Free jazz:
notes cascading
from horns,
cords striding
across eighty-eight keys,
while rhythms
on drum kits beat.
To the unaccustomed
ear an explosion
of unrelated
sounds, each
instrument
contesting
for center stage.
But, are these
musicians
more than
a congregation
assembled
on a common space?
Watch the eyes,
concentrating
inwardly as
fingers jump
on keys, valves,
and strings.
Watch the lips,
call out charts
now strain
with key changes,
then smile
as recognition
attains harmony.
Society is not
about confirmity
nor control,
but about
reciprocation,
as we take
a solo,
then turn the stage
over to follow
the flow as the tune
evolves.
Freedom is not
about only doing
my will,
disregarding yours,
but about watching,
listening,
and changing keys.
hermitsdoor 
Very nice!
A beautiful poem, Oscar. I enjoyed this very much.
Thanks. We enjoyed the jazz festival and have good memories (and CD’s… and musicians signatures…. can’t put those on a download… I’m sounding old.)