A Monk’s Tale…
(For “Stank”)
The misunderstood banging
Of the ebony-ivory
Union
Reflects a oneness of time
And space unfathomed
By slaved ears seeking freedom
To know
The syncopation of mind,
Body and soul,
Reflecting hews of the sellers
And those sold.
Gyrating auction block crescendos
Spit crazy melodies
Shoveling shattered shackles
Sliding between
The mosaic beauty of whining keys.
Where this goes, slips sleekly by;
And the uninformed
Cannot comprehend the beat
Of thoughts meandering
The mind,
Leaving mental footprints
Tapping
Seasoned tympanums, vibrating blue notes
Between bebop bars
Of harmonious, inertia movements;
Challenging
The decrescendo
Ending
Of the blending mosaic mastery.
Must we play this again; or did we ride
The same Trane?