Strings Snap

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Palms astride reality
articulate and come together
to cup a sad butterfly,
my lifeless heart.

Sad veins and tired, raw blades
frantically percussion; with a quick riff
of brushing cymbals,
blood pumps stronger,

sharp wings strike the air,
shattering its magical glass
in the struggle to be free.
Palms astride reality

with lazy elbows bent,
plucks at strings, unplugged,
while stomaching tingling
insects that crawl

to his insipid tune –
all the while, the wild
butterfly is reborn.
Metamorphosis is paramount,

escape is key
to sanity and freedom –
all happening in his sweaty hands
as he scurries back…

either side or reality.

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Let’s Amplifiy the Truth

electric guitar

For those delicate petals,
fake dew is instrumental
when forged consciousness
dripping as tongue
numbing, dumbed down thought
slides easily off the precipice
as words from a vacuous mouth
and into
our bleeding ears.
I want to scream
like it’s written here,
words carved in ice,
’til made-to-melt
tears form ravines on
mezzanine floors –
to make the rafters
swing and hit those bass strings
finely tuned with lofty notes
that only birds can pluck
between electric volts
those shocks that send shivers
and feathers
soaring through the air;
when politicians sing
like cuckoos – let’s
plug in our guitars and play.