Crown of Rhythm

Written by: Ruben O.

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                                        Old Beale Street Jazz boy 
                                        plays the guitar, sings the song
                                        Crops of cotton, seeds of soy
                                        a decoy to let them hear
                                        Plucking those strings of  joy
                                        waves of rage in these same tears
                                        Written with charcoal—unheard notes —
                                        He sings color free of fear
                                        A soul forgetting those wild oats.
                                        With his plectrum, a sharp whiplash,
                                        Flesh and sweat—the Deep South floats —
                                        time has come...has come in a flash
                                        Let his song sings through our throats
                                        Yet let the Jazz of hope splash.





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