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	I RATHER DRINK MUDDY WATER THAN LET MY BABY GO Loving The Blues Of Soul The artist has designated this song as non-chartable.		Blues

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Jacqueline Favorites Billy Holiday, Bessie Smith, Lenis Guess, B.B King, many celebrities of blues, Jacqueline states I lived around the components of blues, simplified through the history of my family genes, I take on a new preservation of modern blues and jazz, with a touch of honey that sticks to my ribs, the legends that lives through me, The symposium preceded a performance of blues related to the compositions of her poetry, the pain of pleasure one might say sadistic in the format of relevance, the association of pain and pleasure, Lady Blues Jackie have been performing since the age of 19 relating to the stories of her family tree, I think she is genuinely please to release the sounds that are instill through birth, Jacqueline speaks of her auntie Louise Corley, she perform in the clubs of Harlem, which she has now passed on, she speaks of the time when she watched her auntie perform for her family, hoping that one day she could do the same, her father a southern a lover of music as well as her mother, it runs through the genes, as well as her sister, but the voices of originality presents the blues as she was back in the 1940s as well as her poetic compositions, the rebirth of Harriet Tubman as wells Langston Hughes,
When I think about the blues the ninety century, often think about the struggle of black power, and the banners upon there arms, and the corners of seventh avenue, and the juke joints and t he night in Harlem, and the blues serenest, but yet I think about the blow your horn, and the dizzy Gillespie who played

the southern songs. A symposium on poetry, and jazz that featured the greasy hair, the pen stripe suits, and lady sings the blues, down on seventh avenue the performance cried, bring back black pride, I often reflect on the times, big domino who played the key board, and the sweat of his brow, sing black boy, as your key board flow, Sarah von steps out into the crowed, I knew she was genuinely please, strutting her style, all those ladies in their conform style, never missed the flower in her hair, As the lady song the blues although her awkward walk and stilted gestures reflected the physical pain she was trying so hard to hide, She was a lady in deed, crying the pain, from her heart, oh in this misery of preformatted pain, and the tears that cried, as the joy she spread, perforated suicide as she cried for help, under the code of black jazz, hiding the pain. I also remember, bitter sweet, a symposium of black jazz, featured in the cry, my man he doesnt love me treats me oh so mean.

The nature of jazz, with its Anesthesia of musical and literary innovations, "" is an arbitrary term at best and that allusions to jazz/blues. The day that lady died, t he ultimate confusion of pain, the soul cannot stay within the body, if it is subsided with overwhelming pain. In this mist of blues, the conception of history, that contemns the summary of slow death, but the spirit of its cause continue to live, for the voices from the grave, continue to sing, the songs of Billy Holliday, the mist of the blues. the seemingly immortal Lady Day, is gone

Through out this symmetry of blues, the soul creates emotions, of the struggles, just to stay alive, the pain and the suggestions of survival in the 19th century, to perform under all cause, it has be the struggles of those who un fold a ladder that we shall climb, never forgetting the shoulders that stood, for those to climb, the mastery of greatness.

3/25/2014 7:09:34 PM
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