TO ALFRED...

Alfred

By Obsidian c. 2010

...and so i cried at

Alfred Washington's grave

there i heard piano keys

tickle ivories old jazz-time strokes

and Art Tatum was the most

Bible-thumping Alfred Washington

a cornucopia of useless historical biblical knowledge

and canonical tones

i was just a black boy

trapped in ghetto's plight broken

windows tring to escape his fate

black & white ivory keys

promised to set me free

from the chains of a forbidden

South Bronx rite

Alfred Washington was

Be-Bop's epitome of epic scale

chords and arpeggios

diatonic triads

"E G B D F

Every Good Boy Does Fine

G B D F E

F A C E

& A C E G"

Running my bony fingers up

and down the scales

became the new religion of

salvation to me

flat scales

sharps

and inversions

saved a nappy headed Negro

boy from gansta's delight

and dark foreboding jail cell's

cold steel blight

i quit my piano lessons

at 14 wanted to box and

play basketball

Sugar Ray Leonard

and Magic Johnson dreams

escape my father's screams

but i still hear Alfred Washington

tickling the ivories in between

finally i come to the

grave sight of a jazz musician

rhapsody's peaceful sleep

and bent my tired poet's

knees not to pray...

but to weep