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.

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Turntable

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Petals strewn on black vinyl
spin bleeding heartache’s
colourful elides –
scat overtures;
nonsense syllables on jazz’s hard edged
merry go round
mimic life’s insanity, it is scraped away
under fine needle pinpricked grooves,
screaming songs
of generations.

Say You

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‘Sing to me,’ said the melody,
‘Cry to me on my lips.
Tell me the tune on a rainy afternoon
Play it for me as I sit.’

Swaying in time with mortality
we’re singing in case we might scream,
our lullaby turned to gut wrenching yearns
when the harmony wavered and slipped.

‘Play me your song, make a symphony,
hum from your quivering lips.
Cling to the base as I wonder the pace
Tell it to me as I sit.’

Our hearts beat in time, but mechanically,
and strays from the voice that it hears.
A love song is born but the time is to mourn,
sorrow’s words are the tempo’s eclipse.

‘So cry then’ said the melody,
‘cry until it makes sense.
Use me to grieve, wear your heart on your sleeve,
maybe soon life can commence.’

River Song ~ Quadrille

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Wistful waters croon
their tranquil notes,
stirring streams
to run the course
of our age’s peaks and troughs –
ululating reservoirs pool
naturally when catastrophes
become walled dams;
unabated, the simple reed’s voice
needs no coax from restless winds
to play us healing songs.