From the day I started recycling
I fill my trash bin
With old dreams
Gathered in antiquated worlds
...
The old elm beams
The wind whispers in buried tongues
In the tomb, bones creak under the weight of centuries
Starlight weaves silver splinters
...
The saxophonist played
Without a single note heard
Coppery brine resonated
...
Three sisters, daughters of blandishment
Under the starry, black velvet sky
Triad of adroitness
Their eyes are hidden, their lips sing
...
Your gaze touches me, like a sirocco
The moon silently kissing the wild Neptunian depths
In your eyes, the art of a thousand masters shines
Each sparkle a painting, a gateway to inveiglement
...
My pseudonym is Mr. B. O'Jangles, a nod to the melodramatic figure of Bojangles. I have been writing poetry for as long as I can remember, exploring a wide range of themes and styles. I welcome feedback, as long as it is respectful and constructive. My hope is to reach many readers and to share with them the depths of my innermost thoughts. The name 'Bojangles' is most famously associated with Bill 'Bojangles' Robinson, a legendary African-American tap dancer and actor from the early 20th century. He was celebrated for his elegant style and rhythmic precision, often performing in a way that captured both joy and the struggles of life, hence the 'melodramatic' association. The character of 'Mr. Bojangles' was also immortalized in the popular song of the same name by Jerry Jeff Walker, which tells the story of a man with a bittersweet life filled with dance and sorrow. By using the pseudonym Mr. B. O'Jangles, I am drawing on this rich cultural reference, suggesting that my work might similarly blend joy with deeper emotional undertones.)
The Trash Bin
From the day I started recycling
I fill my trash bin
With old dreams
Gathered in antiquated worlds
Poems from a completed past
Muted and erased
they had drowned
Remembered pain released with burdens
I am lost in the mist
Unnamed, without subsistence
Perished in silence
The proof of this
Hidden in a trash bin
To see the lies on their faces - it doesn't hurt anymore
I wonder.... do I really?