Monday, June 15th, 2009...10:36 am

roger singer | a storm of force & we sing & slide and slap

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Betty Carter & John Hicks December 4, 1976 | Photo: Mark Weber

A STORM OF FORCE

She is an army. A storm of force.
Pain builds the voice of song;
cellophane collapsing,
tires on gravel.

From the stage. A space
conquered. Faces merge in
tides of swaying shoulders.
Warm eyes hold her; strangers
offer hope to her loss.

A song within her; blood beating
with life. The muse of shadows
cradles her hunger. She breathes
to sing; bonds broken, links
Formed. Lights dims with
respect.

Smokey Wilson 1978 | Photo: Mark Weber

WE SING

I can’t take the
alone of
trembling breaths stirred
within me.

The dark side of the blues
sticks the
head of pain into my
chest;
like a flower of weakness,
I wilt from
sorrow.

Hurt from the well
of things
gone bad, licks at me;
wounds never healed,
smile open.

Rooms shadowed. An
unmade bed.
Curtains damp from a
new rain. Unopened mail.
Dishes wait for
water.
The blues done got me
rich with flavor;
holding my hand
we sing.

Charlie Haden January 26, 1981 | Photo: Mark Weber

SLIDE AND SLAP

His fingers slap like an angry
lover;

aaaaaaadigging in the truth,
aaaaaaapeeling from the eyes
aaaaaaaan image of him.

The bass man plays with strong
arms, dripping sweat from
his life blood of aroma;

aaaaaaahis hair drips wet
aaaaaaafrom jazzy thoughts
aaaaaaawashed clean
aaaaaaawith old pain
aaaaaaaand new tears.

The slide and slap of his fingers
keeps an angry devil waiting;
he laughs at days falling to night,
where dreams of death
chase him down long hallways;

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