All That Jazz
It’s all about the b-b,
Some rhapsodic cacophony,
A vicious cabaret,
But that dude’s got some hold on me,
Like dirty nails in a steak,
Spouting some jazz ab-out –ab-dullah- ee-bra-him,
He be babbling, beret’d, practically ver-bose;
Dirty clothes, policy laundry-mat-black.
“This is Afri-ka” –he says.
The be-talls, the beat-alls –a constant see-saw,
Laugh and the world laughs at you,
Cry and be joined at the hip.
Yellow jocundity like jaundice,
It travels, all-infectious;
Jaunted, a quick sojourn,
J-j-j-j-gee-wizz, this is the Africa?
This is the night,
Or technically named –erectile dysfunction,
Synonyms for disharmony,
Nagasaki horror splice,
It provokes the desire but takes away the performance.
Carpe deee-end baby.
And all that jazz.