Bobby to Gene

Had a spine tapping inclination to play something that would flow like butter melting on the homely roasting harmony of solitude

Relaxation raved inside rocked in the hammock of satisfaction to a soul-jazz seducer
Bobby Caldwell
'What you won't do for love '
in A major

merging my energy into synergy with the entity
and where I had languished in the lounge of memories today i found tranquillity immersed in the melody

I'd been so warm and complacent at the fireplace of yesteryears until the smoke of a haze of decades had cleared
Ashes seared within wrinkles elapsed like roman road maps and winds trapped in shutters of skin flaps hoarding the pains tribulations and fears
buried under eyelids in the perspex of tears and a grey beard


But the transience of time harmonises storylines
and from the late 70s
among Bobby's rhymes 
" my friends wonder what is wrong with me"
coasted
I soulfully synchronised
Anaesthetised

and instinctively realised that today had left eras behind
living forever in the side pockets of our minds
in naked
unprecocious
Idealistic  joy

from when I was a boy

The yawn of a new dawn came over me
It's been so long

And the purge in the song urged me to move on to one of similar character
inseperable calibre
Eleven bpm faster though it's not about the data
'Does she have a friend for me
by Gene Chandler'
is just a banger


as ageless yet ripe as the pied piper
and my lungs opened to exhale
embracing the ensemble of elements
hurling the lyrics at four walls between self and the border to ecstacy
and the walls threw back a full onslaught of  debris
i.e despair and darkness concreted with harshness

And the bricks and the mortar splashed off me like cloudless rain from the filament of hurricanes

My voice a sonic boom of many moons so loud they brightened the room
and everything jumped in
starting with always dancing with the rhythm in your melanin

With nothing to lose I was now singing away the blues
surpassing the urge to purge
I merged and re-emerged
reborn re-armed, re-energised
charmed
by the multidimensional transition of high smiles in closed eyes
wide awake in a dream
humming in the highest skies
wading the stream that leads from 
The bay of Bobby Caldwell to the Waterfalls of Gene
A route as rooted as the twin towers of heart and soul

The 3rd dimension awoke charging a
choke through the tunnel of my throat
My spirit leapt across
the moat to the
shell of its dome in this Truman show all of our own
unconventionally making the universe my home
My happiness homegrown
irrespective of our subliminal muriels
restorative to peace

There and then
a wave had erupted inside as though tectonic plates of fate had decided to ever so subtly slide
Inside I cried
exposed in the overflow of a puddle bulging from the lower lids of my eyes 

Transformed from the aged forlorn to a new norm
touching life like I'd been saved by the nice christ
twice

I realised that eventually
the elusive reality would be
that the exclusive key
to my emancipation
was inevitably me

So why wouldn't I suggest
that you give it a try
Gene chandler
Does she have a friend
Spotify


"Ask her, ask her"