WILLY AND JIM

Boys of soul stock
Who come of age
On the streets of New York City
Don’t need to see the rest of the world
For tips on cool.
For tips on walking the walk
Or talking the talk.
New York air’s thick with this stuff.
A humidity that burns
The lungs off those who don’t get it.
Burns the insides of the posers
Quite content in looking the part
Of the pained but persevering
With no cred to back up the hurt.
And in the event that a boy
Of soul stock is armed with a god
Given gift and the honesty,
Passion and courage
To see it through
Then a riot of art
Breeds hope and salvation
Where before vicarious
Dreams were the only reality.
A boy in the suburbs
On his heels reeling
From a love gone bad
Listens to Willy wailing
Like an angel caught in the limbo
Between heaven and hell
And the streetlights have taken
On a different shine
Lighting a way to soldier
Through the heartbreak.
A boy in the suburbs
With the bedroom walls closing in
Reading Jim’s verses
Savoring the depth and richness
In the texture of shadows
Glowing as much as anything
Under the sun enabling imagination
With free rein to create,
To do rather than observe,
To fight rather than retreat.
Men of passion
For all their manifold beauty
Are still but men
In an imperfect world.
Demons latching on
With a ferocity
For in the limelight
Every misstep is magnified
And the world moves too fast
To catch yourself from falling.
And damage is done
And wounds heal
Till the next round
Of broken skin.
A cycle of pleasure and pain
Ripe for a litany of excuses.
Creativity becomes a tightrope
And that old saw that time
Heals all wounds is clearly a lie.
The killing is well past the point
Of no return and it’s just a matter
Of time till the last curtain falls.
A boy in the suburbs
Translates bits and pieces of the life
Muddling through ups and downs of his own.
Perhaps a life not as sexy
But a life none the less
Punctuated by a city that never sleeps.
While I mourn the passing
Of the minstrels
I can still feel their resonance
Deep in the marrow
With every step on the charged concrete
And I know the possibilities remain
With Willy and Jim
Raising shots
Of spirits bittersweet.
Tonic for the blood
As the band plays all night
Stars eternal in the universe
Of New York City.