Poetry By J.B. Stone

The Ballad of Joey Crown: A Poetic Tribute to the Twilight Zone’s “Passage of the Trumpet”

Joey plays the trumpet
Hoping that the alcohol he once used to drown his sorrows,
Under the fire escapes of dark alley way,
Will be left in the bar where it belongs
He still reaches for the bottle of bourbon
Hoping not only his thirst is quenched,
But his depression is soothed

He knows this isn’t the answer so he smashes the bottle
As the shattered shards of glass lay on the cold unforgiving ground
Remind him of the first time he saw his life shattered into pieces
The first set of friends he lost
The first girl he ever loved, but received none in return
The first venues to rejects his gigs
The first time his music failed to make someone cry, or laugh, or smile

Joey stumbles in the shadows, wishing the cool night air,
And brightening marquees
Will stimulate serotonin levels of happiness in the brain
Just something to mend the unfulfilled fragments of his soul,
Because playing his trumpet was all he had to give him purpose
Now it's morning, and Joey has given up
He’s given up on life, given up on his dreams

Joey waits until the pawn shop opens
He rushes inside and trades his priceless gift of talent,
For a cheap gift in the form of just a few extra bucks
He steps out of the store
All of sudden--
Eerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!
A service van runs him down without any yield,
Waking to a world of ghosts
Questioning if he is dead or only dreaming

Joey walks throughout a world of spirits,
Masked in the guise of everyday life
The Movie Theater is there
The convenience store is here
As he walks this apparitional plain
He hears sultry yet gentle sounds,
Sounds only heard from such a brightening bugle

Joey searches and searches through the hallowed scenery of the dead,
And through the sound of music he meets a music maker
A man named Gabriel, who for all intents and purposes let's call him an "angel"
He tells joey the value of his song
How shortcuts through a bottle
Don't equate to the spread of joy from one's rhythm and melody
How life is too short to make it shorter by reaching for the whiskey flask
To bring himself and others sorrow
Instead of the trumpet that he knows will bring him joy and others as well

Joey is reminded of why he played his horn in the first place and his purpose is resurrected
I wish for those struggling with alcoholism,
And other facets of drug addiction,
Who traded in their ambition and talent
For a packet of pills and a melancholy round of drinks
Could find this second chance
I have no idea if angels exist,
But just think of we could be the Gabriel to all of the joey crowns of the world
We all would feel like kings and queens

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Bio: J.B. Stone, was recently published with two poems featured in The Occulum, and flash fiction which will be part of the summer issue vol. 2 of 121 words Flash Fiction. A performance poet as well, Stone has performed his work at the 100,000 poets & Artists for Change, the Toronto International Poetry Slam, Who's It 716: Battle of the Genres,  the Pure Ink Poetry slam & open mic, and the Pulse Poetry Slam & Open Mic

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