Birdman

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Angeline
Angeline
86 Followers

Mr Jay McShann hired Charlie Parker,
Bird, that soul-swinging jazz Icarus
whose sun rise left him in the gutter.

Call it a grand city palace,
home of some minor royal patron,
but in a wider sense still a gutter

if you can't be called Mister
or pee in a men's room in your own town.
Maybe you fly with needles,
eyes rolling mad, your ax blown
in frenzied staccato fantasies
or dripped moan-smooth in ballads.

It's all blues. You get blown
every which way, but some people
just don't seem to comprehend
that even this desecration
is spirit, produces infinite beauty.

Mr McShann said
you see the blues is not about feelin bad:
it's a way to get feelin good,
and Papa Jo said
Jazz is our religion,

which makes Bird a martyr.
Sacred, sacred.

Angeline
Angeline
86 Followers
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  • COMMENTS
10 Comments
tazz317tazz317over 11 years ago
NOTHING IS EVER SACRED

when the outlook is scared and scarred, TK U MLJ LV NV

LeBrozLeBrozabout 17 years ago
~~

This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 34,500 poems.

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duddle146duddle146about 17 years ago
Rare Bird.

Ah...Charlie 'yardbird' Parker ~ now there was a bird that could really swing.

LeBrozLeBrozover 17 years ago
~~

Here's a piece

With the sound of jazz

In tribute;

How can you not like it?

flyguy69flyguy69over 19 years ago
Such a beautiful melody

This poem is yardbird sweet, Angeline!

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