Charlie Parker

Jack Kerouac

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    Charlie Parker looked like Buddha
    Charlie Parker who recently died laughing at a juggler on TV
    After weeks of strain and sickness
    Was called the perfect musician
    And his expression on his face
    Was as calm, beautiful and profound
    As the image of the Buddha
    Represented in the East — the lidded eyes
    The expression that says: All is well

    This was what Charlie Parker said when he played: All is well
    You had the feeling of early-in-the-morning
    Like a hemit's joy
    Or like the perfect cry of some wild gang at a jam session
    Wail! Whap!
    Charlie burst his lungs to reach
    The speed of what the speedsters wanted
    And what they wanted was his eternal slowdown
    A great musician
    And a great creator of forms
    That ultimately find expression
    In mores and what-have-you

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    Musically as important as Beethoven
    Yet not regarded as such at all
    A genteel conductor of string orchestras
    In front of wich he stood proud and calm
    Like a leader of music in the great historie Worldnight
    And wailed his little saxophone
    The alto
    With piercing, clear lament
    In perfect tune and shining harmony
    Toot!
    As listeners reacted
    Without showing it
    And began talking
    And soon the whole joint is docking and talking
    And everybody talking —
    And Charlie Parker
    Whistling them on to the brink of eternity
    With his Irish St. Patrick Patootlestick
    And like the holy mists
    We blop and we plop
    In the waters of slaughter and white meat —
    And die
    One after one
    In Time
    And how sweet a story it is

    When you hear Charlie Parker tell it
    Either on records or at sessions
    Or at official bits in clubs
    (Shots in the arm for the wallet)
    Gleefully he whistled the perfect horn
    Anyhow made no difference
    Charlie Parker forgive me
    Forgive me for not answering your eyes
    For not having made an indication
    Of that which you can devise
    Charlie Parker pray for me
    Pray for me and everybody

    In the Nirvanas of your brain
    Where you hide —
    Indulgent and huge —
    No longer Charlie Parker
    But the secret unsayable Name
    That carries with it
    Merit not-to-be-measured
    From here to up down east or west
    Charlie Parker
    Lay the bane off me
    And everybody

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    Composición: Jack Kerouac

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