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Brent Kincaid Feb 2016
In old New Orleans
Musical lumberjacks
Legitimizing their axes;
Just piano, clarinet,
Bass and the drums.
Bringing jazz back
And then some.

The cat could play
That skinny long black horn,
Hotter clarinet than
Anybody ever born,
He kept hitting notes
So pure and high
We felt each note
In our eyes!

And, if you chance by
Remember this,
They don’t allow dancing.
But when the drummer
Makes works those skins
And makes them talk out
There is plenty of toe-tapping
And nobody ever walks out.

Then, when the guy
Plays that bass fiddle
He adds an underscore
To top bottom and middle.
It’s an underbeat of grace
That will fill the rest space
And the hearts of all
In this overcrowded place.

Vintage jazz roars out
Of an old, old piano
Played by a happy madman
With fingers afire, he knows
He’s got them hooked;
He’s making them wild
As he wails on those keys
He looks out and smiles
And he puts the Satchmo touch
On those old-timey songs

And once in a while
They ask us to sing along.
For the past forty-six years
Those ugly plastered walls
Have never hear so many
Gratefully rendered curtain calls
From an audience of clerks and swells.
On Bourbon Street’s Fritzel’s.
Through hurricanes and beers
Like stepping back a hundred years.
Fats is still playing, Bessie singing
Original jazz music is still swinging.
Wk kortas Apr 2017
He is in his rooms in the Kenmore Hotel,
Once-gracious lady favored by the ancient city’s elite,
Now tired old harlot patching and spackling with powders and rouges
In a vain attempt to camouflage the slide toward oblivion,
Only fit for unwitting out-of-towners
And those with short-term business transactions to ply
(He stays there out of nostalgia, perhaps,
Or possibly because they’d let him through the door without question
Back when that was far from a given,
Or maybe because it was the trumpet players’ place,
The story being that Bunny Berigan had once left a horn
As payment for an outlandish and fabulously overdue bar tab.)
He is holding court with a local features writer,
Another interview in another town,
(Ostensibly a one-on-one sit-down,
But his suite more like Sears the weekend before Christmas:
Band members doing walk-through warm-ups,
Friends old and new darting in and out,
Lucille frantically mother-henning the whole process)
Juggling many hats as he speaks,
Part-time salesman for semi-herbal quasi-diet aids,
Mirthful mangler of malapropos,
All rolling forth with with an air of street-level entrepreneurship,
But there is a more stolid, settled quality about him now,
The assumption of the mantle of icon
(Bestowed upon him by a continent
Far from his birth, but still)
And the time comes for him to begin the warm-up,
Starting with a high note here, a low note there,
Until he finds one note, that note,
A thing not constrained by lead sheets, acoustics,
Indeed any human construct at all.
On the street outside, two young men,
All stingy brimmed hats, narrow ties,
And not-quite top-line silk mohair suits
(Flipped in and out of the pawn shop
Any number of times, but still)
Shoes shined to a military gleam,
Walking with a gait which implies
That they are hustlers, yes,
But men of substance, nonetheless.
One of them hears the note,
And wonders aloud,
Man, who’s got a horn like that
Around this neighborhood?

(Neither of them deign to look up toward the hotel,
As, for them, threat and opportunity
Is something that exists strictly at street-level)
But his partner grunts dismissively,
Never even breaking stride,
Man, just some old **** fool
Playin’ some old tom’s records
.
Geno Cattouse Dec 2013
Vacay in a piano case.bathtub

ginn.pin stripes and fedoras.

Canadian club.speaks easy at the cotton club.
moonshine met primtime.

Blues came north and jazzed up New York
SATCHMO opened eyes. Chi towns tommy gun law.
sheen gun Kelly with a belly gun as chaser.
Granny flapped in the roaring 20s.
Then
1929
Went
Pop
And the party stopped.

LAST CALL FOR ALCOHOL.
Edward Laine May 2012
All the trees with polythene leaves like ghosties trapped in branches.

Dancing drunk with headphones on//& you are the taste in my mouth.

My only ambition is to one day, some how, if only for a moment, be completely angelic.

I dreamt that my eye lids were reflective thoughts on the balcony.

I guess it just boils down to one final rule - EVERYBODY HAS GOT TO **** SOMETHING.

Walking home with Satchmo.

It’s never too late, fall down the stairs.

If I had a car I wouldn’t have to pay rent.

The lights on the buildings shut off when they see me coming.

Walk by the river until there’s blood in my shoes.

You dress like a jumble sale & hide your teeth when you smile.

Two left feet & two right shoes.

Go outside. Drink if you want to - (HM).
November 4th

The weather it seems, seems time to put on your coat,
but the way the wind blows,
a way nobody knows
will have you put your coats away,
but as the weathermen say:
”we’ll be delivered from the heat by snow this Thursday.”

Satchmo Bukowski
wants a bottle in front of me
not a frontal lobotomy.
What’s it to stop drinking?
smoking, though—it’s the best season
for it. Rather die than give up.

Yeah, my ****’s distorted, same with my story
that I tell you now, but it lives each day twice—
but like Christ down the mountain
I come forth emblazoned,
no more reckless nor hopeful than him.

Halloween here, we saw the dead dress up.
We pulled together costumes
while estimating the temperature.
As the day shortens
and night falls as you clock out,
so our phase of experience does;
so the creatures of dark troll;
so the climb though the black berry patch
becomes the only visible path.
Victor Tripp Dec 2015
Born into the world as Louis Armstrong , he was called "pops'' in jazz
Circles  or Satchmo when he picked up his trumpet on the Ed Sullivan  Show  and London heard the black and blue notes
Notes sounded in Copenhagon too
Sadness was turned into joy every time he blew
Notes higher and higher in tune
And each one spanked like a bad boy
Even Bourbon street picked up Louie's sweet vibe
I got the magic touch,
that's shift like a clutch,
No automatic,
Only to my foes who cause static,
Rap fanatic,
Since day one, since my birth some,
Spiritual ****,
Dawned on me from adolescence,
To adulthood,
I was misunderstood, as a kid still tryna
Find me a gig,
I can stick to, dusted off the sadness,
Pioneered summer madness,
Potency too high, to pass this,
Love the girlies with the fat *****,
Peep the classics,
As I make like a biblical Ecclesiastic,
I'm Thomas times two,
Black version of Sun Tzu,
If you ain't feeling me,
I got heat that'll feel you,
Thrill you,
Michael Jackson of this rap game,
But no R and B ****,
From hell to the heavens feel this,
Grill this,
One to ya dome, til I touch
The funeral home,
I sit like Hermes all alone, on the high
And almighty throne,
God gave me this curse, but why, make a blessing
Out of the worse,
Never chased the thirst,
I get a ****** healing, from the old Egyptian goddesses appearin',
Over my flesh, in the form of a ghost, telling me I'm the closest to host,
Next to God's of the Olympus rougher than
The streets of Memphis,
But ain't no Kingin' me ****, watch fo the Jesse's around me,
Cuz ya closest friends to thee,
Be ya main enemy,
Check the
Caesar to Brutus analogy,
Old age philosophy, sorry but no apology,
My manhood confronts me,
True masculinity in the,
Face of the media hate me well,
But I was made tough, so
It's hard to crack this shell,






Yo Nas closed the session,
Well let me re-open the session,
Count the blessin',
That I've been givin', minus the stressin',
Mics I'm testin',
MC lyte type chicks, too my left
And my right,
Played Poor George hype, watch for the verbs, when I snipe,
Steel mosquito too many shots of Cuervo,
Reformed my circle,
Expose those, tryna sink my vessel,
Coffin seats, when I
Ride in the caddy or the linc,
Open ya eyes, but don't blink,
Or ya might miss, a witness
Of my magnificence,
Something for ya soul,
To replenish this,
Never held my hand on the bible,
Only nines three eighty's and my rifles,
Despiteful,
Haters love to leech a spoonful,
Of greed,
cut off the ties, and watch em bleed,
John Wick tactics,
Reflexes like a cat flip, change the plays
Of the script,
The world ain't yours, if hells on earth,
Never done, with the spiritual chores,
Got a few scars,
Bench presses chest cut tight, and pull ups
On the bars,
Aiyo, I aim pass the stars, yo I'm serious, dogon knowledge,
Got me feelin' superior,
Hotter than the heat, that shines
On your interior,
Make foes inferior,
Black faces taking over the races,
Check the history trigger,
Blast from the past,
Spin chaos like Taz, old school Satchmo
Razzmatazz, spaz,
Over beats like this, plus the ice is crisp,
Like the drink in my cup,
Keep ya Hennessy up,
Silence the corrupt, once I step on the scene, I focused on points,
Instead of cream,
Follow ya dream, dish the team, silencers
Scoped for the beams,
Laser eye fly guy, sound the thunder, watch me the god, appear from the skies,
Tis the seasons, find something to believe in,
Everyday new grieving,
Hard to be on the receiving in,
Money is the ultimate ambition x2


Manifested knowledge, without putting work through college,
Check my collage, philosophy of agony, y'all probably,
Ain't really feeling me, cuz my bars ain't about gun bars,
I'm all about ours, self respect over the tech, position my intellect,
Universal mind control, I sealed my soul, got more soul than Satchmo,
As the horns blow, melodies bleeding from
Heavens symphony,
Hell ain't too far behind, I been a pinhead since I was breed,
Into this unit of flesh, this is just a test, so how can I manifest,
Ingest the hungers of pain, in my brain on the edge of the insane,
Melanin seeds, yes indeed, I only put positive thoughts,
To intrigue the souls of people, yo
I give em what they need,
Backed off reality, took a look at my own
Autobiography,
Paper and pen, I write it properly, locked into
This earths prison property,
And I still shed, tears from my baby, though she long away and gone,
I still vibe off that old song, dancing and everyday romancing,
At night, I peep the stars glistening, close my mind to listen,
Deep within, I see the spoils of sins, can't break the imminent vision,
Of prophecies, written on a scroll, my soul feels of the old, rock and roll,
This is the wake up show, wear we seize hate and let the love grow, Yo






Gazing off into space, tryna find a pace
In this everyday rat race,
But that ain't the case, folks love to stick ya
Like paste then waste,
Ya feelings onto the streets, my soul can't even speak no more,
Wonder why we at war, with each other for, either rich or poor,
I sit on the surface core, to explore, new life of meaning in between,
No hate can intervene and, peeling,
Back the layers of time,
Still gotta get mines, no time to let chaos
In my mind, as I grind,
New version of sunshine, no lights flickering
From one time,
Or brothers to drops gems on a dime, still got hopes in mankind,
If we just peeped, the seven signs, cities of many golden hills,
Sway from the shills, and the government wheels, that roll on,
Like the band that plays on,
Different dance new beat, that you can hum along, the weak or strong,
Still feel the high off the seventies strung, and all madness that rung,
Fifty years later, still ain't feeling greater, seems more evil caters,
To good men no pretend, still stuck on false
Dividends,
Lyrical contortionist, the arsonist, hard for y'all to part from this,
Digest this feel, in ya soul like soul food, laying out smooth grooves,


Tis the seasons, find something to believe in,
Everyday new grieving,
Hard to be on the receiving in,
Money is the ultimate ambition x2
Ken Pepiton Aug 2021
Some stories come with songs,
some waltz in a lone, strange peace,
with surface tension
signaling

something jes'wentwright, mmhmm
wrought by god,
twang taut copper wire whisting
twing crash
shards of ceramic insulation, change
of situation
- we were running stone to stone
suddenly,
the girl, it was a girl, kicked a stone
she oughta stepped on and moved on,
but
she stepped out of line, so now,
she limps,
no need for me to tell her, once more,
there is always a place to put your foot,
- too long the blame, how long the shame?

a messenger on the barefoot road knows,
some songs are for the journey joy,
some are for home come joy,
some are for always joy.
some are for once.
For me.
It ain't easy. But there's plants. Listen.
Listen,
as a mortal message, Hear this,
does not remove the power
in the word, read.

gulpunctuated inequilibrium'n al alaq
don't choke
this is no joke…
Had the most famous hearer of that message,
"READ"
obeyed, what a wonderfilled world might this be,
eh, Satchmo?
watchawatcha wa wah
shooobeepshaboom shake it all shake it all

whata wonder full world we see….

see the shelter fade… words as ash remain,
to remind me of the wrightminder
just burned on this point.

For a story that wished to be poetry, just once
more.
Freedom of the press belongs to the press owner, according to B. Franklin and W. Blake... an adage easier to prove these days. No lie.
Speed racer, coke chaser, sting ya with da, vivid laser,
Shock ya visor, spiritual adviser, learned game wiser,
Three kings, searching for the north, star, looking afar,
I par, from evil ways, these days, most folks in th grey's,
Black and white, mentality cant see pass the fakery,
Enemies, front street, guns and blood,for satan's keep,
Demons fleet, amongst the humans, how can God love us,
When I see so much ****** amongst us, hunger,
For graves, lives cant be saved, see ya thoughts,grazed,
Feel these sting rays, Gillespie blows, link w Satchmo,
Yo, you know the spots bout to blow, carnage hickory,
Savagery, played across the scenery, long forged victory,
My mind was brought, by paying, attention, to ambition,
Let off ammunition, at the invisible, commission, convicting,
All my past sins, along with fake friends, looking for bends,
In the game, fifteen seconds a fame, just to loose, my name,
Nah, I rather toast the flame, yo you know the name, shame,
Love to lay with guilt, pleasure, and pain, all the same game,
For many years, struggled tattoo tears, bleed our fear,
Picture the face, with no face, beat any case, lace up the place,
With the styles, of  Chase Manhattan, see the flows batting,
Above average, better yet, a thousand, island wildin,
Out every time, I lay out, excellence mic performance, golden,
Glaring, like a touch of honey, dripping of the comb,
Girls staring me, down, wave blue magic crown, sounds,
Sweet soulful, vinyl touch seventy, beautiful skins, heavenly,
Lifetime of crimes, but I still, love amongst the blinds,
Many signs, of angels, garlic shots for vampire spots,
Watch em fly away, duck when the words say, prey day,
Who stop.the predator, news editor, rumbling thunder,
Critics under, pressure guns lay the measure, stretcher,
Very skill, against my will, I ain't scared to die, from a ****,
War trained veteran, combat like david, not a Letterman,
Comprehend, a fews words, chipped in, luxury mind clippin,
Sippin, off the henny, rub a bottle, out pops, a genie,
In a bikini, looking ****, she tried to get next to me, see,
She just another succubus, waiting for me bust, dust,
Me at the fiery , crossroads I rather stay, with the spiritual glow,


Looking at the tears, after the laughter, see the disaster,
Laid amongst, the citizens, where am I again, living in sins,
Perdition, just the ending of the beginning, sending,
All my fakes, that wish me hell, see ya soul dwell, sing shells,
Shotguns looking lovely, ****, when she laying next to me,
Bringing prophecy, in the form of tragedy, ya majesty,
Take a blast at me, skip the gates, of the heavenly, beverly,
Been on the hills, watch the thrills, how many love, blood spills,
No chills, see them feeling rusty, to many folks dusty, musty,
Cuz they cant clean they thoughts, I stay casket sharp, harp,
The strings of Robert Johnson, gangsta blues, dejavu,
Beat down crews, give em a taste, of what texas, ****** do,
Yo miss the hearse, funeral my casket, caped these *******,
Thinking they mastered, I caster, the seeds, fill the needs,
Of the dying breeds, pride I swallow, I'll go out, like Apollo Creed,
Rocky Balboa, stamina swole, feel depths, of a soul glow,
Went to rich, from poor, mentality up my locality, in divinity,
No fake in me, I been real, since the birth of the hip hop,
Walked out my cradle, with the shanks, and a toasted bagel,
Excuse me, I'm talking about my guns, clips for ecstasy,
Love my girls ebony, thick fit, thighs looking Pepsi, crispy,
Once I I knock the flavors, forget all the, wannabe jocks,
I keep it lock, like a Senate, hard to survive, satan's pendant,
See me in it, to win it, flip my biscuit, music, for ya mellow soul,
Stroll with me, as we vibes, to old school, hallow destiny,
Saw jesus, before he hit thirty three, he advised me, to see,
The world, hate it much, but love the soul, daring touch, clutch,
Only what'sreal, shoot through cupid's heart, with these darts,
Tomorrows never promise, follow the wisdom, of Thomas,
Gospel, gangsta disciples, holding bibles, with rifles, rivals,
Cant match up, I'm draped up, king tut, with the snake, bezel,
Word to devils, that try to get on my level, no nah, check the maw,
Never spit, what I never saw, combat stats, sticking like tats,
And that's, where I draw the line, brace, melanin for sunshine,
One line, I take a snort, miss the courts, back at up the beach,
Near the miami airport, distort those who thought, they had the fort..
Word up
Riding on wisdom saddles,
Looking at those in a babble,
Social media, bubble heckles,
Souls spotted like a speckle,
I can't help what I seen,
Can't unseen what I saw,
My soul is so keen, to the unseen,
Universal signs of law,
Angels blowing trumpets like satchmo,
With a humor like Groucho,
Marks this day in age,
Another turn from the page,
In the day of life, closed in on strife,
Death cuts like a knife,
Deep inside, we try to hide,
But we can't hide, forever,
Life and death can't be severed,
Fading footprints, of the unconscious,
Talks of nonsense,
Trying live up to that and this,
But life goes on and on,
These media freaks have us leeched on,
To less of right, and more to wrong,
It's just that same sad song,
Repeating in our carnal minded heads,
Everyday we make our beds,
Walk out into a world,
Where no words are said,
Spiritually dead, in a mental coffin,
To often, I feel the soften,
Acting with a heart of stone,
But deep down, they're alone,
Waiting for the day of atone,
Another place where only, the
Angels roam,
I see three heavens along,
The side of the earth,
Lighted beings, being dimmed,
As Azreal, makes his trim,
Fear not, those who **** the body, but rather the soul and energy,
Who am I, I am he and he is, an imagine of me, the darkest energy,
Move only by the multiples of three,
Six and nine trilogy,

"So mote it be"
Born as a desert bird black hearse sheppard
Far from the Lord most largely ignored
Went back to the drawing boards for my vocal chords light up ya spinal chords
A rappin' Moor sickamore flow blows like satchmo
Off of the roof tops tops drops cashed stocks
No bail bonds once im locked on
These bars crash a galaxy stars Mars
To earth see my girth and my true worth
Infinite word to the dark senate independent
Fools hate to see me spin it winded
Out my opponents exposed to an exponent
Who want it taunt it my guns blazin' horrors to the top of the auroras
Flashback relapse ya life collapse
Perhaps you need to take precaution
I cause exhaustion when I breath in oxygen
Injectin' cold carcinogen sippin' gins
Golden boy dojo this ain't taebo **
Let me show you how to flip this dough
P cooked this beat so now it's time to eat
Greet melanin's activated from the obsolete
Black mind's that didn't get to speak
Flowin' up **** creek watchin' for the Meeks
Inherit the earth four corners spread
Imagine all the thorough heads shed-ding
Bloodshed black Genghis these fools singers
Become mock birds once we measure the stingers


Welcome to danger!!!!! Twilight!!





Boomeranging Halle berries yo its kind of scary
Everyday i pace back and forth close to the cemetery
That's my true friend ultimate perdition
I'm tryna find something to believe in lies within
Self learn wisdom yo that's real wealth
Guarded by the spiritual stealths left welts
On the back of my black dot check my plots
Slave descendant rocking drums crescent
Shining once i supper the moons elegance
My presence alone even make demons tense
Silver rings left by the side of my left cheeks
Washing the silent tears that try to speak
They don't want no beef with the Indian chief
Smokin' irons like pipe pieces feces increases
Now you drippin' soon to be sky trippin' rippin'
Through the ozone cosmos daydreams
Found my team once I learn to scheme cycling
Ponzi cool az The Fonzi grandson to Bumpy
Johnson watch the clouts gain pain strains
Even the biggest giants David to Galliaths
See how serious war paths can get you hit
Dont let your emotions send you a free trip
Check the African tip spears thrown out the atmosphere
Split the hemisphere
Parted the windy ways that sways cardinal obeys
Its the order of nature
Says met up with the mystic gryphon liftin'
Gave me an invisible crown whisperin'
How to operate my enemies drag em to their knees
Holdin' a sword over their vocal chords
Ack-nowledge the brother with over a thousand Lords



Welcome to danger!!! twilight!
Kurt Philip Behm Dec 2023
Louis Armstrong …
a class by himself
Not Dixie or Jazz
but much deeper felt

Growing better with age
his music enthralls
If fourteen or forty
his melodies call

Both Ella and Ray
are seated out front
As Satchmo delivers
when others exeunt

Timelessly treasured
he’d broken the mold
Of what sound can measure
—and a smile can hold

(Dreamsleep: December, 2023)
My fondest memoirs of writing was in English
She say write me a stanza while reading Shakespeare
I thought why do I need to know about this queer
Well that's when I feel In love with words
Words are like weapons used for harm or good
Can be like fire to a wood can be a should to a could
All deals in possibilities there is no limitability
I made up that word but who cares it sounds real
Right? Forget it who are they to say what goes
And doesn't go all I know is flow is my principle
Millions of people writing what they are inspired
Transpired or desired by on a daily basis let's face it
Not everyone is built for the same ambition
Writing takes time courage and faces maximum critique
See how many views will be peeped reaped
Over someone's sympathy I'm not trying to win honestly
Only to the minds of free who have no limits be
The possibilities of the universe expands my worth
And girth my mind and soul are infinite but my body
Is morality a state of constant breaking close to
The site of a necropolis as the moon glances
Over the foggy souls and wet tombs that blooms
Through the darkest hours of the night don't loose sight in
Me I see you looking carefully plotting the mind
On trying to figure out what am I saying or conveying
The ultimate riddle is never ending it never ends
This is only a cycle of illusion painted as reality
But I see reality in another form of actuality
The spirits are here aliens dancing in the stars
Sparkling all over the home is the skies to them
Spaceships are merely a traveling thoughts
Most often aren't seen like you can't see your mind
But you can feel what's in it sort of like that??
Poetry loves me like a oceans deep tide waiting to crash
Against the ever so gentle shore to store
Shells jellyfish and seaweeds on the shore only to
Be washed back in again once the storms begin
A reflection of night vs light clouds vs the seas
Enjoy the breeze of wisdom as the wondering fan
Over nature touches the skins pores out adores
The beautiful out of insanity what a wonderful World
Like Satchmo said out of all the troubles crimes
And or other chaos I think of the beautiful trees
The roses that shoot out of the concrete cracks
Well now that I've reformed my thoughts about poetry
I now live by unlimited limits of love for poetry
It is my ultimate craze and daze of immorality
Kurt Philip Behm Oct 2023
Etta was predicting
Stormy Weather
As Ray freed his
Seven Spanish Angels
Roy asked are you still
Running Scared
But Ella was smiling and
Watching Over Me
Peggy gave me that look asking
Is That All There Is
But Kris stepped in to
Help Me Make It Through The Night
***** reminding us all
How Time Slips Away
As Hank made his entrance
That Lonesome Whistle Blowing
Bobby was still bleeding from
Mack The Knife
As Frank flew in on
A Summer Wind
Aretha was breaking
That Chain Of Fools
While BB cried out
The Thrill Is Gone
Smoky was drowning in
The Tears Of A Clown
And Sam kept promising
A Change Is Gonna Come
As the Fat Man looked down
from Blueberry Hill
Elvis chased the
Hound Dog out the back door
But Brenda had our
Emotions running high
When Satchmo assured us  
—It’s A Wonderful World

(Dreamsleep: October, 2023)
Robert Oliva Sep 25
Thelonius Reborn as the Dee Oh Double Gee

If we rhyme metaphorically , reach back historically, spit out new styles  just like Miles, compose tunes that Trane, John Coltrane, would be proud to compile, or like the Bird, Charlie Parker, bravely brake rules, take take take, the music apart, do you  honor Darwinian progress? Do you demand excellent art? Then you might might be from Hip- Hop,  yeah, that's where many geniuses start. The way each style, with its own honed sharpened edge, achieved unique prominence,  it’s just Chi Town Commonsense.
It's simple, it's like nature, there is no fakers, take Kanye West or Chet Baker. Satchmo begets Biggy, Tupac was influenced by Dizzy. Our Discerning ears are blessed each time new evolutions arise, that redesign and define, unleashing musical highs with no conpromise. Parallels and similarities to cool people like you should be no suprise. Stretching art just for art's sake, eyes eyes eyes, on no other prize.
They got Words and Chords fired with a furious frenzy and a ferocious fluidity. Lines and rhymes scatted so scathingly slow they create this surreal serenity. It Might have you boppin to Hampton, Sir Duke , or Miss Ella? Or tip you to trippin on Twista,  Tribe Quest, Rockafella.
Monk and Snoop, Thelonius and the  D. O. Double G ,they both got game.. Basie the Count, The Clan of Wu Tang, the same. Dedicating days, weeks, even years carefully, lovingly crafting perfection. Giants, and I do mean Giants,  of Hip- Hop and Jazz,share that improvisational connection.
But alas, amidst greatness we are graced, and humbly  each day,I say, Let's embrace the soulful caress that each genre conveys. That Cool Cat may take hip- hop, that Pretty Lady may take jazz, or you can twist the order around. Cause each delivers a pleasure that is non- stop, and that, my amazing people,  is How Music should Sound!!
Bobby O





Robert Oliva Aug 20
Thelonious  Reborn as the Dee Oh Double Gee

If we rhyme metaphorically , reach back historically, spit out new styles  just like Miles, compose tunes that Trane, John Coltrane, would b proud to compile, or like the Bird, Charlie Parker, bravely brake rules, take take take, the music apart, do you  honor Darwinian progress? Do you demand excellent art? Then you might might b from Hip- Hop,  yeah, that's where many geniuses start.
It's simple, it's like nature, there is no fakers, take Kanye West or Chet Baker. Satchmo begets Biggy, Tupac was influenced by Dizzy. Discerning ears are blessed each time new evolutions arise, that redesign and define, unleashing musical highs with no conpromise. Parallels and similarities to cool people like you shud b no suprise. Stretching art just for art's sake, eyes eyes eyes, on no other prize.
Words and Chords fired with a furious frenzy and a ferocious fluidity. Lines and rhymes scatted so scathingly slow they create this surreal serenity. Might have you boppin to Hampton, Sir Duke , or Miss Ella? Or tip you to trippin on Twista,  Tribe Quest, Rockafella.
Monk and Snoop, Thelonius and the  D. O. Double G ,they both got game.. Basie the Count, Clan of Wu Tang, the same. Dedicating days, weeks, even years carefully, lovingly crafting perfection. Giants, and I do mean Giants,  of Hip- Hop and Jazz,share that improvisational connection.
But alas, amidst greatness we are graced, and humbly  each day,I say, Let's embrace the soulful caress that each genre conveys. That Cool Cat may take hip- hop, that Pretty Lady may take jazz, or you can twist the order around. Cause each delivers a pleasure that is non- stop, and that, my amazing people,  is How Music should Sound!!
Bobby O





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