This is one of those poems I wrote down because I had a crazy idea. In this case I was at a party and I saw a piano in the corner. This party gave me such an emotional response I ended up writing what was essentially a portfolio about it. This is probably the one of the best and least offensive to people that I can post. The piano was completely neglected and used mostly as a table, and I wondered what the piano would have to say in this situation, where it's main function is obscured by alcohol and a DJ.
Percussion but no melody
So loud you can’t hear each other talk
Nothing but the pulse, a sign of life without substance.
I long for the silence
So we can sing to each other,
But that will not be tonight.
When you come home you won’t sing in tune,
And if you try to
Nor will I.
People lean on me,
Mistaking me for their friends,
Leaving me with their drinks.
I regret that I can’t keep them safe,
But they won’t let me sing,
Although they try themselves.
I count myself lucky that they are drowned out
Things are black and white to me;
I long for sophistication,
Quiet drinks, pressed suits and cigars
Not the scent of singe straightened hair
Skinny jeans and slogans on shirts
Jager-bombs are no substitute for a glass of whiskey
These are strange times
No comments:
Post a Comment