The hum of the river is a circle of fifths Gifts given from the ground to the sound of the town Memphis is essential, elemental, consequential to the continental drift, the rift and the conundrum The riffs and the doldrums conjured from the bottoms up Through black water and sideburns a slow burn broke thru into purple majesty the likes of which we’d never seen the kings cavorted criss cross apple sauce Until the loss of innocence Shame and hatred like kudzu took root The hoot owl now prowls the outskirts where the willows grow wild and weep One day the sheep will return to the shepherd’s watch Singing that perfect third over the bird songs Singing along with the mighty Mississippi Swooning towards the crescent city With pity in its heart and titty in its teeth Bacchus buckin’ the dirty bop in the raindrops and the tears telling us about the years we lost Looking at the sun thinking it would protect us But all we got was suspected by the suspicious The vicious masquerading as witness to whiteness Conspicuous without the test of faith To tell it to each other, recognize our sisters and brothers In the way we sing a song, dance or hum along The slightest tap on the knee bone, neck bone, elbow, jaw bone Somehow over the frequency of humidity we congregate And share the best of what’s left From that we must believe a better day will come hum, Memphis, hum
I wrote this about Memphis this morning after reading BB King’s story about his friendship with Elvis in Las Vegas in the 70s. It made me think about Memphis, its history, culture, politics and its place along the Mississippi River among the center of America. When I think of Memphis I am conflicted with romantic notions contrasted with concern for the people and culture. They are unappreciated by the red sea of white supremacists encircling their city. This jewel of a cultural birthplace for American identity is still seem by many as a place to control, punish and pardon at their will and whim. Why there are whites who still live in the mind space of fear and contempt os beyond my understanding. I pray for a change still yet to come. My patience is wearing thin
My word, Mr. Ribs. I’m experiencing “The Vapors” from the written word. Happens on occasion as a well- read unwashed phan. As a former Memphian (high school and again from 1997-1999) your lyrics make me warm and fuzzy/ nostalgic. Probably overload listening to Brother Todd Snider whilst reading but it's a Seattle song...
Mud and Honey.
Thank you.
-Phil
Education is a key to understanding, but understanding has stretched as thin as patience.