to Baker Street or
San Jose or any of those
too hip to show your hand
hang outs
captured by the wail
down paths wide
and slow
or up narrow, fast
calling me home and
pulling me back
to dark streets
alleys, drawn
with magnet force
to the wild side
sax cries hot sweat,
passion drips
into veins throbbing to
live here now
also adding to the poetic strains of rock and roll at tweetspeak poetry
love the musical close...sax cries...the bit of jazz calling you down the alley...there is a bit more reality in those places than in the too cool hang outs...
ReplyDeleteHa, I never knew the 'way to San Jose' either in the days when it mattered....but I always knew that, one way or another, rock & roll lived.
ReplyDeleteNicely done. Love the closing words.
ReplyDeleteas a sax player, this hit me right into the heart...ha.. baker street...smiles... i'm all for the down to earth places - they seem to be more real
ReplyDeleteI love, love, love that last stanza! Awesome poem!
ReplyDeleteI remember the allure of Baker Street when graduating from high school seeing the big city I never say seeing now fully I did not miss anything for me. Thanks for the memories...love ya friend!
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed this.
ReplyDelete