Jazz Is


Jazz has a voice,

It speaks to me.

As I sleep deep,

Or as my feet take turns hitting the concrete street.

In the Chi-town heat, when you’ve met all the folks you could meet;

Jazz is the speaker.


Jazz has a soul,

Has a story to tell.

Been to hell and back

But laying low in the lack.

Race tracks in the mind,

Racking the race up in time

To get to where you’re at.

Took a while, but,

I’m glad you made the cut;

Took your mind out the gutter and gave your heart to another.

Jazz is the soul.


Jazz is honest.

From the broke jokes, swiping tokes,

To million dollar jokes still blowing money on smokes.

Living life at Bird Land as the ivories get stroked.

Then he chokes on the dope;

He’s transformed into smoke.

Was only at the beginning of his too-short rope.

Jazz is the truth.


Jazz expresses love.

The words roll of the tongue,

The hand comes out the glove.

Fingers shoved to the keys on the sax,

As you play at the club,

To people eating up clubs.

The jazz soothes the mug,

‘Til all you hear are valentine notes born above…

‘Cause Jazz is the love.


Jazz is… what?

What do you see,

In the do-re-mi,

And the swagger in Gillespie’s lead?

Take heed to the seed of the greed and the creed,

But with a dash of passion and perfection between.

Don’t imprison the mind;

Try to capture the dream.

Jazz is the Speaker,

It’s the Soul, the Truth.

Jazz is the Love;

Jazz is me, and jazz is you.


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