Jazz

blacksparrow79

First twitch of a full motion

goes unnoticed.

Like a signal in foreign tongue

frantic SOS

Tapping small fires to spark the pyre.

Movement begins

Rising and falling

Breathing and unraveling...

Dancing.

A sudden stutter places itself 

Into a rhythm only one alone can feel.

Percussion interrupts brain patterns

with the libations of groove...

Groove baby

shake a hip,

tap that toe...

take a hit off this jazz

You know.

Feels like standing in winter

during summer.

Chilly and sweaty.

Subliminal. Tinny...

Yeah....

Stumbling into the periodicity of its trap

Is a committed abandon of any chance

at boring.

No Mrs. Mundane.

This bass is not for the feint.

It's an IV drip to your soul train.

A liquid hit to the main vein.

That one.

The central nerve.

Adjust the dose

and increase the reverb.

Suddenly you're in ecstasy,

blending in with the music

and it's plasticity.

This is hot baby

Fire!

and your the VIP

Trip the light fantastic

Grab ahold of me.

Lets shake these worn out midnight blues

fill the halls

of exhaustion

with our dancing shoes.

Jazz.

Slips wisdom from wit

feels like a great leather coat

that still fits.

Pronouncing youth

Formally

In every intonation

Glory.

Groove baby.

Soul lives in the cracks of every 

worn out pavement.

Soul lives in the sounds of every child.

In the movement of every creature

running wild.

Soul. Sounds.

Like jazz.

 

  • Author: J. Black (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 13th, 2022 02:19
  • Comment from author about the poem: Miles Davis on Tuesday... something said write it down i suppose. Enjoy.
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 14
  • Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
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Comments +

Comments5

  • orchidee

    Good write B.

  • Saxon Crow

    Yep. That'll do. Very enjoyable

  • Saxon Crow

    Yep. That'll do. Very enjoyable

  • L. B. Mek

    'A sudden stutter places itself
    Into a rhythm only one alone can feel.
    Percussion interrupts brain patterns
    with the libations of groove...'

    'No Mrs. Mundane.
    This bass is not for the feint.
    It's an IV drip to your soul train.
    A liquid hit to the main vein.
    That one.
    The central nerve.
    Adjust the dose
    and increase the reverb.'

    'Soul lives in the cracks of every
    worn out pavement.
    Soul lives in the sounds of every child.
    In the movement of every creature
    running wild.
    Soul. Sounds.
    Like jazz.'..
    (dear Artist/Poet
    you know this already
    but I'll double down
    you're: Awesome!)
    'reading these, eloquence
    of an ode
    to that Jazz so many adore
    but can't identify
    that elusive, why
    in their enjoyment
    of music
    incumbent, to making us
    feel
    rather than, simply
    admire, move with and think
    well, for me at least
    is like
    hearing, never 'listening'
    to Albert Ayler's, 'Spirits'
    for that very first time
    and having all your friends
    clasp their ears, bewildered
    while you, like a fool
    begin a smile
    you carry with you
    all through, life..'
    thank you!
    for choosing to share
    your genius

    • blacksparrow79

      I'm humbled by your comment Sir,
      I was on the bench about jumping onto a public forum with any of my work honestly. And maybe not for fear of judgement or adoration but rather personal exposure. I love jazz ... I love music and poetry. This was a challenge to get right for me. I'm so elated it spoke to others as well. Thank you thank you.

    • dusk arising

      I'm with you, I feel it, I play it, i live it. And it's so strange to me that others cannot feel it but I am long past really caring. Once it's inside you it oozes out into everything, everyday, everywhere.
      Play on...

      • blacksparrow79

        Thank you kind Sir. So happy there are lover of jazz here to share this with



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