jazz
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There I was listening and minding my own business
when something in me stlartled and was awakened as If we had
known each other for a long long long time
Its smooth , calm melodies and with gentle thrust moving me
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Not of voice
nor an
utterance.
Not a coming
into
language,
- but without
words,
primeval,
- communication
nontheless.
Pure melody-
sound
conduit
of emotions
I often think of us as a time of day
early evening, late July
cherry trees swaying in golden hour light
I float home with you
every step a bit of music
Oh yeah, it's our music
Good ole U.S. beats
The flying of the piano keys
The woo woo woo of the trumpet
Then we got the sax--that birdie bugle
And our bass, deep pluckings.
We hear it in our elevators
I feel it again,The ferocious beating of calypso drums,Coursing through my fingers,Creating foul beings.These false shadows of which have burst forth from my skin,Have created a jazz band of sin.
When I'm feeling kind of blue
Instead of letting these feelings down me
I listen to Kind of Blue
And when I close my eyes
I feel the space around me
As you hear a note from the distance,
what do you think it will be?
It is a sound of balance,
don't you agree?
As you walk closer to the sound,
you see a persond playing.
It jazz all around
The warm blast of the horns,
The high trills of the flute,
Get me out of bed fater than a kick with a boot
Play that trumpet all night long
Move those hips side to side
Let them black bodies swing with glee
It's Jazz
Sway your body to and fro
Let your body move itself
Throw back your head and let out a yelp.
Trumpet player played the blues
His soul out there for the world to see
But none take him seriously
What does it matter?
This metaphorical island, this situation beyond comprehension
The tension in realizing that there is one item you need.
Rustling through the reed across the sandy coast
You, my dear, are the stone that sinks my stomach
All the birds in the high trees of my thoughts come down to investigate
the trouble you make, gurgling deep down in the depths of my mind
Staccato-ed and fleeting in full,
the lulling beat somehow lazy
hazily sauntering away
honeyed notes broken on the pavement like sparkling glass
glittering and useless,
passing throaty smoke like cigarettes
To spill the anger burning inside,
To caress the heart crying,
To impede the endless thinking of mine,
To prevent myself from dying.
To cherish the precious memories made,
You work and it's for nothing
You try and practice over and over
Loving the keyboard like a child
Touching it like a lover
And it rejects you
You spend hours trying to play
The cold, unforgiving bleachers
Sat stoically that day,
Catching tears as they dripped.
An endless slideshow played,
Showing a joyful boy
Of only 10.
Notes.
Not like the ones
made of trees.
Floats.
across the air,
through the keys.
Jazz Pianists' fingers tell no lies,
traveling through the
White and Black Sky.
Jazz bar
Ten to midnight
Love Jones furniture
Starlit evening
with smooth jazz
and a cocktail
scented air we can both enjoy
with our festive drinks. We'll be
sitting at the booths
Only a little too late,
to hear the cry of the clarinet,
have my heart beat in sync with the bass,
emotions match the call of brass,
or so be serenaded by the sweet, seductive hum of the saxophone.
Jazz has a voice,
It speaks to me.
As I sleep deep,
Or as my feet take turns hitting the concrete street.
In the Chi-town heat, when you’ve met all the folks you could meet;
Jazz is the speaker.
There was once a jazzy song
When heard would make you dance along
We swung and we swayed
We danced a soiree
Oh how we loved that old jazzy song
Oh, Jazz, I won’t submit to your past form:
You swing the eighths in many bluesy tunes,
The awkward rhythm pains me to perform.
An art that has seen quite a many moon,
The silence fears me, Softly, slowly growing louder,Nearly Reaching a low murmur, a hum, a buzz,Clouding the quiet as I make a sound,Out it comes.
Thumping, kicking,
The sun is going down, but I don't mind
the sun is going down, but I don't mind
Kind people are hard to find so I,
With a Godly breathe
he inhales the heavy, yet
hollow whispers of the night
siphoning the miniscule remnants of assurance
loosely woven, each with its own cynical thread
Hear those trumpets scream and shrill
Hear that bass so cool and chill
Listen to the trombones sliding
Back and forth
and forth and back
Listen to the saxes how sultry they sound
The music begins and I get this little smile
I haven't herd this type of music in quite a while
The trumpet begins its bee boppin beat
Everyone all at once is dancing in the streets
Her first night out as a flapper girl,
And he was a man of the band.
One thing they both had in common,
They really loved jazz.
She stood with her friends and swayed,
To the rhythm of the drums,
I want to taste jazz on my lips as it swims through brass tubes and valves-
I want its echo to call my name on a still night in July from a bar down the road.
When morning light cracks, my skull rattles to ear-piercing bebop saxophone
Prize-fighter in the corner, crave the bell, you pitbull,
crushed ankles will likely give out, useless things
I Am The Waves In The Ocean And The Roots Of The Trees.
I am wind and thunder and rain.
I am the image of my father, Kemet.
I am soil and breath and soul.
I am Africa personified.
In the way I walk
