Tag: Art Blakey
Name Your Tune
Calling all the writers and artists out there.
Inquiring minds want to know
I am Curious?
What music do you enjoy listening to while you create?
Today was partly George Benson and now I’m grooving to Charles Mingus.
So many different ways of Moaning
While in the Jazz Realm I pay my respects to Thelonious Monk.
Now I gotta catch the Train. John Coltrane.
Secrets and Murders in the Blue Room
https://youtu.be/gfLVVHxk4IM
Secrets of the Blue Room
Magnificent Bed Chambers built for the Arousal of a King who never came. At least not in this bed. Many were the amusements of the Monarch. Well known for spreading his seed in every village, town and port of call. Awaiting his Majesty to Christen the springs in hopes of numerous heirs to the throne.
Though tis rumored that the Lord and Lady of the Original House were murdered in said bed. No Scarlet Pimpernel arrived for their rescue. For the mark of Zorro heralded their demise.
Two Old Grandfather Clocks Chime quarter hours slightly off sync in Church fashion of Call and Response
First Off I don’t know why they built and shipped such an ornate bed a blue monstrosity to this hot dank humid climate? The Humidity cloaks the atmosphere like a Misty Foggy blanket. These islands are just swamps inhabited by misery and strife. Trying to make good impressions long after the opportunity has passed.
The sheer fragility makes one hesitant to mix sweat and semen. The languid heat infuses already heavy air pushing aside lust in favor of a cook refreshing draft.
Rot and insects will have a better time conducting ultimate deconstruction within weak timbers. It’s untold comforts belie creakiness and stiff joints.
More of a Silky Satiny Blue Mausoleum than a Lovers Nest. A place for ravens and crows to pluck out the feathers, straw and hay hidden within the fancy done up mattress. No Scions of Industries conceived upon such extravagance and Luxury. Yet Musky aromas abound. Time Traveling Hobos and Vagabonds wander through the past occasionally sticking their heads out into the present. Shadows ache from moving sloth-like across the walls. Their progress impended lights and darkness.