Gypsy James, US

 

 

Free Verse   Livin' Essence O' The Blues   dark Street be like a muddy path in a boneorchard 'n' neon splayed out all over it like someone took a blade 'n' slashed the skin o' that Street crazy 'n' wi'out design in min' or like Carol Cutrere once said t' Val "Snakeskin" Xavier: "Something is still wild in the country! The country used to be wild, the men and women were wild and there was a wild sort of sweetness in their hearts, for each other, but now its sick with neon, its broken out sick, with neon, like most other places..." (Tennessee Williams:"Orpheus Descending/The Fugitive Kind-film") 'n' it reeks o' rottin' food 'n' vomit 'n' sex 'n' booze 'n' weed 'n' devastation 'n' out o'all them jook joints that be main business o' that Street be blastin' Sounds raw mournful yet sweet/ 'n' in one o' them jook joints smoke as thick as a heavy fog on a bayou at the hour o' the Loup-Garou stinkin' o' beer 'n' busthead perfume sweat 'n' Mojo be one amongst all the other Nightfolk lookin' for somethin' few in their lives'll ever find bendin' an ear t' them Sounds on the box Lightnin' Slim, Lazy Lester, Lonesome Sundown, Slim Harpo, Swamp Pop, Zydeco, Cajun-all that strange beautiful music o' the Fugitive Kind 'n' that one cat do look lean 'n' hungry 'n' it ain' jes for a plate o' red beans 'n' rice it be a ravenous hunger o' the Spirit whose essence be o' Night/ he be jes another drifter same as rest o' them there jes another one o' them lonely people that fell by this jook that Night not by n'plan but nonetheless guided by some feelin' that maybe there he could somehow get the deal t' for once go down right/ 'n' when his eyes met one woman's they both felt a-tremblin' all 'neath their skin 'n' a heat 'n' a passion 'n' a desire t' come t'gether n' words could begin t'... they moved till they were up tight t' one another their thighs 'n' chests merged they said what needed t' be said but their eyes 'n' their heat 'n' the desire o' their skins said it all/ then up in her room a sad funky transient cell they got naked 'n' did everythin' desperate lonely lovers do 'n' they writhed 'n' they balled 'n' like the Sounds driftin' in they lived the essence o' the Blues till they exhausted 'n' temporarily satisfied they fell into a deep sleep 'fore the dawn/ 'n' when he woke up the woman was gone she'd left a note,said: "Baby,you hang the Moon for me but I jes gotta be movin' on" s' he too got back on that Road roamin' aimlessly on t' another dark Street in that Night t' another jook joint sentenced in his lonely skin wi' its ravenous hungry Spirit that be essence o' the Night lookin' for that somethin' wi'out a name but it be Livin' Blues if it be anythin'... Tenor saxophonist David "Fathead" Newman died this week at the age at the age of 75. Here's a sample of the beauty he left behind. http://www.jazzonthetube.com/page/137.html     Be Y' O' This Mystere?   could be a heartbeat? or maybe sound o' bootheels on a street? could be drums? or bodies slappin' t'gether in heat 'n' passion? perhaps thoughts boundin' off the walls in a skull? maybe torrential rain? a Bluescat thumpin' a bass beat on a guitar? whatever be that Sound- be that what y'are? be y' Sound o' Night? when all that lily-white ennui 'n' banality been drained out 'n' dried like a snake's skin shed in a burnin' summer sun? be y' that drone o' a Blues run that sounds like a freight train at 3 AM in a desolate place where lonesome 'n' brave Hobos camp? be y' like mysts drippin' off ancient cypress trees in a bayou where 'gators 'n' cottonmouths lurk 'n' gaze thru darkness 'n' commune wi' Haints? be y' o' this Mystere? this Magick? this Hoodoo/Voodoo Gris Gris? y' got y' Mojo,man? or be y' still hung up in all that shit they enslave all the peoples wi- all that "salvation" 'n' that "damned"? jes maybe y' venture t' that Crossroads wi' that blood-red Moon lightin' up dark o' Night y' c'n hear them Loup-Garous a-howlin' eh,fuck it! y' ain' a-fright! y' feel a rhythm in y' bones in y' blood in y' skull y' somehow be knowin' t' Night y've merged wi' that Fugitive Kind 'n' y' destiny been engraved on them tablets o' stone o' that Ol' Religion 'n' y' be the altar 'n' the deity that floods thru y' veins y' be that Spirit neath the Skin y' be the beginnin' Man,they ain' n' "end"! y' c'n n'longer be bamboozled by all that jive they ain' gonna put y' on wi' their con yr not their mark yr not a fool! y've merged wi' Papa Ghede! maybe Now they get HIP t' what COOL really be! y' don' need n' Gypsy spreadin' n'Tarot, no, or gazin' into a crystal ball t' be tellin' y' a lotta jive behin' some "future", man get yr Boots on, cat, be Hip t' the facts that "future" be NOW thas only place it could ever be at... don' be a-lookin' t' n' "past" for n' Skeleton Key t' open a vault o' Mysteres be who y' be NOW they be yr bones yr organs yr blood yr skin yr mind yank off all them corruptin' conditionin' s all yr life they've blinded y' wi' gotta take on the courage t' SEE this Life as it really be... cast off those chains by which y'been enslaved those chains o' "race" 'n'"religion" 'n' "gender" "class" 'n' all that shit if y' ain' free might as well be dead 'n' feedin' the Worm gotta be free t' be o' that Night one o' them Night people be 'cause it ain' n'way "evil" like they'd have y' believe gotta be free t' be one o' the Fugitive Kind Livin' Blues that Spirit y' be locked up in that solitary confinement cell 'neath yr skin laughin' its ass off knowin' in reality it be free not a prisoner a-tal it be Cool it be the real you it be free thas yr destiny fo' eternity 'cause nothin' else amounts t' a good goddam...     Blues on N'exit Street   wind be a-blowin' fierce bringin' a chill on skin down t' them bones be this jes another day in the Life? be this jes one mo' riff in m'bluest Blues Life?... I be thinkin' back t' when I was a kid things weren' that much goddam better then, man, runnin' them streets hungry stealin' cans o' spagheeti eaten cold really wonderin' if I'd get the chance t' grow ol'/ papa was a drifter 'n' when he was ever aroun' he was mean mama all strung out on beer whiskey 'n' wine hangin' out in jooks all Night I was jes a lonely manchild tryin' t' make m'guitar sound right/ started hitch-hikin' 'roun' country when I was 14 guess I was jes fed up wi' workin' in tobacco fields since I was 12 'n' jes 'bout everythin'/ hung out wi' folksingers Bluescats Hobos 'n' all like that like Eric Andersen said-I had thirsty boots or Bob Dylan-one too many mornin's 'n' a 1,000 miles down the Road yet t' go/ felt like the spooky haints o' human folly we're pursuin' me 'n' lust 'n' greed 'n' ravenous Loup-garou o' loneliness devourin' 'n' corruptin' me 'neath m'Skin/ Man, I did many a downtime in too many evil stinkin' jail cells fo' n'crime but bein' po' 'n' wi'out a home/ also Dug some rare beauty in places I roamed blue Gulf waters 'n' jungle down in Puerto Angel down bottom o' Mexico wild Magick deserts where Apaches 'n' Hopis 'n' Navajos roamed/ mystereous dark bayous full o' 'gators 'n' cottonmouths Cajuns 'n' Hoodoo Folk a-dwellin' down south o' Houma, Louisiana where Spirit o' Val "Snakeskin" Xavier permeates 'n' his Swamp Blues be its essence/ foun' love 'n' lost it one too many times foun' jobs 'n' never seemed t' be able t' hang on t' 'em either/ 'n' now I jes be s'weary some Kind o' shattered Dreamer starin' out a window not sure what I be seein' maybe nothin' a-tal? Blues echo in jooks o' the Blessed 'n' yet Damned in this corrupted once sacred land/ yeah, them Blues be m'anthem m'Life m'destiny 'n' I feel like some sordid refugee wi' n'where left t' flee/ be this jes one mo' riff in m'bluest Blues Life? crazy birds jivin' on the windowsill dark windy Night lit up by that red Moon I be a-thinkin' seems like there ain' n'justice 'n' lil' if any peace love 'n' harmony t' be foun' they takin' all the finest Folk amongst us 'n' shovin' us Wild Seed in that poisoned groun'/ don' seem t' matter anymo' what color y'be 'cause all them evil corrupted sonovbitches doin' their damnedest t' keep them wi' nothin' down/ ain' really n'mystery why our Kind be Livin' Blues on N'exit Street (well, yeah, there be jes one exit, man,'n' that be the boneorchard,Y'Dig?) 'n' yet it be the weirdest thing- these Blues somehow make us clean 'n' strong enough t' greet another dawn...     About Gypsy James   Gypsy James: Born in 1949-same year as Tom Waits altho I am in in n'way implyin' I be on same level as he as an artist, altho I try...born o' a Welsh Gypsy mother 'n' a Black Irish father 'n' if y'ain' Hip t' what a Black Irishman be well, begorrah!...started readin' at 4 as well as drawin', 'n' by time I was 9 was bendin' an ear t' BeBop 'n' startin' t' Dig Beat lit...had a very weird 'n' nomadic childhood...Dug "On the Road" "Howl" etc by age 14 'n' hit the Road hitchhikin' 'n' havin' adventures o' m'own fueled by drugs sex booze 'n', like, that...been writin' poetry, prose, creatin' visual art since about 12(?)...always considered m'"self" an authentic Hipster ie. never Dug hippies, y'DIG?...experienced extremely traumatic 'n' devastatin' shit durin' 'nam era...have written at least 7 prose "novels", countless poetry texts, got more fuckin' collages 'n' paintin's than m'ol' house c'n hold!...will probably have on m'boneorchard stone (if I even get one!) "NOTHIN' BE TRUE, EVERYTHIN' BE PERMITTED"..."n' Blues Culture be essence o' whoever I be...started playin' guitar when I was 6,'n' been a Blues fanatic ever since...never did become a master player 'cause o' laziness 'n' too much o' m'energies devoted t' arts 'n' writin'...but I c'n honestly say I be Livin' Blues...in fact I'd say m' magnum opus in prose be "Legacy O' Val "Snakeskin" Xavier" based on Tennessee Williams' "Orpheus Descending/The Fugitive Kind (film wi' Marlon Brando)" which be more or less m'take on history o' Blues Culture amongst many other things related...