Live Jazz In The Old Pueblo — Photo-Artistry by kenne
The Weary Blues
— Langston Hughes
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon, I heard a Negro play. Down on Lenox Avenue the other night By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light He did a lazy sway . . . He did a lazy sway . . . To the tune o’ those Weary Blues. With his ebony hands on each ivory key He made that poor piano moan with melody. O Blues! Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool. Sweet Blues! Coming from a black man’s soul. O Blues! In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan— “Ain’t got nobody in all this world, Ain’t got nobody but ma self. I’s gwine to quit ma frownin’ And put ma troubles on the shelf.”
Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor. He played a few chords then he sang some more— “I got the Weary Blues And I can’t be satisfied. Got the Weary Blues And can’t be satisfied— I ain’t happy no mo’ And I wish that I had died.”
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that’s dead.
I’m a Hispanic because that’s what I’m branded… I’m not a race I’m but a culture… I’m but a mixture conquered by vultures… I’m these urban streets that flow within me… I’m from an island that I rarely see… I’m born and bred a natural survivor… I’m not a color for that’s a divider… I’m but a being spirit real strong… I’m but a mixture African, Indian, White… I’m but a person blessed with true sight … I’m but a warrior prepared for a fight… I’m but a culture my race is all mixed… Spaniards on a quest that came over on ships… I’m but of mixed slaughtered beautiful races… Embedded with this language from foreign places … I Speak a language that came from blood shed… The Indian and African in me will never be dead… I’m a loud voice a candle that burns… I’m but a sponge that absorbs as I learn… I’m but a culture a bunch of lost tribes… I am what I am till the day I die…
At dark yesterday, Tucson celebrated its 25th All Souls Procession, with over 100,000 people participating or watching along the procession route. Dressed in customs, painted faces, and carrying pictures, it’s a night to mourn, remember and celebrate lost loved ones walking the miles-long procession. This annual event has become one of the most important, inclusive, and authentic public ceremonies in North America.
All Souls Procession
Thousands merge in the Old Pueblo Some to stand on the curb, Others to walk in the procession.
They gathered at Toole and Congress – Painted faces, masks, costumes, floats And banners honoring the dead.
Positioning near the start, Street and flashing lights Replacing the daylight.
Darkness setting the stage For the night walkers to rise Moving to a steady drum beat.
Whimsical maidens carry urns of the dead Collecting names of loved ones to be Ceremonially burned at procession’s end.
A Whitman sound in the dark, Beat! Beat! Drums! Mind, not the walkers.
They move slowly in the procession, Holding old stained photographs, Beat! Beat! Drums!
View from Guthrie Peak Trail, Catalina Highway to the Right, Down Through Sycamore Canyon, Thumble Peak, Blackett’s Ridge, Tucson,
The Tucson Mountains with The Quinlan Mountains on the Tohono O’odham Nation In The Distance.
— Image by kenne
Tall trees stand behind Scrubs cover the mountainside Through which a road runs.
Rocky peaks reach up Form a desert silhouette Above the basin.
Clouds move slowly by Cover parallel ranges Hugging Old Pueblo.
Translations: casa=house, caramba=goodness, que pasa=what gives, con mucho cuidado=carefully, cosas=things, aquí and allí=here and there, y=and, los niños=the children, camas=beds, vestidos=gowns, cabezas=heads, esperando=hoping, waiting, nixtamal=ground corn for tamales, buñuelos=sugar-coated fritters, la estufa=the stove, y como!=and how!, chile rojo=red chile, la familia=the family, feliz=happy, a todos=to all.
Live Jazz In The Old Pueblo — Photo-Artistry by kenne
“Come Blow Your Horn” — Image by kenne
Old Pueblo Cactus & Windows — Image by kenne
Tucson Folk Festival — Image by kenne
Old Pueblo Christmas — Computer Art by kenne
All Souls Procession — Computer Painting by kenne
View from Guthrie Peak Trail, Catalina Highway to the Right, Down Through Sycamore Canyon, Thumble Peak, Blackett’s Ridge, Tucson,
Source — 
Images by kenne
Becoming is Superior to Being 