Thursday, September 20

a tribute... to music.

the guitarist

I see the guy, walk into the cafe
Hazy-eyed, and a gaze of pride
A jacket of leather, the scent of smoke
And a jet black guitar, by his side...
A dark hat he wears, with a tint of grey
With a smile that belonged, and seemed to stay

He sits, keeps his better half on another chair
I see him smile, call the waiter and then look all around
Searching for others, like him who were
Simple, yet profound

He takes out a cigarette, and smoke soon follows
Smokey rings in the air, ripples gone hollow
He scratches his chin, where a soul-patch stays in place
He lets out a grin, and gives me that hazy-eyed gaze...

He throws away the bud, and then the smoke is gone
There is silence for a moment, and harmony is born
A plectrum is, what a plectrum does
And boy does it do it well
For notes embraced tone, and filled up the place
Like a forgotten viking spell

The people take notice, and their gaze followed
To this dark stranger, who tamed his melody
With a tint of invisible colour, and disguised sorrow
Ethereal it seemed, his harmony to me

The strums got faster, and rhythm walked along
Wheels of motion, moving together, forming the song
He wanted to scream, but he couldn't I knew
So he let his guitar, do the talking through
And emotions leapt out, from the musician within
I saw tritones, embrace metal strings...

The melody claimed its share
And applause soon followed
And soon he was done, he got up to leave
And as he passed the window pane, I saw his face
And surprisingly he looked
A lot like me...
the headbanger

The Metal beckons
The metal screams...
It is time...

The Men
Have awoken
The Mosh
Has awoken

The headbanger
A loyal follower of the metal
Of the Distortion
Of Guitar riffs and Double bass
Insane solos kept in place
Some drink
Some smoke
He dissolves into the music...

Of Symphonic melody
Of Harmonic Sound
Of Heavy Metal Tone
Rocking the ground

I am one.
I'm proud to be
Its just music
Used to set you free
So embrace the Metal
Dissolve inhibition
Erase doubt
Set yourself free...

Rock on.
jazz heals

Six strings
And a saxophone
Plus a, big bad synth
That holds its own
Four strings, you call it the bass
Brought down to nail that tone
Chip in, some drums n sticks
And I say I'm comin home!!

That's jazz for ya
No questions asked
Musical Art
12-tone scales on brass
Then there's Modal jazz
It abandoned chords
A Different Art
Of Musical Force

Ah the glory
That Jazz can bring
Of souls and spirits
That learnt to sing
I salute these people
They showed me life
They showed me meaning
I passed by...

Of bent and blue
And melody too
The rhythm and bass
Reside in you
Of rhymes and tales
And words of the soul
This is Jazz...
Get out,
Or lose control.

Free yourself.
It will take care of the rest
Jazz is not a genre
It is a definition
It is not music.
It is the language of the soul.
It has no words.
Because the soul does not speak.
It only sings.
Free yourself.
And see the light,
That jazz can bring...

Jazz heals.
the bass

I am consumed.
By the funk.
By the bass.
By the slap.
And the Pop.

I am consumed,
By the groove.

It is addictive.
And I'm addicted.
An addict,
If you may.

For you see...
The bass is not,
A mere instrument of choice,
Or preference....
It is part of the soul...
The Inner Soul.
The Holy Spirit.
The prayer.
And the blessing.
It embraces those in it's path.
It absorbs their essence.
Shine in the light...
For you may never shine again.

It is immortal.
Embrace it,
For it shall embrace you.
Shine in its light.
In its blessing.
Revel in its shine.
In its shadow.
Become one,
With the bass.
And watch.
Watch everything...
Into Holy, Seraphic, Nothingness.