The brass of her voice struggled smooth, like feet running underwater. The climbing of her song planted her on high ground, where angels protected her in clouds. Her message is full of her; arms of the past, faces fading, she turns to shadows for comfort. Rich velvet agonies slide … More IN THE CLOUDS
Jazz rained down in rivers catching out strong soul and soft hands rising to the call of music prayers among blind angels who fail on color and possess great mercy scattering dark thoughts, lost eyes , and roads leading from home and shoes speaking miles and dirty hands breathing out the land with labor work … More AMEN
Jazz holds me captive when her voice spills from strong sculptured depths… flowing over the crowd with warm summer downpours of sounds soaking their souls richly… Fulfilling wishful dreams of lonely men who count themselves lucky to gaze at her… Eyes the shade of Egyptian blue oceans where … More WEAK SPIRITS
Spilling from an open window like morning tides creeping wet and slow into tidal basins, a horn from the second floor washes to the alley below between red chipped brick walls. Shadows form the coolness of notes, like stars falling under a black heaven pushing the beat of jazz as a man pulls the sound … More THE ALLEY BELOW
I feel a breeze of notes tap my rhythmic fingers driving my feet to walk a dance. Leaves twist when sounds reach into boughs of green where jazz passes by. My head rocks in gentle rolls like piano keys full of cool beats and brushing winds. My heels slide the … More LIVING IN MY HEAD
Hearts find strength where music lives and breaths birthing thoughts like babies crying loud in any language no matter if with ten toes or twelve with brown hair or blond curls crying is crying like music that calls us to the band playing the jazz we need to hear night or … More THAT CRYING KID
AT NIGHT Shadows intent on magic sway on plaster walls as dancing gray images surrender to kingdoms of jazz. Horns with finger tapping and pushing tempt valves to sing on streets of gold where Gabriel’s heart frowns jealous, of the cool hots below. The jazz continues with a rush … More AT NIGHT
He’s a cat with fight, a tin pan scratcher, a voice clawing to the top of his jazz. He was talked out. His fingers coaxed the horn onto alive where it throbbed like a wound or a hand shaking for whiskey. Water fires of applause waved up. Sweaty … More SLEEPY ALLEYS
JAZZY EYES Smoke gets chased by running air pulsing like storms from horns end. Fast fingers hungrily push willing tabs finding sound with depth just fine. Blue shades cover cool jazzy eyes thinking full with thoughts driven hard.
Her eyes speak of remember……….fallen rose pedals tumble hard to the floor like kisses and promises. A night song waits within her…she colors lips that once pouted for flowers and diamonds. She wearily walks on…………pushing her feet into the spirit of her youth. The words transform her into beauty………seizing the air and eyes listening to … More ONTO THE STAGE
Roger Singer 