More Words by
In the Midtown bar, the blonde ignores surroundings, blithely chatting on a cellphone, like she’s home alone, or might as well be.
Unlike she, I’ve got no one to talk to. Sitting with the gloaming outside, loud annoying noise within. My head, the music bleeding, pounds right through me, thoughts (not there) receding…
Empty. I look up, and down. The room spins.
No one hears me fall.
I’d been confused about this “movement” for some time – The sometimes lazy, often fearful, hyper-emotional misfits demanding the coddling of their helicoptered childhoods to continue well past sell-by dates, into their collective twenties and thirties.
A weird skinny lumberjack beard or two later, these (wo)men-children have been, somewhat insultingly, labeled “Twee”…
disgusting filth animal
violates me … My space, my face
as he coughs
As I walk past, see
him suck his lungs in, throw his
head back, rancidly exhale …
Feel the sick and hear the
COVER. YOUR. MOUTH.
a public service announcement
by Jeff Glovsky
I walk with a bittersweet taste
down these streets, too aware
now I’ll never be home again
Can you hear me?
Furious ghost of my youth!
Angry spirit assails me,
screaming in torment!
Through agonizing streets,
down years, I’ve tasted love
and toppled fears, yet lost you
… things I held most dear
Oh, hear you!
Hear me screaming…
by Jeff Glovsky more Random Poetix
You can have tone and technique and a lot of other things but without originality, you ain’t really nowhere.
Ornette was “out”. He was different. He ‘couldn’t play’, yet “rewrote the language of jazz” (no small feat in a musical landscape of perpetual innovation (once), and the ethereal dissipation of improvised note bursts nightly, on a ‘moment’s notice’).
* * *
I myself am no musician. I don’t capably play any instruments … and I’m no authority. But I do know well and appreciate jazz: its humor, its sense of chaos, its combustible spontaneity … and above all, its take it or leave it, ‘is what it is’ ethos, too often exploited because, Hey! It’s Jazz!
Ornette Coleman 1930 - 2015