Fuck Jazz!

tweak-finger dark-foot stepping snip-snipping

night-life grooves

te tssst te te tssst te te tssst te tssst te te tssst te te tssst

tin cats hot roof

blown straight wild out and beat time bright

tapped ticking talk soul

grit and grime and fucked up life

smoked blind and free form

whipping up storms of slated vine

creeping like

gold across the cracked face of the deepest blue blue

looking for the notes

to lose

to let go of

so don’t play what you already know

divination is a bitch of a brew

open up

be vulnerable

be in a place where all is possible

including the pain

a lifetime developing your voice costs blood, skin and bone

but you learn YOU

You-man

dig it

deep and old

time don’t live here

no time

it’s the present

the gift

ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

fuck you

fuck your explanations man

social music conversations

slow breeze-dripped candle-warmed wax

hard and true and no one talks

ever

see how we converse here

silence breeds sound

you dig

we’re all about the sound

you don’t know where it comes from and then it’s gone

and still you don’t know

don’t ever find that again

ever

but you were there

there

HERE

shrieking screamed pain-soaked fuse-lit drama

punches at your conscience

and you blow hard

holding back shadow’s demand that it break splinter and crash it’s way into

real world actuality

scowling at the Tyre-screeching whirly-gig white noise street lit glow

bent with

wails of Hendrix’s future ghost notes

now we’re cooking

raised on fire hardened bongo fury in the crucible of free rhythm

dancing at the table of this irrepressible vodun mix-taped spirit

magik

pure and simple and Miles ahead of the game that only few choose to play

and fewer still master

Originally scrawled onto a notebook whilst watching a movie called Miles Ahead to submit for Amaya’s Jazz Poetry challenge  at dVerse and then subsequently left behind as I took a road trip. Here I am landed again and submitting for OLN at dVerse.

30 thoughts on “Fuck Jazz!

  1. Gospel Isosceles says:

    Ha! That, “so don’t play what you already know
    divination is a bitch of a brew” stood out like a bitch slap from Miles himself and was glad to see you provided the hit at the end. This is the point of jazz, to shake us, aurally slap us out of routine sorcery. Now to go back for another read with the right soundtrack (as opposed to the first time around, Pink Floyd’s highly calculated, near-classical “Echoes” played in the background.) Great one, Paul!

  2. kim881 says:

    I can feel and taste the jazz in this one, Paul, especially:
    ‘tapped ticking talk soul
    grit and grime and fucked up life
    smoked blind and free form’;
    and
    ‘so don’t play what you already know
    divination is a bitch of a brew’.

  3. Glenn Buttkus says:

    I dig the shit out of this one, brother. Your knowledge of music & of jazz push to the forefront, and yet there are several metaphors & smooth philosophy that grab your angles and bring you to your knees–rough as a cob, smooth as bourbon, share edges, rife with run-on non-sequiturs. I love jazz, but don’t play instruments or read music. I like those taunts about finding the perfect pitch and riff, but it improvisation, and it cannot be reproduced in its entirety.

  4. whippetwisdom says:

    I can hear and feel the rhythm of the music here Paul and I especially love
    ‘magik – pure and simple and Miles ahead of the game that only few choose to play and fewer still master’

  5. Charley says:

    There is just something in Davis’ mix that begs, coerces, and slaps the shit out of you until you write it! I know it. You know it. That was a wild ride notebook poem that deserved to be seen, read aloud, shouted from the balcony as the stereo blasted.

    Good one, Paul!

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