Keep It Real Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Abstract fields with the winds of Jazz
I have chosen the hybrid world
The marquee and the image
Reality is off limits
Thick strings
Piano and sax

Do you love the infinite chessboard?
Emotions are strange exotic brush strokes
Form is a broken moon
Language like a jungle of pleasure
Feathers and golden stars
Come lay on a bed of drums

We are all passing parrots
We are the slaves of freedom
Jazz is democracy
Her hair and perfume is objective
Defined museums of sexuality
The hi hat keeps me real