The Mohawk Club - a little work of fiction by fly

The following is an extension of some thoughts inspired by John Sinclair and  his poems set in New York, that describe and project the early Be-Bop pioneers like Bird, Dizzy and Monk into life.

I soon found myself mixing a little Native American Indian furniture into a fictional club scene, when suddenly, without warning, the building started shaking and tearing itself loose from its foundation. x steve fly.

 

The Mohawk Club

down
to gothamsterado
through city clouds moonlight
streaking down

solid rays billy bounce

off the puddle
street amber

leopard lightning

shattered glass

that whisky moon
eclipsed by rolling
marshmallows

 

  toasting the eye
funk 

head lamp &
reefer burn outside 

the club doors

 

vipers blow & hiss
steam seeping out

from the stage

a rocket launch site

up up-town-up
escape into air

buildings nearby
sway loose from
footing notes

  & rise up 

with gargoyles

 

breaking loose with

  the music blasting away 

from grey concrete

sprouting feathers
bright green &

toucan yellow
big chief salmon & gold

evaporating into

dark skies

tiny pieces of the city
pulled away in the night

a gravity bop bomb
inside the club

under hazy
lemon light
the honey-bop elixir drips
juss’ keep on jumpin

cats do the leap frog
peeps jiggin’ &
moving so hard
the floor boards
wriggle loose

doors & windows

pop in their
frames while musical
flames lap ears of
dancing cats

the club a
living museum

exotic objects
resonate to sounds

the players play
 

a seemingly ad-hoc
collection of artefacts
from africa india asia
the Caribbean
the americas

& Indonesia
crammed into one room

 

a cherry red mardi gras

indian head dress &
five pots of Robert Johnson
snake oil
perch on the shelf

several rusty
saxophones hooked
over water pipes cling
like docked space craft

a bunged-up
silver tuba
hunches behind the bar
a mirrored ice bucket

two trombones
hang from sharp
shark teeth

trumpets & clarinets
double as flower vases
on turntable platters

a native indian
shield-canvas
looms large
like jupiter behind
the stage

 

sea-shells
beads & wires hang from
all quarters snaking the
room

 

original sheet music
portraits of jazz masters
handmade flyers

 grip the walls
behind smoke tinted
glass in various frames 

 

dusty books
embroidered with more shells
& reeds

crocodile teeth piano
keys 

 

ostrich feathers
& white buffalo hair

the smell of reefer 

everywhere

to the left a
double bass pulses
like a whale heart
spitting out notes
from its huge
bass-clef gut

the horse chestnut
upright has viper tooth
tuning fangs
atop its snake
head

a hybrid trap kit
sits center stage

like an insect

hi hat stand from old
grey gun barrels
hi-hat cymbals from turkey
crash china symbols
viper head sticks
& mohawk punk
brushes

to the right
of stage the turn
tables sit atop
a grand piano

a raven
headed diamond
tipped stylus looks down at
the record about to 

peck the groove

records nailed to walls

  & nicotine patches

where others once hung

beside turntables
a small glockenspiel
with silver bullet keys

a microphone
stand of gun parts
mixed with
three indian tomahawks

stands ready fro the chief

the microphone is

a shaved viper head

its tail wiggling off
toward the sound
board...

 

 

--Steve Fly
08/13 Amsterdam,
Edited 13/12/13.

 

Mohawk - John Sinclair coming March 24th, 2014

http://ironmanrecords.net/2013/10/john-sinclair-mohawk-cd-release-coming-soon-on-iron-man-records/

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