Wicked! Miles Davis

One Mr Sebastian Kruger's rendition of Miles Davis at work...

Jazz

Jazz - Anticipation,

The wise double bass - elderly yet playful
knowing
he knew you would be there that night...
like the father of a grown man
you're still his child, you know.

The cymbals and the brush..
they're not your game
making love - still flirting with your wine glass.
They conspire.

The piano - an out of place ballet dancer..
speaks some other language..
she doesnt know their dialect..
but she was always a star
she's here to perform.. she has another show elsewhere..right after this

The sax..
The norweighan scream of silence..
the scream of the butterfly?
or a thick glob of violet, pouring out into your glass
is that what you drink?

why do you come to meet these well known strangers.. why do you want to know how they know you?

does it matter?
she's sitting right before you...
is that why they had come too?

I was hoping...?let it be ?
does it seem like i'm looking for an answer to a question i cant ask?

SK

July

A cup of coffee; drops of monsoon rain
Come crashing down heavily on the window panes.
Strange emotions follow that we cannot explain;
'Tis just another day in July.

The horizon sports all shades of grey,
And though there's sunshine somewhere along the way,
The brightness - will it be here to stay?
Meanwhile - we are as melancholy as the sky.

Thanks to the rain, 'tis muffled, unclear
But still suddenly the radio catches your ear
-A nostalgic melody that you overhear;
There's a giddy feeling inside you can't deny.

Thoughts of different genres stringed together
With imaginary threads that withstand the weather,
All unique yet similar, like birds of a feather,
Come into view; you breathe a heavy sigh...

An awkwardness follows, which you tacitly condone;
You are neither joyous, nor sad - in a twilight zone.
Are you searching for someone or would you rather be alone?
Mysterious contradictions - you are left wondering why...

And yet, relentless, defiant - the rain will march on!
Perhaps till the scorching summer memories are gone.
But will our vibrant Sun resurface at dawn?
'Tis just another day in July.

SR