.i'm pretty sure that someone like Mozart, composed, in total silence, didn't hum out a tune, given that he had to micromanage symphony, or rather, the latter stage of polyphony - synchronization of all subsequent parts... whereby music was more optical in its genesis than people might like to believe... of course auditory in its exodus from the godhead, but... i'm pretty sure the composition process for classical music, would never amount to the sort of fun impromptu of jazz... must be a black privilege sort of, "thing" to have found jazz lying around...

how did the beatniks even believe that
a cross-generational mongrel of an art
form, fusing poetry with jazz could ever work?
robert pinsky still has the dream -
but it's a bit like:
      you think you can smoke marijuana
and listen to blues?
              not drink a drop of the devil liquor
and take blues seriously?
       just like sonny clark would have
said: 'if you don't shoot it,
     you don't smoke it'...
         given that... this is not stoner rock
type of wasp hive droning, humming,
heavily repeated rhythm...
              nothing wacky like
thievery corporation doing a live
rendition of the forgotten people
                                             live on KEXP...
what's that phrase?
    i feel monged -
   i.e. so ****** that you don't know
if it's a brain or a jelly,
         a stomach or krāng...
an 8th of an ounce could last me a week...
never mind...
   but how could they even suppose
that, somehow... jazz would dissolve
into acid jazz...
   that ****** variant you don't hear
in a jazz club...
   sure... the one up in Edinburgh was
jazz by name only...
       instead?
   one night i heard the cover
of neil young's song old man...
yeah... very ******* jazzy...
                what's next, a banjo quartet?
first jazz song i ever heard was
art blakey & the jazz messangers'
      opening track from the album
   of the same name - moanin'...
          SOLD...
           had to stash on some of the records...
but did i really want to speak over
the music?
             did i want to contaminate
the music and produce some ****** mash-up
akin to the beatnik experiment?
     *******... high on dope...
              never bothered to call jazz...
the black man's equivalent status of
what white man's classical music is...
     and where's jazz now?
joshua redman isn't exactly a lifejacket
when a boat with 20 is sinking...
jazz has been neglected...
    relegated as posh black boy music
heading off to Yale... wap... or wrap it up...
talk with a mouth but forget playing
the ******* horns, the sax...
              can't exactly see a revival...
   but would i really want to speak to this music?
feels a bit like talking over an opera...
made sense back then, makes little or no sense
now...
                    beside the point...
      there's still a heatwave in england...
every morning i wake up in a furnace -
    or as if attired in a metallurgy suit working
raw metals...
       and i always ask myself the question...
to rehydrate...
   would i rather eat half a watermelon,
or drink a big glass of water?
                         it's always the first.

Is there love in store for me?
Or will I always be just a fling?
Oh can it be?
Cuppid shooting arrows, hear him sing!

But alas its a lie.
The arrows are fates cruel messangers,
Delivering my tail of woe.
The tale stating I must walk this road alone.

All my seasons condensed
are here
and all of writers have passed
Winter Springs Fall Summer
all welcome to my shore
Watch out pounding waves old
like to splash as all of life is play this is my free will on stage
I am an actress you my audience
Entrance is free of charge
donations not required
Beware then
the sun here burns hot like me
no wonder everyone flies by
in their own orbit but few land.
My Aries fire must have some effect only cold bodies seek my heat as they pass careful not to land fearing to burn
The playful moon borrows light from sunny sign me tie in
and tie out
dancing round and about
glowing high all alone
shining best by days heat
waxing gibbous waning
crescent
first quarter last
like the pieces of me
mother Earth spins me
messangers notes uplift
or scorn me
beautiful in and out but many
Still fear the fire Ram me
alone but all seasons need me
only one twin celestial body
merged joyfully with mine heat
my once upon a life time partner
my old Irish cream!
I must be Mexican Irish
Perumpecha native
His Gin dubonnet
American with a hint of
Shamrock Trinity
~~~~~~~~~
By: Karijinbba
All rights reserved

my english teacher, a pict, of all people, massive fan of led zeppelin, introduced me to jazz... he just said: if you don't own miles davis' kind of blue by the age you're 30, you're in a shambo (knee deep in ****)... well, a ferocious over-zealous teen like any, i made the purchase aged 16.

after that, it was easy... i borrowed a compilation -
jazz on a summer's day: hot bun these days...
   selling, new, for £61.47... my, that's not bad...
   it might or it might not have
opened with
art blakey & the messangers'
song *moanin'...
if someone doesn't like this song,
let's just say: trying to convince this
person for more jazz is,
     a "bit" pointless;
if this gold standard doesn't
convince the person in question,
where you can feel each of
the instrument's solos...
hmm...
  pontius pilate moment:
snap-chat the rest.
still... i'm thinking of this saxophone
player that played the jazz
standard how deep is the ocean
with such a distinct technique;
ever heard a wheezing out of
breath saxophone player?
the wheezing one,
      the trembling-f-f-f-f one...
god, the name escapes me,
feels like i minding what
lionel nation might provide
with due anecdotes...
         this is going to **** me...
i want to remember his name,
i know i copied the c.d. -
  and mind you, why buy compact discs
these days?
  headphones are too portable,
at at times: to claustrophobic,
cultural appropriation yet? we hit
the high tide watermark?
  oh, i'm not worried about the spaghetti,
just asking, because i was just
going to say: classical music sounds
great in a concert hall, a bit ******
on the radio with all the adverts news
and weather...
    jazz?
         shady bars and certainly the radio...
i've been trying to find a jazz-only
radio station on the english FM / AM scale...
nothing, not even an s.o.s.;
come on, *******-it!
what was that saxophone player?!
**** it, whatever, the trembling-f-f-f-f
         bordering on asthma blowing guy...
can't be bothered enough to make the classy
anecdote...
         get lisa simpson on the case...
       i heard that robbie pinsky is still
on the case, hat off to you mate,
for those nostalgia pieces,
    or reviving the beatnik **** of poetry
& jazz...
           i wouldn't know where to begin:
i talk into the **** thing,
i don't talk over it...
  looks a "bit" crap, given rap...
  then again rap has become a mono-syllable
rhyming machine: ye yeah ye yeah um yeah
ye um yeah...
              mr. boombastic?
          mr. luvva luvva... ooh...
      slobbering mr. spastic, mr. fantastic,
diaper donning, hush ooh, shoo hugs shoo...
give up the buttocks for...
      white self-consciousness just kicked in,
and i feel like a middle-aged dad of three kids
and embarrassing a niece at her wedding...
****...
   even i know that ini kamoze
        made relative sense, by comparison.