1. |
The Reach
04:31
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The poet sings his sad song.
It is sadder than he knows.
And so it goes.
There is sadness in the reach to turn on the camera phone.
There is sadness in the hope inside the reach to turn on the camera phone.
And the hope inside his eyes begins to fade once he sees himself.
To hide the grey, adjust the hair
To hide the paunch, set the guitar there.
The poet sings his sad song.
It is sadder than he knows.
And so it goes.
And he sings: "Hugs and kisses and love have been weaponized."
And I say: Hugs and kisses and love have always been weaponized.
He does not look me in the eye.
The poet sings his sad song.
And there is sadness in the silence when the song ends.
And there is sadness as he stares into himself instead of looking into the lens.
And he pretends to hear applause in the pitter patter footsteps of his family upstairs.
But they are unawares.
But the saddest thing is the reach to turn off the camera phone.
The saddest thing is the reach to turn off the camera phone.
So much truth
In the reach
In the length
Of the arm
In the length
Of the fingers
So much truth
And tension
In the tendons
In the blood
Beneath the skin
In the bones
Beneath
Down to the bones
Beneath
There is so much sadness in the reach.
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2. |
||||
|
The poet sings his sad song.
It is sadder than he knows.
And so it goes.
There is sadness in the reach to turn on the camera phone.
There is sadness in the hope inside the reach to turn on the camera phone.
And the hope inside his eyes begins to fade once he sees himself.
To hide the grey, adjust the hair
To hide the paunch, set the guitar there.
The poet sings his sad song.
It is sadder than he knows.
And so it goes.
And he sings: "Hugs and kisses and love have been weaponized."
And I say: Hugs and kisses and love have always been weaponized.
He does not look me in the eye.
The poet sings his sad song.
And there is sadness in the silence when the song ends.
And there is sadness as he stares into himself instead of looking into the lens.
And he pretends to hear applause in the pitter patter footsteps of his family upstairs.
But they are unawares.
But the saddest thing is the reach to turn off the camera phone.
The saddest thing is the reach to turn off the camera phone.
So much truth
In the reach
In the length
Of the arm
In the length
Of the fingers
So much truth
And tension
In the tendons
In the blood
Beneath the skin
In the bones
Beneath
Down to the bones
Beneath
There is so much sadness in the reach.
|
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Buggy Jive Albany, New York
BUGGY JIVE is a soul rock singer-songwriter quietly uploading music from a basement somewhere in Upstate New
York.
Equal parts Zeppelin and D’Angelo and Prince and Joni in sound and sensibility, his lyrics often mine the literature of the past to make sense of the present – from Ellison to Morrison to Eliot to Didion.
“Literary Kravitz,” as some say.
... more
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