Listen instead
It’s true, years pass—you lose a step or three.
Colors in the mirror turn from gold to gray.
Places where you used to go never seem to stay,
empty spaces laying where they used to be.
Yet you’re not quite so aged as the oldest tree—
passing perfume’s scent still makes your senses drown
nothing’s quite so lava hot as a low-cut gown,
except the throaty moan of passion breaking free.
Jagger’s prancing on the stage—sweaty, hot and open.
After show he claps his hands outside the exit door
Soon careless breasts and female flesh cover him entire.
He knows he’s just another check on some goupies score.
And you say you wouldn’t want that life. Liar. Liar. Liar.
by 
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A.J. Hayes
AJ Hayes lived in Southern California and admired the citizens of that particular patch of crazy a lot. They were a never ending source of WTF! Fiction was an art that puzzled him but - against the advice of friends and family - he kept tryin'.
AJ's stories and poems appeared in A Twist of Noir, Yellow Mama and Muse, Title Fights, Acorn Review, Flashshot, The Hard Nosed Sleuth, Shotgun Honey, Apollo's Lyre and Black Heart Magazine's Noir Issue.
Sadly, AJ passed away in early March 2014. RIP.
AJ's stories and poems appeared in A Twist of Noir, Yellow Mama and Muse, Title Fights, Acorn Review, Flashshot, The Hard Nosed Sleuth, Shotgun Honey, Apollo's Lyre and Black Heart Magazine's Noir Issue.
Sadly, AJ passed away in early March 2014. RIP.
Latest posts by A.J. Hayes (see all)
- Ropes Over The Rafters (A Whoville Story) - October 8, 2012
- Age, Serenity and Mick-Fucking-Jagger - July 12, 2012
- Surviving - January 11, 2012
A beut, AJ. The last 2 lines kill.
Can’t get no satisfaction, my ass. Nice job, AJ! I feel like that Dos Equis guy. I don’t normally read poetry, but when I do–it’s AJ Hayes. It’s the two-fer. Not only getting old, which is bad enough, but the double jab that you can’t always get what you want. Unless you’re a chosen one. Who needs a drink?
What that Clifford boy spewed!
Mike: Thanks, man. Those lines took me a while to write — like 16 revisions worth. Glad they worked.
Joe: Thanks, Joe. And thanks for that wonderfully poetic comment. I’ll take that drink anytime, buddy.
A great piece, Aj, and nicely timed to celebrate the Rolling Stones’s 50th Anniversary. You are the poetry master, my friend. V cool!
Set that beauty to music, Aj, and take it on the road! Why should that old fart Mick get all the “careless breasts and female flesh?”
Aj you’re a wizard with words! and one cool poet!
Nicely timed for Jaggar’s 50th
Thanks David. Not up to Keith’s blues guitar. But then nobody is.
Lady Z, you always put things in cool perspective ;)
Thanks HH. Glad you liked it. Poetry is a lot like flash fiction isn’t it?
Excellent poem! Love Jagger.
but AJ, it’s only rock n’ roll… and, i like it.
Thank you Ruth. I like The Mick too.
Right on, Bill. True dat.
AJ/Clyde ~
Man oh man does your poetry wax volcanic — ‘specially:
nothing’s quite so lava hot as a low-cut gown, except the throaty moan of passion breaking free.
Keep jib-jab-jiving your slices o’Life and I’ll never ask you to Get Off of My Cloud.
~ Fan and fanfare,
~ Absolutely*Kate
Thanks Katie Mae. You know I ‘preciate it.
I feel like I should work a Stones tune in here so here goes:
Sympathy for the devil? Fuck no!
Mick’s got the life, ain’t he?
Excellent as always, AJ.
AJ you caught that feeling brilliantly my friend. I think old rubber lips would dig ya.
Thanks Richard. Mick. Love hiim or hate him, he’s a part of you forever.
Thanks Christopher. He does indeed, my friend.