Notes with wings take flight like dust pushed by the breeze of a horn finding every corner where music brings to life snapping fingers heads bobbing eyes agreeing ears laughing as sounds fill your head like jam on toasted bread Where crumbs fall like notes with wings. … More NOTES WITH WINGS
…..and I say, that Lombard Street got the curves to knock the straight out of my shoes, echoing the hallway, sounding on walls cracked from fast songs and babies crying, in a city, under a heaven where angels have gone south, away from broken glass and whiskey breath made of sea foam and cold … More IT IS SO
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
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
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
Sandpaper songs chisel her image into rough edges. She is sharp to the fingers and smooth to the skin; dark pearls follow her steps.. She is an alligator wrapped in ribbons; gentle without meaning, harsh with intention. Her sound is muddy thick. Dust storms jump from the caves of … More IRREGULAR
The jazz sweeps the lonesome form me feeding my needs and filling my wants digging into deep and pulling up like an anchor rising from the a dark blue breaking the gold blue surface releasing my pain spinning it like a top faster into fast onto the floor past dancing feet … More BREAKING SOUND
Roger Singer 