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north, east, west, south - the last poets lyrics

[verse 1]
the news…. north, east, west, south
hard core honky tonk of st. louis
jimi hendrix soundings and rebounding
the cool sl!ck slide of chicago bop
the suave and s-xiness of motown
the soft winds of a desert breeze
the h-rns, the piano and drums
feeling astronomical, intergalactic
the sound of sounds charming snakes
the news… north, east, west, south
the swiftness and elegance if a magic carpet ride
veiled women teasing and tantalizing from the
outer fringes of the market place
a sharp crisp military strut
little drummer boys playing with big drums
innocent flirtations of the big band sound
some astral traveling. blues and funk gone amok
some broadway and hollywood sound
tracking down… the truth of this beginning
how did it come to be
the news… north, east, west, south
was it jazz prince? was it cl-ssical?
or was it just some of that razz matazz
from the upper tiers of your mind
back to the beginning…

[verse 2]
trudging through deep, deep snow
and blizzard like winds smashing up against your face
trying to get to somewhere, anywhere soon
the sounds and rhythms of the machines in the factories
booming out there concertos to our receptive ears
and we walked with that and we talked with that. it was our
swing and then our bop. the way we hipped and the way we hopped
our clothes, our style. that motown wile
those midwestern challenges, that midwestern funk
brothers and sisters huddled together. that burden of antic-p-tion
your mother. my mother. cowering behind fractured moments
and the illusion that blind devotion could solve the unsolvable
g*nius struggling against the brilliance of itself
my father … your father … musicians
talented creative … productive … and highly frustrated by the dead ends
and dead stops that impeded and curtailed their progression
the future looking for someone to take it forward
you took up that mantle and i took up that mantle
and we never ever forgot where we came from
a soft kiss of wine emboldens the p-ssion
a dimmed red light eases the apprehension and doubt
the delfonics make their presence known
the heat of the moment is so right up against the wall
under the stairs, in between the washer and dryer where it
all becomes so juicy and wet. a promise. a proposition. a phenomena when those
bas-m-nts started to grind. those midwestern challenges. that midwestern funk
that church piano . . . on why don’t you call me anymore. you could be church
prince. that sunday morning solo. that voice that could bring the congregation
to the best of themselves. you could be that doo wop singer on the corner
holding and preserving the highest note of our pleasures and fantasies
was warner music a challenge? no … just a matter of time
was purple rain a challenge? no… just your poetic rhyme
was all … the music you created a challenge. no…just the essence of your sublime

[poem]
the 2017 mtv awards. sheila e coming down the aisle
prince already at the altar. this night, this time
this union will become a force. a direct -ssault upon our senses
the audience had better check their immune systems
they could catch cold. because it’s about to become very … very … cool… up in here
that soaring, guitar. those scorching timbales
see mommy, see papi. you brother … yoh sister … we
can do this, we are this. that high order of afro cuban. african american
musical collaborations. thank you dizzy. thank you chano. a marvellous
rendition of call and response. the meringue, the salsa, that piano. the h-rns
giving a shout out to their cousins of the blues… the jazz and the funk of
the dancers on stage giving credence to who we are and where we came from
music … is the sound of beauty… and you displayed and dispensed that beauty
as well as anybody prince. a new symbol for your fans. avid followers. deeply
devoted believers in your talent and humanity
wherever you were was where they wanted to be. by bus by car by train by plane
and you mesmerised… you tantalised… you romanticised them with death defying acts of musical
g*nius. the speed… velocity… and depth of your splits and turns…
the acrobatic joyous atmosphere you brung to every corner of the stage. you were
that whirling dervish that baptised us in the name of feeling good about ourselves
while being at ease in the presence of others. you had that magic of
transforming adults into gleeful little children. and we were okay with that
we could handle that. because we could feel the love and respect you were sharing
with us as much as we were sharing it with you. you made us feel like
family. the human … family
the women in your life loved you trusted you
they allowed you to explore their p-ssions … their doubts … their
moments of joy. and every moment that you were accepted into their presence
you always tried to make them feel … big … about themselves. they adored that
they cherished that. because they knew that as long as you were trying
to love and accept them. then you would truly learn how to love yourself
sleep well… brave prince … for your deed and proclamations shall be forever
renowned throughout the land. and i pledge to you that with all my heart and
worth. i will try to make sure that no purple rain gets stuck in the clouds again

- the last poets lyrics

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