Friday, June 09, 2006


Barefoot on asphalt,
Another rainy night,
An empty cup, a fitting song,
I played for passers-by.

"It's midnight at the crossroads,
A six string by my side.
Come listen to the heartstrings
I play to ease my mind."

I wanted better songs.
I wanted better strings.
I begged and I received
A lesson from the master.

She came, and tapped my shoulder.
Three times she tapped. I stopped.
I gave her the guitar
And then, she gave to me

The heartstrings of the world
My fretboard strained to carry,
Put magic in my voice,
And fever in my fingers.

I couldn't keep it all
The tunes were way too much.
I played what I remembered
To more and more applause.

I got The fame and money
So fast, I thought it endless,
But one song's not enough
To keep applause forever.

And then I played for whisky.
My stage was three AM,
Where ugly women danced
For men with too much money.

In strip clubs and arenas
I saw the same blank faces;
Where once they came to listen
They come capture hope

With music of their youth,
But they won't find that here.
They'll only find their past
Reflecting on their future.

With a little less glamor
And a lot less cash,
They try to find the love
That music gave so freely.

They'll only find the harlot
Who taught me how to play.
I helped her raise the prices
and made the bounty less.

I'm now a little wiser.
I'd like to play for whisky;
It's cold, my jar is empty,
No money left for shine

I still play all the songs,
But no one likes the hits
They've heard a thousand times.
They all want something new.

I give them what they want:
A song they haven't heard,
The music of my youth
That sometimes pays for liquor

"It's midnight at the crossroads
A six string by my side
Come listen to the heartstrings
I play to ease my mind."


Orlando Maldonado said...

When you said there was a lot to read you weren't kidding. I read back to the beggining of the month before I realized I had to soon depart.

Today's piece, I continue to review. I am deaf to poetry, but if Helen Keller can learn to read and communicate, by god, I can learn to absolve poetry.

Mr. Jackson you are a fucking genius. You know you you are, but you don't saudomize people with it. I want to dig further into the labyrinth that is your mind, so you can expect me to keep reading.
I will refer others to your blogspot; I know there are those who would appreciate your work.

Orlando said...

Now it hit me!