The future has no formula baby

The future has no formula baby…
It’s all Jazz.
It’s the ultimate

improvisation.
No script,
No plot
Except the one that the Big Man got.
It’s not

in your 401k

or retirement plot

and it’s most assuredly not

in the hole that your

head is buried in.
You thought you

thought it
Through
Quite thoroughly but in real time it’s just a

giant knot that they got you tangled up in,
They star spangled you up again
(Singing D’Angelo style)

“And they laughin in yo face once again, got yo mouth up on they hook…one mo gin’”

It’s just the same old lies

strewn from the snake’s green eyes
In the Garden of Eden with

Eve and them
And after all that, the wars and the bullshit

reasons for war, after all the millions and

millions

of innocent simple folks Uncle Sam

murdered by the bushel…

the smoke cleared and we all got in gear behind

television fear,
We forgot about the lies and believed again.

Amnesia is the state that we ALL are licensed and insured in.
The Rat race

marathon where

Nobody keeps winning

it’s
the Worldwide Web

that we are all happy to be stuck in.
The reason we all keep

running in circles trying to

eat,

drink

sleep and watch the watch-box.

It’s all Jazz baby,
It’s the worst notes sung and hung on the wall with the Karaoke speakers
And the speakers aren’t speaking anymore they are screaming

“Die you fucking shaved monkeys!”

“But die slow so we can get our flow…”

Drink your miller’s light

wear your team’s colors.
Swallow

the pills

they give you

and wash it down

with holy water

and try to find the time.

Have you ever seen Miles Davis

tap his feet to find the beat?

Never my man,

He was the master of improvisation

he rode that wind without a scowl or grin,

He is one of the main reasons they stopped calling us boys and the reason we call each other men.

You all cannot bob your head to anything but a four-four,
What will you do with a 6/8 or a 12/8?
Five time?

What if it swings from Staccato’s branches?
Or hangs from Legato’s leggings?

It’s the new bowl of gumbo;

sling shot around the corner on the first day that your pension plan kicks in odd meter

(Somebody spent it)

The future is improvisation my sissy boy nation!
Jazz is improvisation
And it’s the truth.
The truth never sounds the same any more

The Truth wears no make up and has Its own schedule and agenda.

It’s everything that you think will last,

everything you thought would last.

You sweat up your shoes

and pulled out your hair for the future!
You planned without the plans my man!

Does the architect build his dream house with dreams that he drummed up while

dreaming?
I don’t know about you …

but me?

I’m always scheming…
hoping and

believing,
And just banging on my drums

to whatever beat

choose      

  in 

                             the 

                                 late

              watered

          down 

evening.

D. MEDINA 14’

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