Life is Flamenco by Strider Marcus Jones

why can’t i walk as far

and smoke more tobacco,

or play my spanish guitar

like Paco,

putting rhythms and feelings

without old ceilings

you’ve never heard

before in a word.

..

life is flamenco,

to come and go

high and low

fast and slow-

..

she loves him,

he loves her

and their shades within

caress and spur

in a ride and dance

of tempestuous romance.

..

outback, in Andalusian ease,

i embrace you, like melted breeze

amongst ripe olive trees-

dark and different,

all manly scent

and mind unkempt.

..

like i do,

Picasso knew

everything about you

when he drew

your elongated arms and legs

around me, in this perpetual bed

of emotion

and motion

for these soft geometric angles

in my finger strokes

and exhaled smokes

of rhythmic bangles

to circle colour your Celtic skin

with primitive phthalo blue

pigment in wiccan tattoo

before entering

vibrating wings

through thrumming strings

of wild lucid moments

in eternal components.

..

i can walk as far

and smoke more tobacco,

and play my Spanish guitar

like Paco.