Johnny5's profile

Biting Blue Teeth sunk in that deep blue rhythm, rich sax spilling notes like sex and raising the heat- eyes stung shut from sweat drops, as the bass drops, swaying in my chair drunk like slide guitar This kid on lead seducing us all with them sweet delta blues, thin spider vein fingers moving like lit trails of gasoline stale copper wound strings red like stove top burner swirls Last set last cigarette thick smoke dancing to that smooth baseline- late night notes seeping through wall cracks ...

Stars by Scott George Too many voices at once in here dust draped speakers leaking out old school lounge tunes, lost melodies hiding in the laughter of blonde sorority queens six deep at dirty red booth tables, pairs of pink glittering lips waiting for diet soda and cheese fries It’s a fortress wall- liquid foundation cemented in lilac body spray handbag shields and eyeliner lances- armor by Dolce&Gabanna They file out, dragging down rhinestone sunglasses like astronaut visors, impervious to ...

Cajun America by Scott George We listened to blue rhythms and one man bands, vibrato and hard breath, toasting youth with fake absinthe on the strip We drank long islands and Jager bombs, smoked hash on sidewalks, weary of cops on horseback and the echo of crunched beer cups under hoofs the streets are still packed in the off season, young men from Dallas, girls from Spokane, neon cursive and body heat turning sweat thick in corner clubs, swaying drunk in bars only half enclosed like shoe box...

For Braces and Miami Beach by Scott George Maybe we were the ulcers in Dad’s stomach, or the stones that turned Mom yellow or the disease that bent our grandmother like thin copper wire. Maybe we shouldn’t have ran to them each time we cut our fingers. Maybe we shouldn’t have played at night in busy streets. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone all the way to South beach, leaving them behind at barely seventeen. Maybe we shouldn’t have drank the whiskey in their closet, the good whiskey, the wedding...

For The Masses by Scott George if only it would Ring, man, if only it would Ring, Ring like ten thousand watts in a dog’s ear through building size speakers in city streets Ring like roaring oil fires, like the echoes and screams from bottom level reverb to get the asses and elephants running Ring like limbs breaking windshields like power lines smacking sidewalks like fast channels churning up Big Easy roads, flushing out the unfortunate pale with black media cockroaches to roof tops for pub...