(55) April 19, 2010: All Night Jam

ALL NIGHT JAM


2200
Hello to this my all night jam;
I’m starting here from where I am.
It’s ten o’clock and all is well,
Room one-thirteen just bid farewell
And sits already down by grace,
All tears of joy in Jesus’ face.
I’m not quite sure if fires of hell
Burn now or not, but time will tell.
My motivation to believe
I hope remains a bit naïve
Because the more I try to squeeze
The doubt, the less my spirit sees.

2245
Hello to this, hello to that,
Hello to where the music’s at.
I want to sing the circle round,
My footsore soul on grassy ground,
To dance like Adam for his Eve,
Her eyes a glossy quick qui vive,
And mine intent to know her wish
To have me swim her angelfish
As far upstream as it can go
To find the meaning of “to know,”
To learn the Braille of flesh and blood,
To do our blooming, bud for bud.

2345
Hello to this sweet night of ease,
And getting paid for expertise
Not needed when the problems solve
So easily, and troubles all dissolve
In effervescent bubble-ash
And blow their suds to sate the trash.
I’ve rounded once to every floor
Establishing a snap rapport.
The usual superstition’s gone,
And “quiet” needn’t be withdrawn
Or knocked-on-wood or quickly shushed,
Because tonight, we won’t be rushed.

0030
Prolific and audacious are
The words I’ll make my double star,
The guiding principle of this,
A day to fathom just what is,
And just what might have been
Or what might be if I begin
To tell the things I see and sense,
The things that ask for recompense.
I’ve got the time; I’ll take the stairs,
I’ll check to see if someone cares
That in these hours of easy work
The simple needs of living lurk.

0100
Its one A.M. and only six
Emergencies of pick-up sticks
Are counting gurney-minute sweeps
As at the desk the dozer sleeps;
His basal metabolic rate
Shrugs off a caffeinated state
And in agreement nods his way
From late at night to early day.
And who am I to shake my head?
And who am I to wake the dead?
Tonight we’ll love our very best,
We’ll take our time, enjoy our rest.

0145
Amiri Baraka, you’re pretty good,
You’d do much better than Al Young would,
If staying alert and being alive
Depended upon your black-lash jive.
You know the hip hop flip of the tongue
But can’t compete with Mister Young
In cool sophisticated calm
The kind that might defuse the bomb
And bring the White Man to his knees
To ask forgiveness, if you please.
You’re still a fighter, round fifteen,
A greased-up lightning war machine.

0300
For those who sleep the night is brief,
For those awake the night’s a thief,
Come sneaking in to steal their piece
Of what it is they must release
If ever they are going to heal
Resume their lives of sweat and steel,
Enjoy the fruits of work and play
To live like kings for another day.
The woman who awoke in pain
Just now, just needed to explain
A thing or two of such and such—
And one unspoken need for touch.

0430
At half past six that triple shot
Was just the thing to hit the spot,
To energize my foggy brain
And shift me into my domain
Of cool collected leadership,
Just grab the wheel and let ‘er rip!
But now ten hours down the line
My empire’s in a steep decline,
It once was vast and powerful
But now is small and sorrowful,
And no amount of stimulant
Will get me back to full percent.

0530
It’s data-gathering time again;
Distill the atoms from the skin
Of some two hundred mouths
Pronouncing each their morning vows
To get themselves a clean report
Or pay some devil at last resort
To get them out of here by noon
Or if not then, then make it soon.
And now I sit me down to count,
To tell the Day what Night’s about,
To tally beds still occupied
And sketch the plot of those who died.

D. Edgar Lamp

www.TheDailyPoem.org #55
Rhyming Couplets