THE ONE AND ONLY DON COSMIC
Mind blowin'
Man in the street bringing
a new sound
moving sweaty bodies in the
City heat
even at midnight there's still no
Goodbyes
Rastafari dipping in the
Glass Bucket
Bad-luckied
born under a
Bad sign
never duck it just
roll chance like a
spliff and tuck it
behind your
Ear
under your hat
Tilted back casual but never
slack
Dirt n your
cup
blowin' and stirrin' it
Up
in Standard Time
Make you cry
Make you
fly
with wings of a dove
The rest of them playin' hard but
you
cruisin' above
in your own stratosphere
Just you and the
Sound
horn licks bright enough to light up
the Kingston sky
and last for
Years
Half century on it's still
dancing in our ears
droppin' legs
A real island shuffle
melody muted but never
Muffled
Rythm so
demanding the dancer had to
die
They try
to say you were mad but
we know how they lie
They said it of
Bedward and Bogle and
even Garvey too
so what else were they
going to do to
You
but punch a one-way ticket to
Bellevue
But what use is a
straight-jacket
against a flaming heart and a
beautiful mind
Nevermore
shall we see your kind
Modern-day living got so many in a
bind
We've forgotten
that staying loose is a
virtue
instead no one trust no one cause
Everyone
will hurt you
Yet the music that they
refuse
it is the healer
Rockfort blues
Kingston rock
From the hills of
Wareika to
the downtown dock
where silent cannons echo
Guns of Navarone
let it be
known
the spirit
has flown
guard the throne
of the once and forever
king of the trombone
The one and only
Don Cosmic
Man in the street bringing
a new sound
moving sweaty bodies in the
City heat
even at midnight there's still no
Goodbyes
Rastafari dipping in the
Glass Bucket
Bad-luckied
born under a
Bad sign
never duck it just
roll chance like a
spliff and tuck it
behind your
Ear
under your hat
Tilted back casual but never
slack
Dirt n your
cup
blowin' and stirrin' it
Up
in Standard Time
Make you cry
Make you
fly
with wings of a dove
The rest of them playin' hard but
you
cruisin' above
in your own stratosphere
Just you and the
Sound
horn licks bright enough to light up
the Kingston sky
and last for
Years
Half century on it's still
dancing in our ears
droppin' legs
A real island shuffle
melody muted but never
Muffled
Rythm so
demanding the dancer had to
die
They try
to say you were mad but
we know how they lie
They said it of
Bedward and Bogle and
even Garvey too
so what else were they
going to do to
You
but punch a one-way ticket to
Bellevue
But what use is a
straight-jacket
against a flaming heart and a
beautiful mind
Nevermore
shall we see your kind
Modern-day living got so many in a
bind
We've forgotten
that staying loose is a
virtue
instead no one trust no one cause
Everyone
will hurt you
Yet the music that they
refuse
it is the healer
Rockfort blues
Kingston rock
From the hills of
Wareika to
the downtown dock
where silent cannons echo
Guns of Navarone
let it be
known
the spirit
has flown
guard the throne
of the once and forever
king of the trombone
The one and only
Don Cosmic
NEITA AND JUNIE
She
in the way of
Jamaican girls
had a fondness for
pet names
Junie
Malungu
and doubtless many others that have not
entered into legend
He
long since preferring
Notes to names
scarcely mentioned hers
not even on that
fateful night
The air still redolent with the
breaths of a new nation
the clatter of
Morgan's Independence boots still
echoing in the stillness
Oh if only he had clutched
the instrument
and not the knife so tightly
If only he had come to greet her
with a new song
than with the old
rage
A distemper well known to resound
and even overwhelm
that Wareika hovel
But there would be no more artistry that night
and in truth not
ever
For a glorious if troubled career
lay near-impaled upon a
blade
like the fishmonger's daughter
a legacy left hanging
a tantalizing tragedy
luring many in the ensuing decades
drawn by the eerie luminosity of
what might have been
in the way of
Jamaican girls
had a fondness for
pet names
Junie
Malungu
and doubtless many others that have not
entered into legend
He
long since preferring
Notes to names
scarcely mentioned hers
not even on that
fateful night
The air still redolent with the
breaths of a new nation
the clatter of
Morgan's Independence boots still
echoing in the stillness
Oh if only he had clutched
the instrument
and not the knife so tightly
If only he had come to greet her
with a new song
than with the old
rage
A distemper well known to resound
and even overwhelm
that Wareika hovel
But there would be no more artistry that night
and in truth not
ever
For a glorious if troubled career
lay near-impaled upon a
blade
like the fishmonger's daughter
a legacy left hanging
a tantalizing tragedy
luring many in the ensuing decades
drawn by the eerie luminosity of
what might have been
SPIRIT OF JAMAICA
Don who?
Forty years a
Daughter of the soil
And yet she had
No clue
So what
Of Alphanso
Tommy
Brevett and
Sterling the last man
Standing
From the era when bands
ruled the musical roost
When spots like
Glass Bucket
Silver Slipper
And La Parisienne
pulsated
To the stratosphere
with that unique
Sound
Through a long-bellied
Horn
The reluctant star
Wailed
The sigh of Trade Winds
melded with lapping
Dead
set to the beat of
Resistance
A mystery to the
Insulated
Such as she
Now the beat's
Reverberated
throughout the world
Reaching a new generation
Such as the one
she lays to sleep each night
with foreign lullabies
They're already inured to
canned sounds and
empty celebrities
For them
unpredictable Don
And his wanton obscenities
Are a horror show
Worse than
The local news
The hidden majesty of
Drummond's blues
Is lost on them
But the little girl
inside the big exec
Knows better
She'd joyously move to
The ska
If only we'd
Let her
Far though she may be
from the heart of the matter
the strains of
Blue beat swirl
around Buckingham
For the defense
Patterson
Spaulding
Then young radicals of
The bar
Looking to make
grander names for themselves
Amid the rabid audience
And set the stage
For coming political
Stardom
With testimony from Corporal Pennycooke, Conchita,
doctors, players
And others who can no longer
tell tales
Insanity a convenient exit
For a crew struggling to
take the wheel
Of a vehicle careening
toward it's own
Redemption
The driver having long since
Relinquished control
His gaze fixed on a point
Indiscernible to
Everyone else
The knife a
blood-stained
Signpost pointing out
A cul-de-sac
A sharp change in direction
A double edged
Destiny
For the Man
The music
The nation
Forty years a
Daughter of the soil
And yet she had
No clue
So what
Of Alphanso
Tommy
Brevett and
Sterling the last man
Standing
From the era when bands
ruled the musical roost
When spots like
Glass Bucket
Silver Slipper
And La Parisienne
pulsated
To the stratosphere
with that unique
Sound
Through a long-bellied
Horn
The reluctant star
Wailed
The sigh of Trade Winds
melded with lapping
Dead
set to the beat of
Resistance
A mystery to the
Insulated
Such as she
Now the beat's
Reverberated
throughout the world
Reaching a new generation
Such as the one
she lays to sleep each night
with foreign lullabies
They're already inured to
canned sounds and
empty celebrities
For them
unpredictable Don
And his wanton obscenities
Are a horror show
Worse than
The local news
The hidden majesty of
Drummond's blues
Is lost on them
But the little girl
inside the big exec
Knows better
She'd joyously move to
The ska
If only we'd
Let her
BELLEVUE TO MAY PEN
It's not a long trip
As the crow flies
But at Kingston's grand
Theme park of
Finality
the John crows circle
Overhead
The location
Of grave A346 lost
even to them
Its occupant consigned by the judge to
That seaside resort for
Those deemed to be
As the crow flies
But at Kingston's grand
Theme park of
Finality
the John crows circle
Overhead
The location
Of grave A346 lost
even to them
Its occupant consigned by the judge to
That seaside resort for
Those deemed to be
At the point of last resort
But did they leave him be
having discarded him?
Did he terrify them
With new songs?
Did he - even without his horn - blow phrases that
Confronted them with
their many wrongs
What was handed down
As sentence
Must have been was an escape
At least at first
With Bournemouth in view
And the billowing inter-party war
raging away from him yet all around
But reality
Without the sound was
eventually
A desert he couldn't
cross
A Sahara with dunes of
loss
Anita already
Under the earth
And the band in
disarray
No one to bother him and
yet no one for whom to
play
How did he check out
Did he merely yield
the spirit
or did it leap and jump
like a ska melody
anxious to escape
a shower of boots and clubs?
The once and future
Mystery
made mortal for but
a moment
His notes ringing clear now
on a much grander
stage
But did they leave him be
having discarded him?
Did he terrify them
With new songs?
Did he - even without his horn - blow phrases that
Confronted them with
their many wrongs
What was handed down
As sentence
Must have been was an escape
At least at first
With Bournemouth in view
And the billowing inter-party war
raging away from him yet all around
But reality
Without the sound was
eventually
A desert he couldn't
cross
A Sahara with dunes of
loss
Anita already
Under the earth
And the band in
disarray
No one to bother him and
yet no one for whom to
play
How did he check out
Did he merely yield
the spirit
or did it leap and jump
like a ska melody
anxious to escape
a shower of boots and clubs?
The once and future
Mystery
made mortal for but
a moment
His notes ringing clear now
on a much grander
stage
Justice Fox presiding
God save the Queen!"Far though she may be
from the heart of the matter
the strains of
Blue beat swirl
around Buckingham
For the defense
Patterson
Spaulding
Then young radicals of
The bar
Looking to make
grander names for themselves
Amid the rabid audience
And set the stage
For coming political
Stardom
With testimony from Corporal Pennycooke, Conchita,
doctors, players
And others who can no longer
tell tales
Insanity a convenient exit
For a crew struggling to
take the wheel
Of a vehicle careening
toward it's own
Redemption
The driver having long since
Relinquished control
His gaze fixed on a point
Indiscernible to
Everyone else
The knife a
blood-stained
Signpost pointing out
A cul-de-sac
A sharp change in direction
A double edged
Destiny
For the Man
The music
The nation
ALPHA AND OCCUPATION
"When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?"
- The Tyger, William Blake
Few could know then
Among convent tapestries
and fruited grounds
That the unassuming reticent
Lamb
Had within him
A lion's roar
A fearful symmetry
in sound
Notes decorating pages like
Tiger stripes
Presence massive yet mysterious
On stage like tiger making
silent impressions in
jungle underbrush
The sound a siren
Drawing by the heart
Inexorable
We know not
What comet he rode
to this sphere only
thankful that he
bravely chose
To give voice
To the music that
Only he
Could hear
Among convent tapestries
and fruited grounds
That the unassuming reticent
Lamb
Had within him
A lion's roar
A fearful symmetry
in sound
Notes decorating pages like
Tiger stripes
Presence massive yet mysterious
On stage like tiger making
silent impressions in
jungle underbrush
The sound a siren
Drawing by the heart
Inexorable
We know not
What comet he rode
to this sphere only
thankful that he
bravely chose
To give voice
To the music that
Only he
Could hear
PLAYBOY did not see fit
DOWNBEAT too missed out
but no doubt they
would have heard
the True poll
with respondents like
Sarah the Divine
and blind Shearing of blessed memory
both of whom placed him
Top 5
They would know that
JJ the pre-eminent
braved the elements
just to hear Drummond
they would see the charts
across the Pond
that set man in the Street
at number 1
Brubeck had to
Take Five
not from fatigue
but because he was
stunned
to know
that the Don could take his Out of Time
and turn it
inside out
The sound of
comets abalaze
and planets turning
Coxsone got snippets of
the genius and
stuck him with the tag
Don Cosmic
and Marley took
Eastern Standard Time
and turned it into
"Baldhead" rag
a generation past
and a younger Marsalis
- himself a trombone man -
took a cabbie's word
and was amazed by
what he heard
What a joyous acclamation
now
in the great beyond
when they can all extend a hand
a word
an acknowledgement
of the Rockfort magician
who fashioned tunes
into gems and
astounded
the world
but no doubt they
would have heard
the True poll
with respondents like
Sarah the Divine
and blind Shearing of blessed memory
both of whom placed him
Top 5
They would know that
JJ the pre-eminent
braved the elements
just to hear Drummond
they would see the charts
across the Pond
that set man in the Street
at number 1
Brubeck had to
Take Five
not from fatigue
but because he was
stunned
to know
that the Don could take his Out of Time
and turn it
inside out
The sound of
comets abalaze
and planets turning
Coxsone got snippets of
the genius and
stuck him with the tag
Don Cosmic
and Marley took
Eastern Standard Time
and turned it into
"Baldhead" rag
a generation past
and a younger Marsalis
- himself a trombone man -
took a cabbie's word
and was amazed by
what he heard
What a joyous acclamation
now
in the great beyond
when they can all extend a hand
a word
an acknowledgement
of the Rockfort magician
who fashioned tunes
into gems and
astounded
the world
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