Riff Poem by gordon nosworthy


tomato soup tomato soup tomato
i have no message i have no tomato soup music
i have music more to the point music has me
i enjoy jazz i don't understand jazz
my life is jazz sad jazz loud jazz private jazz
some people want to be seen
some people want to hide
some people don't know what they want
i like jazz i want to riff flow and riff breathe free

it was never meant to be was it?
we are human there is no freedom
we will always be human
there is no meta riff in us
there are make believe riffs
there are black holes we approach as riffs
enter as if they were riffs but they are holes
not riffs they are dark
sporadically lit with chilling flashes of light

a riff breathes pivots around a life of its own
it looks like blues or watermelons
it looks like tomato soup it reminds you that your life
teeters on the line each moment each note
each sound each sight each taste
each moment the heart lifts from its chest
exists apart from all the rules

except that is illusion isn't it?
we no more exist beyond illusion
than we can exist beyond being human
stop being human and we begin being dead
i love jazz i love tomato soup
i love the music of jessie ware bob marley grateful dead
john Coltrane billy holiday sia alabama shakes radiohead
jazz is anything with a riff
everything comes with a riff on a riff is a riff
we just have to learn to listen we just have to learn
i love jazz i love charlene
that's a riff it doesn't lack logic just clarity

riffs have a logic of their own
riffs have legs riffs laugh at us behind our backs
i spotted a dog leak against a tree message sent
message received would the dog drown
in a swimming pool of tomato soup
would it confuse breathing with eating
and swallowing that was a jazz thought
tomato soup with or without the ‘e'

Tuesday, December 5, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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