Anxious Rhythm

abstract gray

There’s an anxiousness, a mind-set of purpose mistakenly designed. A rampant metronome of heart-pace. Extreme sensory absorption. A calvary charge through exploded cannon-shot. Saber slashing, machete hacking- clearing ground for take-off. All fueled up and no place to go. Anxiousness turns into frustration.

The times they come past. Open and scattered, whole and broken. The jazz is inside the head, mind music, cosmic keys to open dimensional doors. Always reaching to catch the tempo, to run away, all frantic, all jump.

Man’s sound warps clouds, whirlpools weather and scalds his moods. Doors and round portals swing, open close, open close, the beat rocks dark matter into a madness.

Listen to it man, it’s jammin’, jivin’, loose and arrogant. Keep up, don’t drag, the music is all that’s left to echo through the illusion of time. There is no time, it’s all free-form, running for the chase, springing, leaping, a rocket shooting for the universe. Play, man Play. Blow daddy blow. Wail like groovin’ cat’s wail.

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2 thoughts on “Anxious Rhythm

  1. And who should know better? An exercise in free form writing that comes from initial thought then goes gradually deeper until the pen is writing by itself. Is that jazz? It is method that has no need for analysis; to paraphrase Louis, if you have to be taught it, you ain’t got it, and don’t get it.
    ………

    Had difficulty getting back to this page but should be O.k.

    1. Yep, playing jazz has influenced a lot in my life and now I can translate it into words and images and moments. Jazz seems to fit prose perfectly.

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