Month: June 2017

For a while I hit a poetry open-mic, which welcomed original songs, but I would also try my hand at poetry, in a magical-realist style. This poem is about telling a beautiful woman she is your “muse,” and her telling you she is not!
I Lost All My Poems by frank martyn
I lost all my poems
that I kept in my jacket pocket
because I lost the jacket
with my car keys in it
and walked
until I was too drunk to walk
I saw you riding on top of the bus
you pulled me up
and found the poems
in a locket around your neck
tiny pieces of paper
dotted needle points
All the poems about you
butterflies escaped your lips saying
I am not your poems
silly
that can’t be
poems cannot be love
love is big and
more than enough
poetry is what we say
if true it
flies away
nothing is gone
that’s the cost
poetry is always lost (:

A banjo and accordion duo gets a surprise gig, playing a house party on New Year’s Eve. The homeowner loves it, and asks if the two will play again, in one year, on the following New Year’s Eve! The duo is excited, but has one small request.. “Is it OK if we leave our instruments here?”

I did a few jazzy piano gigs with a “Coleman Hawkins style” Sax player, and one time he tricked me into booking a bar where he’d been banned. When I arrived he was already arguing heatedly, with the bartender, and his nemesis bar-buddy, generally “rubbing all their noses in it.” He could not be thrown out he claimed because, by right, he was officially booked. The bartender didn’t agree, but was stuck, saying, “Fine, then, get to work.” His bar-buddy called out, “Good, I hope you guys make a million!” The Sax player mumbled over his shoulder, “Yeah, a million mistakes..” And true to his word, with every wrong note he hit, intentional or not, he shot an elbow-point toward his rival.

I was just inside the door of the Last Call Saloon when I saw a scuffle near the stage. Three large bouncers muscled through the crowd and emerged holding a very thin gent, high in the air, as if floating above. He had a “help me” look, in his eyes, as he was launched out the door.. At that point, a woman screamed, “That’s not the guy!” The 3 bouncers pushed back toward the stage, and returned this time carrying a much larger fellow, whose crazed-look left little doubt.. he was “the guy.” The dazed, thin gent wandered back in and out, several times, expecting something to happen, but the bouncers averted their eyes, pretending they couldn’t see him..

Not all family traditions are trusty treasures.. like waiting ’til it’s “hot enough” to put the air conditioners in! phew.. LOL

Due to a series of lucky breaks and administrative errors, I was accepted to play college football my freshman year, as wide receiver. It was a ridiculous blast, although a “one year and out” proposition. Occasionally, we’d party “as a team,” and I noticed something.. The prettier the girls at a party got, the stupider the guys got. I mention this only because I see a similar trend happening in cable TV news, as women news anchors get continually more and more attractive! (:

I got a good role in a college musical mainly because no one else could sing this very fast, silly “patter song.” So now.. if I’m stuck for ideas, I ask, “What can do that most people can’t?”

Playing in a band is awesome, but “party hearty” spirit and professionalism can be a sour mix. I did gigs with a jazzy-ish bass player who drank lots, appeared like Van Morrisson channeling Charles Bukowski and, on gig-day, he would tour the bars to woo prospective fans. One night, as the gig began, he was stationed on a stool stage left, and after a couple of shaky runs, his head dipped and the bass stopped. He was out.. sleeping soundly. I inserted a walking bassline on piano, bottomed out the EQ, and kicked his stool.. One kick sent him against a side wall, and then he’d bounce back, until another kick would reverse it, back toward the wall. It was working, I thought, a virtual “swaying to the beat” motion. But the crowd cheered and jeered, loving the jerky stage moves! The cash register rang out, as barflies watched their hard-drinking superhero live out his rock star dreams. He got a second wind and we finished strong with bar favorites like “Brown Eyed Girl” and “Bad Bad Leroy Brown.” He ordered 2 pitchers at last call.. we awaited a certain weekly gig offer. But the bartender looked annoyed, and emerged from dim lights, with a couple hundred in twenties. She handed it over, saying, “I saw him sleeping.. and you’re fired, by the way…”

Sometimes the phrases “tickle the ivories” and “tinkling piano” get mixed up, and someone asks, “Are you going to tinkle the ivories?” I’ve tried several witty responses, but never got any results.. so now I just say, “Yes, yes I am.” (:

I rented this cool, small house on Smith Hill, but had to move when it got sold. A year later, while heading to a bar with a guitarist buddy, he asked, “Quick pit stop at my Bro’s house? For a drink and smoke?” I said, “Ok, I used to live around here.” Was totally weirded out when we pulled up to my old house, stopped, and went inside it. The place was a total mess, a nonstop party central, and the new dude was kinda rough. I made the call NOT to tell either guy I ever lived there, and we stayed about an hour. At one point, instinctively, though, I went upstairs to the bathroom. He asked, “Where you headin’ Bro?” I said, “Oh.. Is the bathroom up here?”