rose and violet creams, they smell like roses, theres a box of them on my desk, dressed in a pink ribbon lined with gold.They sing a carol of my youth.If i closed my eyes id see my Great Auntie Betty's hand leant forward over to pour a stingy (cherry glass) of cherryade for my sister, as her yearly box of rose and violet creams (her favourites) rested on her lap. Betty lived in Hastings, red ripped carpet, stenched in damp and whiskey inviting us up the narrow staircase.
Mr Bojangles ...(a gent sang this at the cafe de paris on Monday night..)
I knew a man Bojangles and he'd dance for you in worn out shoes
Silver hair, ragged shirt and baggy pants, that old soft shoe
He'd jump so high, he'd jump so high, will he likely touch down ?
Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, dance.
I met him in a cell in New Orleans, I was down and out
He looked to me to be the eye of age as he spoke right out
He talked of life, he talked of life, laughing slapped his leg stale
Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, dance.
He said the name Bojangles and he danced a lick all across the cell
He grabbed his pants for a better stance, oh he jumped so high and he clicked
up his heels
He let go laugh, he let go laugh, shook back his clothes all around
Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, dance, yeah, dance.
He danced for those at minstrel shows and county fairs throughtout the south
He spoke with tears of 15 years of how his dog and him but just travelled all about
Hid dog up and died, he up and died, and after 20 years he still grieves
Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, dance.
He said I dance now at every chance at honky-tonks for drinks and tips
But most of the time I spend behind these county bars,Ocause I drink so bitO
He shook his head, yes he shook his head, I heard someone ask him, OpleaseO,
Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, dance, dance, Mr Bojangles, dance.
______________________________--
n after the bobs of dylan come bits of kimberleena..or was it fragments..
tell somebody you love em when its raining
(thats what mamma always said)
remember this when your stood under her umbrella and shes dead.
_-_-_-
Today i fell in love with a man
hes a woman in disguise
behind his glasses live the spies-
pupils of the truth
spies, who cant deny that hes a woman in disguise?
........
O darling you were right about Greenland
I saw that man whos wore a whiskey bottle on his hand.
The opera singer for a tramps band, captured my heart and sank it through sand
O darling you were right about Greenland.
))))))))))))))
im sitting in the kitchen where nothing happens
staring at the bare walls of memory patterns
atlast im seeing there is no fault
and now i lie in my end, my broken katapault
for you my boy
THE SALTHOUSE DREAM
the salthouse dream of a bottled glass queen
behind closed doors and windows shes only seen
the numbing grain an eighth per pain
tales of the salthouse dream bought in a clingfilmed seam
on a sifted circle my lips must lean ...through whites
in the salt house dream
wilted wonderment and gleam
tis not pretty anymore (well i wouldnt know...i aint been)
(he'll still be fifty before me though, ya know)
kim x