Uncategorized / words


Jazz enters the room like a beautiful woman

with the soft staccato beat played against the cymbals. Her gait and the sway of her hips, knowing everyone is watching without giving the passers-by a glance. Jazz speaks to the soul playing a sad melody, strumming the strings of the heart as a tear slides down your cheek and you neglect to wipe it away, the notes leaving a trace to make a masquerade.Jazz mimics the angry street, Horns carrying out hairy conversations, while feet pound the pavement and sidewalks; a trumpeter flutters on the valves, knuckles protruding, cheeks bellowing, eyes closed, to stop and breathe in the sweet sweet sound echoing against the angry city’s madnessJazz is the strength of a man standing in the background with a bass in his hands, plucking out the steady rhythms, providing the relentless undertow as waves of jazz wash over you.


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