news:2a0454a7-fa86-41f4-b355-3bda0e545128@googlegroups.com...
Will Dockery wrote:
I wouldn't mind at all if you posted a link to your songs here, Nate,
you've
got some good music that deserves to be heard, and there are several good
listeners left here.
OKAY Will:
http://xongsmith.webs.com/nate.html, then follow up on the Reverbnation
links there.
- nate
----------------------------------------------------------------
news:sp2atatjpl52ngo2ajq7d0v9rm8b107aqd@4ax.com...
"Will Dockery"<will_dockery@outlook.com> wrote:
Poem Twelve in the "17 Poems" series:
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word
a fact of life
sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before
I will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below
shifts and flows
from this dizzy height.
It's hard to see anything
in the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
As always, useful comments & constructive criticism welcomed, trolls will >> >be
ignored.
i dont like that one
news:ea9c2d99-e9be-401b-9bee-4387022693a2@googlegroups.com...
Will Dockery wrote:
Some background on this thread. The "Yellow Notebook Series" was a series
of sketch poems written in the Jack Kerouac Blues style, which he would
write in the little spiral note pads that fit in the shirt pocket. Here's
an excerpt of his explanation of these, and following that, a few of my
efforts in the form, which continue through this thread, with added
commentary for the Regulars of the day. Enjoy. :D
"In my system, the form of blues choruses is limited by the small page of
the breastpocket notebook in which they are written, like the form of a
set number of bars in a jazz blues chorus, and so sometimes the
word-meaning can carry from one chorus into another, or not, just like the >> phrase-meaning can carry harmonically from one chorus to the other, or
not, in jazz, so that, in these blues as in jazz, the form is determined
by time, and by the musicians spontaneous phrasing & harmonizing with the
beat of time as it waves & waves on by in measured choruses." -Jack
Kerouac
Yello Notebook Series by Will Dockery
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Massive collection of greatness......
news:f9a9c3f4-f9c9-405e-82b5-34f6cefcfb50@googlegroups.com...
Will Dockery wrote:
I certainly understand, I'm too much of an egomaniac to use anything but
my real name... plus I need folks to come to shows, buy CDs, all that,
🙂
i'm in the same boat!!
- nate
"Akmar Raggyhead" wrote in message
news:sp2atatjpl52ngo2ajq7d0v9rm8b107aqd@4ax.com...
"Will Dockery"<will_dockery@outlook.com> wrote:
Poem Twelve in the "17 Poems" series:
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word
a fact of life
sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before
I will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below
shifts and flows
from this dizzy height.
It's hard to see anything
in the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
As always, useful comments & constructive criticism welcomed, trolls will >>> >be
ignored.
i dont like that one
Oh well, maybe the next poem.
🙂
Will Dockery wrote:
"Akmar Raggyhead" wrote in message
news:sp2atatjpl52ngo2ajq7d0v9rm8b107aqd@4ax.com...
"Will Dockery"<will_dockery@outlook.com> wrote:
Poem Twelve in the "17 Poems" series:
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word
a fact of life
sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before
I will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below
shifts and flows
from this dizzy height.
It's hard to see anything
in the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
As always, useful comments & constructive criticism welcomed, trolls will >>>> >be
ignored.
i dont like that one
Oh well, maybe the next poem.
Ha ha...!
"nate" wrote in message
news:f9a9c3f4-f9c9-405e-82b5-34f6cefcfb50@googlegroups.com...
Will Dockery wrote:
I certainly understand, I'm too much of an egomaniac to use anything but >>> my real name... plus I need folks to come to shows, buy CDs, all that,
🙂
i'm in the same boat!!
- nate
Again, long time no see, Nate.
I hope you are doing well.
Again, this is probably also a good time to direct anyone interested to the start
of this thread, since it only picks up here at the point that JD Chase responded, and I added this newsgroup so he'd find my "Thanks".
So... here's a link to the first post, where the "17 Poems" of the title can be read:
https://groups.google.com/d/msg/alt.arts.poetry.comments/NVHr0FXaSnw/EbFr_MkQQ7kJ
And, again, to set the stage, and/or to help readers decide if it seems worth the
trouble, here's my introduction to the poetry:
Some background on this thread. The "Yellow Notebook Series" was a series of sketch poems written in the Jack Kerouac Blues style, which he would write
in the little spiral note pads that fit in the shirt pocket. Here's an excerpt of his explanation of these, and following that, a few of my efforts in the form, which continue through this thread, with added commentary for the Regulars of the day. Enjoy.
"In my system, the form of blues choruses is limited by the small page of
the breast pocket notebook in which they are written, like the form of a set number of bars in a jazz blues chorus, and so sometimes the word-meaning can carry from one chorus into another, or not, just like the phrase-meaning can carry harmonically from one chorus to the other, or not, in jazz, so that,
in these blues as in jazz, the form is determined by time, and by the musicians spontaneous phrasing & harmonizing with the beat of time as it waves & waves on by in measured choruses."
-Jack Kerouac
Yellow Notebook Series by Will Dockery: https://groups.google.com/d/msg/alt.arts.poetry.comments/NVHr0FXaSnw/EbFr_MkQQ7kJ
And so it goes.
🙂
Will Dockery wrote:
"nate" wrote in message
news:f9a9c3f4-f9c9-405e-82b5-34f6cefcfb50@googlegroups.com...
Will Dockery wrote:
I certainly understand, I'm too much of an egomaniac to use anything but >>>> my real name... plus I need folks to come to shows, buy CDs, all that, >>>>
🙂
i'm in the same boat!!
- nate
Again, long time no see, Nate.
I hope you are doing well.
Again, this is probably also a good time to direct anyone interested to the start
of this thread, since it only picks up here at the point that JD Chase
responded, and I added this newsgroup so he'd find my "Thanks".
So... here's a link to the first post, where the "17 Poems" of the title can >> be read:
https://groups.google.com/d/msg/alt.arts.poetry.comments/NVHr0FXaSnw/EbFr_MkQQ7kJ
And, again, to set the stage, and/or to help readers decide if it seems worth the
trouble, here's my introduction to the poetry:
Some background on this thread. The "Yellow Notebook Series" was a series of >> sketch poems written in the Jack Kerouac Blues style, which he would write >> in the little spiral note pads that fit in the shirt pocket. Here's an
excerpt of his explanation of these, and following that, a few of my efforts >> in the form, which continue through this thread, with added commentary for >> the Regulars of the day. Enjoy.
"In my system, the form of blues choruses is limited by the small page of
the breast pocket notebook in which they are written, like the form of a set >> number of bars in a jazz blues chorus, and so sometimes the word-meaning can >> carry from one chorus into another, or not, just like the phrase-meaning can >> carry harmonically from one chorus to the other, or not, in jazz, so that, >> in these blues as in jazz, the form is determined by time, and by the
musicians spontaneous phrasing & harmonizing with the beat of time as it
waves & waves on by in measured choruses."
-Jack Kerouac
Yellow Notebook Series by Will Dockery:
https://groups.google.com/d/msg/alt.arts.poetry.comments/NVHr0FXaSnw/EbFr_MkQQ7kJ
And so it goes.
Interesting back story
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