Resident Poets

That Car Song

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My mom died last year. She and I kinda wrote this song. We were talking on the phone and I wrote down some things she said. She spoke of a car of course and the conversation shifted to others in my family. In writing the song I threw in my wife’s green eyes.

The words so sound like my mother as I read them tonight. I have re-mixed this song to emphasize Andy Derryberry on guitar and bass. I rocked it up as best as my music can be rocked. For me the song is certainly American and sounds like a mother talking about her children. I can’t do my songs justice so they will be lost. It’s a shame on this one.

An artist cannot share the feelings for the art. Whether the world thinks its good or not, the artist feels like a father and mother to the art. It’s an intense feeling that no object deserves but it’s there. It’s there. An artist wants the art to survive, to not end up rotting in some garage or, in the case of music, disappearing completely. It’s not a small feeling.

I think of a place where all the lost objects are, an entropy collection place for all the lost pens, screws and things that disappear. In that giant pile of lost things is art.

Ah poems and songs. Songs don’t come easily for anybody. With poems you can roll your angst into a ball and throw it at the wall. Songs on the other hand only seem to come along occasionally like a drunk that demands liquor right then. They appear and they have to get out and then they are gone. I don’t know if there is another song because I have to wait for the train again. It’s not like a poem. These boxes constantly demand a poem and I deliver them like milk. With a song I have to wait for the train as I swear to never write another.

That Car

More from David

 
He really loves that car
He admired it from afar
He went down one day
and drove it away.
Oh he really smiled that day.
And he really loves that girl.
It’s a romance for all of the world.
They met one sunny afternoon
when the shadows were scattered just right.
She wore green to match her eyes
on that very very first night.
Yes he really loves that girl.
You can see them everywhere.
Cruising around town
having fun.
You can’t get them down
because they’re like one.
Oh they really love life.
They sip it like fine wine.
They are a shining star.
And they really love that car
They go everywhere.
yes they really love that car.
It’s red.
yes they really love that car.
I sure love them
and they really love that car.

david michael jackson july 20, 2012 editors@artvilla.com send origami

Clora Bryant and the Girls in the Band

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Features Clora’s great horn , voice and, oh yes, on piano, Roger Fleming, bassist Ben Tucker, and drummer Bruz Freeman, Walter Benton on tenor and trumpeter Normie Faye

Buy On Google Play

Clora Bryant Jazz

Clora Bryant

She toured with Billie Holiday, and she is the only woman trumpet player who ever recorded with Dizzy Gillespie and played with Charlie Parker.


The ladies haven’t finished their work. It’s still hard for a young lady to be properly recognized for talent with an instrument. We have to mention male names for reference to the trumpet, don’t we? I’m being harsh because it’s common for musicians to mention with whom they  played. It’s their resume.but these recordings show talent equal to Charlie and Dizzy. Where were her trips to Europe? To say  ladies like Clora and Marian McPartland were breaking ground is an understatement. It was more like concrete. It still is.

if you came here looking for an Wiki on Clora Bryant, here it is.
There is another place where anyone should be proud to be as well, Old Dominion University did this exhibition on Women in Jazz

Another place she is showing up is

THE GIRLS IN THE BAND  a film by One Step Productions  tells the “poignant, untold stories of female jazz and big band instrumentalists and their fascinating, groundbreaking journeys from the late 30′s to the present day.“

Here is an excellent article about  Clora by Judy Tweet  who has a new book called WOMEN WHO DARED

This is a very good interview with a great lady:

This sweet video shows the mentor:

 

Reasearch always turns up a surprise or two, like this poem for Clora by Professor McNair We like his panache whatever that it is. Did I say we? There I go again. There are just Tigger and me and these chickens.

We have decided, Tigger and I, that you want more music from more of the ladies in  this  blog starring  women featured in THE GIRLS IN THE BAND.

The Girls in the Band
 
Produced by Judy Chaikin, Michael Greene, Nancy Kissock. Executive producer, Greene. Co-producer, Hugh M. Hefner. Directed by Judy Chaikin. Written by Chaikin, Edward Osei-Gyimah

 

david michael jackson july 19,2012 editors@artvilla.com send caramel kisses

Fluorine poem by Janet Kuypers

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Fluorine

by Janet Kuypers

of Scars Publications
from the “Periodic Table of Poetry” series

Just got a postcard from my dentist
telling me it’s time to schedule
another dental appointment.
I thought about the fluoride toothpaste
I just changed to, and then
I wondered about water fluoridation,
the government adds fluoride
to public water supplies, you know,
to reduce tooth decay and hopefully
prevent cavities. Hmmm,
how much water would I have to drink
so I wouldn’t have to go to the dentist
so regularly?
Wait a minute, I just read that
for the fluoride to work, it has to remain
in contact with the teeth, so fluoride ions
that are swallowed won’t help.

Maybe I should just gargle with water more.

But fluoride is just one of the ionic compounds
of Fluorine, and I thought it was funny
when I found out that the name
for the mineral fluorite is derived
from the Latin word “flow”,
because it was added to metals
to make them flow.

Kind of like water, I suppose,
which we now add flourine to.

But you know, it’s not just teeth
that Fluorine can help…
I mean check this out,
Because of the stability
of the carbon-fluorine bond,
many drugs are fluoridated
to stop their metabolism
and prolong their half-lives
(I always wondered how they made
time-release drugs work..)
And now over twenty percent
of commercial drugs use Fluorine.
I mean, scientists have even used
the radioactive isotope fluorine-18
when performing PET scans —
and it’s amazing that liquid fluorocarbons
can hold gas in solution,
and can even hold
more oxygen and carbon
that our own blood…

Wow, I didn’t realize
how useful Fluorine was
for helping humans out.

But the thing is,
Fluorine’s actually really toxic,
some isotopes are used for insecticides,
and Fluorine attacks the eyes,
lungs, liver and kidneys,
and Hydrofluoric acid
is a pretty nasty contact poison.
Chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs)
have even been strictly regulated
through international agreements
for fear of our environment
and the depletion of the Ozone…
I mean, the U.S. Government
even has a slew of signs
for the dangers of this element:
It’s a toxic gas.
It’s corrosive.
It’s an inhalation hazard.
(wait a minute,
I thought it was so good for me,
how can it also be so bad?)

So too much of Flourine
in the right way
can be devastating for you,
and in other ways
it can help your bones
or help your medication.
Fascinating. I guess this is another way
we have learned to take
the bad with the good
(or is it that we have learned
to take the good out of the bad?).

Maybe I won’t start to gargle with water
because of the Fluorine,
and maybe I should just deal
with everyone’s inherent fear
of the dentist, and just go,
and come out of it
with cleaner teeth
for the next six months…

Them Rebs That Gold Poem

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Music by Andy Derryberrry

Sugar Camp Hollow
by David Jackson
We were raised in Sugar Camp Hollow
on Passenger Creek
where them reb soldiers camped it is
said
and the confederate gold is buried there
or so the story goes

and I knew you there
and you and I both knew
to leave those grounds
where the small creek meets Passenger.
We both knew to leave
those grounds
before dark
You and I
shared the secrets of Sugar Camp Hollow,
them rebs,
that gold.

The neighbor Simpson
told the tale,
his skinny fingers
waving, pointing to that
spot where the springs
flow to create that
small
creek
that place
where dreams are
formed.

A poem for you
tonight
Sugar Camp Hollow
Passenger Creek,
them rebs,
that gold,

and I pause beside this spring
of remembrance

this moment is
a thin stream of water
flowing
from a tiny spring
somewhere