it was the musicology of the roman notation
that gave us such beautiful music, until now,
how                  A       wasn't noted as alpha (α)
or                      B        wasn't noted as beta (β)
but bee                        or hive or beehive or begin,
such musical authority worth a crucifixion
just so the alphabet might survive... and indeed
worth keeping, until jazz dismembered the
classical orchestra with impromptu,
and that became carried through to a **** music
of lost woodwind brass and scratching tightened
horse main (mane,
a tongue's musicology is equal to be coupled
with dyslexia) hairs against strings of violins
with the once recognisable lack of percussion
in orchestra... to a now apparent sole percussion
orchestration without a hoped for whistle of
recognition and tap-dancing a singing-in-the-rain song
of carefree life with a battery life concern missing...
that brief moment of jazz, a white man's equivalent
of classical music... and oh how sweetly it degenerated
so that the former atlas dares not rise to the ecclesiastical
heights of composers being sponsored by bishops
and cardinals... where once soul breathed freely
as music, now the heart aches thumping, thumping,
thumping a sort of unconscious rhythm of
what music has become: a b b beat to hone out car horns
and diesel engines where once the horse's gallop
hoof on cobble stone and hot nostril snarl was.