KIND OF BLUE
KIND OF BLUE
The clock hands spun too fast, I lost myself.
I missed treasures with no map in sight,
beneath scorching sand, X marks my heart.
You carry my spirit and spite along with it-
my beaming ultralight, ultrabright
in rays of ultraviolet. Love is ultra
violent. I hide at sea, Poseidon pierces
me with his trident. The blow to my heart
paints me with pain.
(Different Kinds of Blue)
Nothing’s the same.
Trust goes away.
serial lovers of unrequited dreams,
zircons and diamonds glitter the same
but only one breaks beneath the pressure. You
can’t live tomorrow if you die today
chasing some head, I’m chasing my tail.
I’m why my relationships fail.
Too much love to give
And none to myself.
You dream of the burning man
(This is no festival).
I’m kind of blue,
Miles Davis’s saddest tune,
The darkest hue
Only for you,
I’ve been conditioned.
-
Miles Davis’ 1959 best-selling album, ‘Kind of Blue’ has become the soundtrack to my life. The moodiness of the album’s introduction, “So What,” is what my thoughts feel like. A melancholic undertone with calls to sporadicity, joy, and unsolved pain. The same is reflected in my poem, anode to the album that mirrors how I feel.
There’s a crossroads in your youth that no one tells you about when you’re becoming your adult self. I feel as if I’ve watched the time pass by being someone for so many other people that I missed the opportunity to become my authentic self. Now, I must fight through the many fake faces I’ve put on throughout the years to be who I truly am. I’ve buried so many emotions in the hole that many of us carry at the bottom of our stomachs, but the thoughts attached to them seem to live with me. I know I live in the mind of those I’ve loved before as well.
My spirit lives through the moment. I’m told I’m alluring. The ones I’ve loved the most have become victims of my private pain. So, when I’m faced with the consequences of my actions, I’m more hurt than when I met them. I’ll ask myself what better to do with myself than hide. I cloak in pity.
The third session on the album titled “Blue in Green” carries my worries down a river. John Coltrane and Miles Davis’ solos cry the tears that I can’t bring to my eyes. Yet, it’s my fault I feel this way. I’m losing trust in myself. I become married to these ideas of false realities and cling to people who feed into my ego. I carry these people on my back, and when life relieves me of these spirits, I come to terms with an intimidating fear.
I have to be alone.
Sex no longer excites me. That was taken from me. I still will do anything to satisfy someone who calls themselves fancying me. Satisfaction is scarce during this time of night, though. I look in the mirror, and the eyes that look back aren’t mine. That same sand I buried over those feelings is where I left my loved ones, but you can’t leave behind love.
The outro to Kind of Blue, “Flamenco Sketches,” reminds me to appreciate the moment my spirit lives in. I am kind of blue, the darkest hue. Only in this moment, and this moment will not last forever. The darkest blue eventually evolves into the brightest pink. I am grateful for this storm, soaking in what I have to learn from these currents. I’m digging up those emotions out of that hole. This is a gem I found in the cave of my heart. I’m telling the truth more and loving easier. Being myself is something I can’t get right, which frustrates me. I’m making decisions for me now, so I’m getting closer.
Thank you to my God, my mother, father, grandmothers, and grandfathers. Thank you to my brothers and sisters of BDY and Fastlane Records. Thank you to Najee and the entire eastside.
King.
