[05] Consequences > Blues To You |
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Song Of Praise
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Saturday, 14 January 2006 07:59 |
Consequences
The music moves inside my self, I mean I feel saxophones in- side my meat, a force in- spiring that meat to sing pure electricity. Flashes. Scream,
Move out from the wall of your self. Out from there, Now, or you stay there. What you thought that man was screaming, that he wanted to get inside you. You, again, like some stupid broken record.
The music moves inside, & stays there. A part of what you are. & NOT from. But the song of meat energy burning to come through you. In charge. & that energy makes its way. Yes, shapes it, & is in charge. In, goddamnit, IN the meat, and of it. Yes,
yes, yes. A firming it. And where you can go to find that one place, I mean it is the meat. And the song that moves that self, & shapes it, ah, ah,
well yes it does
detroit december 20, 1966
"blues to you"
for danny spencer
we wanted them to love us, as a first term. to know that we knew, & would tell them with our eyes, & our pumping feet. would sit & stare
at the bandstand or at each other, & grin. or get up from the chair & walk smack into a pole after 45 minutes of elvin jones. john coltrane
was a hero beyond legend, i mean he was right there in front of us, right there where we could see him, & know for ever the whole thing was real.
or sit for days, literally days, & play the records through our meat, & dream of touching them, the musicians, as they walked off the stand, & moved past us,
smiling, toward some secret place we would never go. & loved them always for a simple nod, as if we were really real. we needed them to speak to us
of pure revolution. to put down their saxophones & spout pure poetry, or our lives weren't shit. were gobs of dream splattered against the world.
oh we were young & made of america. it made us what we were. & are. &, if we are lucky, we will live through it all. yes, & the music
will ring in our ears. & we will hear it, & it will bring us through. we will wake up singing of a world of our own. a world
where they will love us, just as if (& only if) we are as real as they are
detroit january 3, 1967/ new orleans december 22, 1993
from Song of Praise: Homage to John Coltrane
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