It's the blues, man.

I'm usually a quiet person, ain't talking 'bout myself too often. My feelings? No, man, definitely not. It's only with a few brothers that I can speak about 'em. But when I hear the music man, then it's all a different story. A whole different thing. I get goosebumps on my arms an' my spine, know what I'm talking 'bout? Oh, and then the harmonica. When I take the harmonica in my hands, man. That's a new world, like I'm crossing some kind of portal to another dimension. I just close my eyes and take the harmonica to my mouth 'n I speak my soul out. It comes from here, ya' know? It starts right here, at the center of my stomach and goes up. I can feel it, with my eyes closed I can even see it, all my soul pouring like some strange glowing liquid, haha. And it comes all the way up and it moves me, it's that which plays, you see? It's not me, I just let go and my soul moves my body, my shoulders start shaking to the music and my hands and my mouth just start playing by themselves, as if they had a life of their own. Through the harmonica I am myself completely.

**

1 comments:

Space Oddi-ty said...

A man on the moon,
A man on the blues,
A man hides his mood
With sound on his tunes.

A man that conveys
To see people straight.
Nobody turning,
nobody whispering,
Just tapping, just kidding,
with smiles on their face,
while somebody thrives to spell.

Try your turn,
try your faith,
'cause all causes turns,
'cause all causes madness.

Nothing seems good,
return man, man from the flood
return man, against the crowd,
return man, return man
man from the mood,
man from the moon.