UP LATE: All you gotta do is call me

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AL GreenSimply Beautiful

I remember my mother’s love for the music of AL Green.  In fact, she had so much love for this man, she kept a crumbled rose that he had given to her at the Ohio State Fair during the 70s.  I was born in 1984.  She still had that rose wrapped in a plastic bag until the mid-90s!  She had shown up alone, hours early for his concert so that she could get a seat in the front row.  Sitting there, waiting, she didn’t realize that during his soundcheck, he had seen her from behind the curtain.  During the show, he came down off the stage and announced to the crowd that he wanted my mother to have that rose, his leather jacket and scarf for showing such commitment.  I’m sure her ♥ heart ♥ fluttered big time!  What an exciting moment.  I always loved hearing this story.  I too, enjoy AL Green.  I am pleased to share him.

P.S. A rose for Rosemary!  That’s her name.  And as you can imagine, he surely did say, “here’s a rose for Rosemary.” 

I’m up late, listening to these soft words.

Thank you for coming here,

Shila Iris

UP LATE: Good Sax With Coltrane

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John Coltrane:  While My Lady Sleeps

Coltrane’s intensity is amazingly stimulating. I can hear words under each note, softly whispering to me, “sweet dreams.” Enjoy!

Thank you for coming here,

Shila Iris

GOODNIGHT: Erykah Badu

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LYRICS: Click here.

Thank you for coming here,

I am Shila Iris
Midnight hour 12:12

P.S. Do you ever feel like the English language doesn’t have the words to express what you are feeling?  Like, it’s not your native tongue?  But it’s your first language, the one you’ve been taught, but somehow, it isn’t fulfilling?  Get at me.

GOODNIGHT: Sade

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DM7hpeFtkVI

LYRICS:  CLICK HERE

Thank you for coming here,

Shila Iris ♥ 11:11

A certain kind…

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We don’t talk cause kissing is our language, with eye contact, we ease into conversation

tongues glide, I flip

exchanging melodies with our lips

He breathes into me, my engines boil

he plants seeds,

in my soil

his drip is so loyal, only rising to my occasion

his hands divine,

massaging the sides of my face, and

he provides, a certain kind…

of freedom, a certain kind of love