
Not certain if the cry of darkness will lead me home

Grounder
I pedal a bike as old as a memory,
To a time when I was as the wind
When I coasted down a summer lane
I pedal along a sandy diamond,
Where young boys play ball
I hear the crack of a bat
I wave eternal dust from my eyes,
I taste chalky clouds on my lips
We boys run hard along base lines
Throw a ball from outside
Field grounders
Argue over fouls, balls and strikes, safe or out
A hero climbs a pitcher's mound
Wheels go by
When twilight comes, the ball is hidden by the sky
The muscles are worn
We boys pedal our bikes,
The gloves hang over handle bars
The strongest rests the bat atop his shoulder
In the weary race against darkness we ride home
Tomorrow is another game against time
And I wonder sometimes what is the fate of those lives
Like shifting gears of a boy's bike
Years go by

Brahms
I'll meet you outside Symphony Hall
Where the violins play
Where a prodigy touches white keys
Where a conductor dances batons as sharp as needles
Where silver haired men in bespoke suits carry front row tickets and lead the hands of mink draped women in strapless dresses
Where they huddle, then move through open oak doors nearly as old as the day Mozart slumped into a pauper's grave
I'll meet you outside Symphony Hall
But in the hours past the evening performance
When the paupers come out of their graves
I'll meet you by the musicians' entrance
I got your call
You're a junkie now,
Since Julliard, when they said you were the next Stern
When you raised the soul of Brahms with your violin
When you stuck pathway needles of melted white junk into your veins
I'll meet you outside Symphony Hall, again
This time is different, again
When you'll give up the junk, again
Get off the streets
Start to play once more
You just need one more fix, you need money and sugared sweets
I'll meet you by the musicians' entrance
And give you the money, give away the strung out sweets and listen to your beggared story
Because, why?
Because I hear the crying souls of Brahms and Stern in your last, dying voice, again.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oykarLuFoS8

It Happened 
When you left me, I broke.
I shattered like brittle old glass--
Breaking on a hard wood floor
Shards cutting the bottom of my naked feet,
Not too deep,
Just little streaks of a man's blood,
Alone I sat on my saggy powder blue couch with old whiskey stains
I twisted my foot sideways on my knee and took tweezers and pulled out the broken glass
Small tears rolled down my cheeks, and rested on my bottom lip and tasted like salty whiskey stains
I called my friend Eddy and told him another girl left me
He asked if brittle glass broke on a hard wood floor and if its shards bloodied my naked feet.
I said, Yeah
He said: I hate when that happens

Rock 'n' Roll Star
Once I was a rock 'n' roll star
With a blazin' guitar,
Lit by pulsing lights and a smokey stage
Blonde girls, Birds with flyin' wings
Risin' to hear me sing, to touch and feel my strings
Once I was a rock 'n' roll star
But only in an old boy's dreams

Now I have been reborn to jazz
The grace of Coltrane
The Spirit of Charlie Bird
The soulfulness of Miles
I am a Good Man now,
I embrace the beauty of jazz when I listen to its reverent sound
But when I sleep, I still dream I was a boy,
...and command every time...
Oh Jazz Man Masekala!! Play your South African Trumpet like a rock 'n' roll star. With my electric guitar we play loud to Byrds with flyin' wings!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMoop0rn780