Last night, the Moore Brothers, Fleming and Wesley, performed at George Fox’s Chico Feo Music Extravaganza. The elder Moore, Wesley, his head bobbing like, well, like a Bobble Head, recited his poem “Roaring Twenties Redux.”
Wowee, pretty silly.
Roaring Twenties Redux
O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag—
It’s so elegant
TS Eliot, “The Waste Land”
One-two-three, one-two-three, ow, uh, alright, uh!
Wilson Pickett, “Land of a Thousand Dances”
Once this pandemic is done, y’all, people gonna be hollering siss-boom-bah, packing the tattoo parlors, barbershops and bars, macro-dosing, doing the Hedonism like it’s wa-wa-tusi, dancing on tables, dancing in the streets, there’ll be swingin’ and swayin’ and records playin’, live bands blasting covers past curfew, PO-lice sirens wailing and blue lights swirling, sweatpants discarded, shimmering gowns flowin’, flasks flashin’ in the comet light of the apocalyptic party, alack and alas and all that jazz!
Brother Fleming, on the other hand, teamed up with Robert Lighthouse and David George Sink for a moving tribute to the Charleston Nine.
Here’s an excerpt:
As our late mother was won’t to say “There’s no accounting for taste.”