Paradiddle Poem Poem by ed purchla

Always hated the
Paradiddle. Band teacher
In high school did a
Poor job of hiding the fact
That he loved Jazz more than life.

Jazz, was the only
Place for rudiments, I felt,
Hell, I still feel. Flams,
Single, double, and three strokes,
Never did a thing for me.

I was one of those
Who played with their arms rather
Than traditional.
Never wanted marching band,
Strapped to a snare or bass drum.

It was the set I
Sought. Snare, a couple crashes,
A couple bongos,
A floor tom, ride, Hi-hat, and
An inverted China crash.

Emulating my
Favorite bands' beats, smashing
Away after school:
Practicing made me better
While it channeled my anger.

It's good to see kids
Today, bashing away on
YouTube, in the age
Of cyberphonia. They
Keep the organic torch lit.