Griot Ad #1

designed by Larry Knight

Gods and Legends (Part 1)

photo by Francis Wolff (courtesy of Blue Note Records)

God's Acknowledgement
by Larry Knight

What was it like to listen to Trane?
The Village Vanguard, New York, 1965;
it was a rainy night,
the smoke trails from burning cigarettes
formed grey spiral columns in the air,
the delicate flicker of votive candles
created shadows on eager faces,
and the quiet chatter of voices
mixed with the sound of ice cubes
striking the insides of drinking glasses in the semi-darkness,
when suddenly
and without preface
Jimmy began to play
this sonic boom in four chord progression:
boom boom boom boom,
boom boom boom boom,
boom boom boom boom,
then Elvin added percussive soul,
and McCoy added gentle serenity,
and then the sound of God's acknowledgement
slowly drifted in,
melodious chords of poly-rhythmic intensity,
the sheer absolutism of love-
it was glorious, pure, and perfect in its own simplicity
because it was all emanating from the inner depths of one man,
a saint, master of spirituality,
architect of the hierarchy of jazz,
also known as ‘the new thing’,
the messenger of universality,
the philosopher of impressionism-
he was the emperor of the blue note-
a saxophone deity pulling atoms from the farthest corners of the galaxy
to form a raging comet of intense freedom
streaking through the cosmos
crossing the ocean of our dreams
to arrive on the soft shores of our most tender moments-
he was a super colossus standing among the planets
reaching far into interstellar space
to capture the sound of God in each note
formed by breath pushed from lungs,
pushed through teeth,
pushed into the consciousness of humanity-
moving in sentimental moods
guiding us on wild exploits through love movements
while chanting softly in four syllables,
'a love supreme,
a love supreme,
a love supreme'
finally delivering us
like cradled children in infancy
into a rebirth-
and then, like a deafening explosion,
the piercing shriek of a howling whirlwind
plays soundtrack to the dissolving sun
melting into the earth
casting an effusion of brilliant shades of purple
on a canvas only he and God can see
while three apostles,
with drums, with bass, with piano,
all explode in unison as he, Coltrane, stands center stage
reaches out, seizes us,
and pulls us into his soul,
as he nurtures us
as he carries us on his seraphic wings
as he guides us towards heaven
to kneel in reverence
to the universe
to the sky
to the oceans
to the four winds of the earth
to the rock and the tree
to Buddha
to Allah
and to God...
...and the Vanguard became our heaven,
our sanctuary for resolutions-
he was the messenger,
and to listen to him
to explore with him,
to venture to the beyond with him
simply meant
that you had to be willing to die with him.

Copyright 2005 Larry J. Knight, Jr.

Desolation

photo by Larry Knight

Deities and Demons

When The Revolution Stopped On The Dime
by Larry Knight

Lost in the madness of our society
are the children of our time,
withering away, becoming cultural zombies
while their consciousness is dying
amongst 21st century egotism
that places value on material things
that tarnish as time moves on;

And as life continues its circuits of evolution,
they seem to grow more disaffected by the limitations
that they impose upon themselves,
and struggle to make sense of the senselessness
that exists within a world
that they claim to be apart of,
but in truth, are nowhere near.

Worshipping the idols created by media deities
who issue proclamations of 'in' and 'out',
they flock in hordes to marketplace sanctuaries
that provide them with their only source of spiritual sustenance-
a commercially pre-packaged lifestyle
that costs more than their souls are willing to pay.

And while the vicious campaigns are aimed
at the pockets of urban dwellers,
they are continuously branded by irons
that serve to enlist their service
in a global conspiracy to create mindless auction block creatures,
vessels of enslavement,
enslaved by the very thing that they sacrifice their lives for.

When did self-indulgence
mysteriously mask itself as individuality,
when did being cool
suddenly mean missing the message,
and when did the voices
of past leaders of the movement
suddenly become silent screams
of convoluted nightmares
that exist as testaments to the end of the struggle for change,
and the birth of the era of complacency?

And now they crawl upon the backs of the revolutionaries,
dig their nails into the flesh of those dedicated to change,
ask for the system's recognition,
but accept its reluctance;
our children are being seized by time
and its minion, apathy,
as they both drag them from their youth,
gnaw at the fibers of their being,
and transform them into ghosts
kissed by the curse of forever.

Copyright 2005 Larry J. Knight, Jr.

Nature Divine

photo by Larry Knight