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BLUE WIND

TRIBUTE TO GREGG ALLMAN

written by: TM DiSarro

@tmdisarro

 

South rising in a blaze
Of rock and blues
Jazz infused
Controlled chaos
July summer's haze
Filmore East 1971
Journey into Eden
And back again
Remembering the sound
So fine and so new
For it remembers you
Alive as a mystic serpent
Stretching into waves
Calling you to enter
With your tickets in hand
Inhibitions left outside
Stepping through the door
You ride a train with a blues heart
On tracks like veins twisting
Through battlefields and greenfields
The dead and the living
With flowers by the score
Picking up sounds along the way
As passengers
As voices
As Instruments
Melding memories
Against a backdrop of change
Pumping out a life force
And energy of moments
Spinning its tail through
Floodlights and mist
Leading all who follow
With ears open
And minds blown
Inside the venue
Auroras born of southern skies
Rain down colors
As magic and gentle madness
In the form of musicians
Center stage
Two drummers pump heart beats
Pounding out perfect syncopation
Razor lead guitars
As teeth from dragons
One cuts and bends
One grinds and slides
Across boundaries
Above and beyond
The space of conformity
Slicing through lines
Where rock becomes
Something new
And concepts of sound
Transcend the usual
While bass lines weave intricate
Patterns of perception
Drawing you into
The deeper things of the soul
As the Hammond organ
Calls the faithful to worship
In new ways
Feeding the hungry ones
Who get the message in the music
And finally that voice
Weathered and wonderful
Raspy and soulful
Piercing through a magnificent
Wall of sound
Taking us on a journey
Past
Present
And future
Cutting through the fog
Of nights
Of lights
Of hands held high
Now gone but not forgotten
Buried between the grooves
Of an LP record
Inside the digital 
Blood drops of eternity
Timeless as the sound
Rising as the south
In the mind
Of a newborn

 

©2017 TM DiSarro/ MindScapesPublishing

 

 

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
From the collection: ILLUMICAT

Photography by Peter Yang

TM DiSarro

TM DiSarro

I do not consider myself a writer but I love to write. Neither a poet but I love poetry. I steal bits and pieces of time to scratch out ideas on note books, laptops and cell phones. I live and work in Florida fabricating custom canvas and other fabric products and sometimes costumes.
TM
TM DiSarro

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