The future has no formula baby…
It’s all Jazz.
It’s the ultimate improvisation.
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
Quite thoroughly but in
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
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
The Worldwide Web
That we are all happy to be stuck in.
The reason we all keep
trying to eat, drink,
sleep and watch the watch-box.
It’s all Jazz baby,
It’s the worst note
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
sips from your diamond-laden cups
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 the reason
they stopped calling us boys
And 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?
What if it swings from Staccato’s branches?
Or hangs from Legato’s leggings?
It’s the new bowl of gumbo;
slung 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
And it never sounds the same anymore
the Truth wears no make up and has no agenda.
It’s everything that you think will last,
everything you thought would last.
You sweat up your shoes
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? But I’m always scheming…
Never hoping or believing
I’m just banging
on my drums to whatever
Beat I choose in the