Tag Archives: night

Jazz Torn

Inspired by Jack. Digging the sneaky beat back rooms. Forever.

(c) 2013 by Tim Young

Jazz torn born from

The womb of a saxophone

In the smoky black room

Back room through a tangle

Of beads, seeds potions

Shot down like shots

Lungs bursting in the alleyways

Trying to keep with the beat

Big sticks falling hard on drums

Walking proud loud

Nobody ever says nothing about

Shutting it down


Morning is night when the time

Is right  the moon don’t know

Which way to turn

The sun is asleep

And nobody keeps watch

While the rest of the stars

 play in the twilight and burn


Someone was saying how long is the song

How long does this song intend to go on

Because the song is long and never  complete

 so no way was this tune ever gonna peak

 before another dawn had the chance to

 sit down and  eat

With the night who would soon be gone


In my dreams I still see his fingers moving

Like fireflies across them buttons on the horn

The riff repeats with the syncopated beat

Long after the drums have made their retreat

the piano perfect black and white

Croons like my baby in the jazz blast heat


Saxophone you shine like the sun

Perfect in your golden glare

Flaring at the end

Where all the notes bend

You call my name

Put my lame voice to shame

But lord knows how I love you

All the same.


Middle of the Night

I love the quiet of the stars and the darkness when there is no one else around.

(c) 2013 by Tim Young


 Crazy to sit here like this in the middle of the night surrounded by a chill and the silence of a billion stars. Getting lost in the distances and confused by the length of my arms poking into darkness. 
I crave a sandwich and a tall glass of milk in a well lighted kitchen with a kitchen smell where there’s a round table covered with a tablecloth yellow and blue. And a red candle glows.
And the little white lights way up high sparkle like the eyes of a big black bird.
And the bird is flying through the dark all the way into the night.
Then a moment arrives to move the billion stars into my little white bag. It’s too heavy to pick up so I push it under the tallest tree I can find. The tree sighs and shakes his heavy head.
It’s crazy in the middle of the night. I know the tree will kick the bag open. I know the big black bird will sit on my stars and claim them for his own.
I danced in the jungle with my foot a’shaking. The beat more than I
 could bare. The wind was a’blowing. The trees were a’bending like the road I drove
 in on. Nearly lost my life twice to speed and whiskey. And all I could feel was the 
 road under me. It felt hard, the road under me. 
Even in the middle of the night they still talked about a risky moon. A moon rich in gold. A moon like bacon, crispy and wrinkled. A moon tossed against a tall black wall. He swore it was higher than the sky and colder than winter.
Then the moon cried real white tears splashing into moon like memories covered with the ancient dust of lost love. The crying echoed like thunder and split the night in two. And one half raised a glass and the other blew a billion kisses.