BLUZ
CHOP.SWING.JIMI
When they ask you to play
Set fire to your guitar on stage
Burn their national anthem
note for note, until it ashes.
Hey Joe, where you goin
with that gun in your hand?
We stand all along the watchtower
waiting for your sound
to return, so much genius in a purple haze, lost
we strain eyes to see what we lost in a London fog.
27 be a difficult number to survive.
Hard to play louder than the demons
callin your name, nodding when they see you
ready to roll you down to Notting Hill.
Hey Voodoo Chile, where you goin
with that band of Gypsys?
Plug in, turn the amp up
let your power light up electric ladyland
until we can see it, in the distance
thru the purple haze
as we stand all along the watchtower,
waiting for your sound to return.
Hey Joe, where you goin
with that Hendrix in your hand?
Set fire to your ax, watch the flames dance
and the smoke rise.
Chop Jimi. Swing Jimi.
Burn this third stone from the sun
to ashes.
FOR FRANCIS L WHEN THE PURPLE RAIN AIN'T ENOUGH
What those hands held,
the weight of my mother’s broken hope.
Her teeth were piano keys that played the saddest melody
The basement
was never our low point.
We all drowned in the flood of frustration
from your failure.
The duets,
a thunder through walls.
Your voice was cannon barrel boom
but never louder than her dove cry.
She never learned to fly from you,
well maybe she did
but the anchor in my eyes kept her grounded
kept her here.
Under this roof of batter and blues,
my guitar wrote so many love letters,
I never had the heart to address them
to another lover,
cuz they all sounded like you,
like a heartbreaking backhand with a bass line.
so thick it left a bruise.
You are so bold,
so giant and genius,
the meanest man
I have ever loved and loathed in the same breath.
Tell me how to run away from the music,
when it no longer heals you.
How do I compose that great escape?
when I wear your face?
Every look in the mirror is a reminder
that I am a remix of pain,
that your talent runs in my veins.
I’m scared to death that every song
I write, every note composed,
will sound like the horrible harmony
in your eyes.
I don’t wanna be one of those guys,
who learns to apologize,
after the fury of the music fades.
I never meant to cause you any sorrow
It’s funny how easy the lyrics come,
after how hard you hands hit
Francis. I slapped her.
It was reactionary, maybe learned,
maybe something inside me
like an inherited talent.
maybe I’m just like you.
maybe I’m just like her.
A cloud over our house,
and I’m praying for purple rain.
WHEN JANE SAYS
He wore your addiction Jane
like an old shirt
that you can’t get rid of
because the stains hold memories.
The font on front now faded
sang your story, a tragic tale filled
with too much color to see the full picture,
picture a concert of people singing your story.
The way he sang, Jane
held every echo of that house in tune,
each note that crawled out of his throat
spreads itself all over the amphitheater.
There was a magic in his voice, Jane
a lollapalooza imagination racing
through the electricity of a microphone
and Perry’s heartbeat.
St. Andrews feels different with every sunrise
looks like it kicked the habit
left Sergio looking for you
in a place you have long since forgotten.
Perry sang you a farewell
before you flew away to Spain.
If you wondered,
Yes they still want you.
Boris “Bluz” Rogers has risen through the ranks of spoken word entertainment. He is an Emmy Award winner, honored with a recognition in Excellence in Leadership from the NAACP, the Director of Creative Engagement for Blumenthal Performing Arts, and is the slam master and coach of SlamCharlotte. The competitive team of poets whom he led to back to back National Poetry Slam victories in 2007 and 2008 and a historic 3rd win in 2018. Bluz is also a 2010 Southern Fried Poetry Slam Champion. He has featured and hosted at the LA Poetry festival as well as the National Poetry slam in and the Individual World Poetry Slam . Bluz also served as a delegate and writer at the All-America City awards where he helped Charlotte win the very sought-after award of All-America City. Channeling human experience into gifts of metaphors and similes, Bluz has published “Articulate Slang” and produced three audio releases. His poetry is universal, dismantling social, economic, and ethnic barriers reaching into the heart of the community where he is an active member. Along with his stage and writing capability Bluz is also an incredible Voice over Talent. Using his words, writing and voice to work with several organizations such as the Carolina Panthers, Charlotte Hornets, Charlotte Chamber of Commerce, The National Museum of African American Music, Junior Achievement, Wachovia, CBS Radio, Radio Disney, Raycom Sports, ESPN and SPEED TV, where he wrote and performed several intros for the nationally televised showed NASCAR. Today, Bluz’ voice is a progressive tool used to foster transformation. Nowhere has Bluz’ impact been more apparent than when he performed at the 2010 induction ceremony for the NASCAR Hall of Fame, a symbolic culmination of the city of Charlotte’s passion for winning the bid for the NASCAR Hall of Fame, and Bluz’ passion to communicate his human-centric prose to audiences who have yet to enjoy slam poetry as an art form. The Hall of Fame opening and Bluz being, not only the first performer, but also the first African-American performer, is an historic event. When Bluz is not appearing on major radio and television network performances including, CBS Radio, Radio Disney, ESPN, Speed TV, and BET, Bluz has shared the stage with many distinguished poets and international recording artists ranging from Nikki Giovanni, Sonia Sanchez, and Gil Scott Heron to Outkast, John Legend, and Pink Floyd, he devotes his time to his family, his wife and three children. Always looking for the next innovative idea, the next creative project and whether it’s street clothes or Tuxedos, Bluz is always ready to lend his talent and share his passion for entertaining and inspiring the world. This is Bluz.