A Shaded Symphony
Mvt. 1 The Bullet that Counts
conception, deception, no sense of direction,
escaping from danger, a lack of protection,
to living a struggle, a struggle to live,
affectionate discipline not easy to give
or forgive to get presents, and futures, and pasts,
light neglect shadows in cold places cast
upon sidewalks and school buses, students and sticks
and stones, like words, bones broken with bricks
healed in casts with a forecast of pain
causing tears cast away with a large chance of rain,
to drain away, gain a day, render insane
to crave and to craze, to be lost in a daze,
to days of disappointments, let-downs and dismays
no white-out, to write out the rights and the wrongs
rightly left off the line to wrung out
not hung out, not hung out, but sung
in harmony, dissonance, part ‘a me wishin’ it’s
not the whole song, but only a verse,
to repeat the chorus would make things worse.
to wander, wonder, to ponder, to plunder,
to be or not to be, shoot forth thunder,
to lightening the load and clearing the road
of a childhood with speed-bumps and potholes
and miles of construction and detours and
dead-ends, till crash, must be towed.
impounded, grounded, locked alone in a room
broken door that was pounded,
the sound that they found it,
the secret to keeping creation confounded.
the silence of broken pencils and strings,
writers pinned down like butterflies wings,
no more dreams run on paper of fairy tale things,
such as pirates and dragons and werewolves and kings,
to lions and tigers and barely a memory of stories of old,
the tales of adventure no longer are told,
and a sense of excitement is sold by the ounce,
a tame-seeming lion is likely to pounce,
for the bottle always breaks on the second bounce,
and the bullet that hits you’s bullet that counts.
Mvt. 2 A Weed for the Wind
now time close the eyes and imagine a place
where rhyme blows the skies like a match in the face
and melts away memories and every trace
of a life they once knew, that now must be chased
away in a haste, don't remember the taste
of the younger years laced with a hint of regret
and a dash of forget, years of tears and frustration,
a life drenched with sweat.
still much too young to understand,
receive only lashing and reprimand
in the form of a shout and the back of a hand,
senseless castigation, too much to stand.
lash back not with violence, but with clever words hit,
an example of brevity shown solely by wit.
never content with the now and the here,
look forward a minute, a week, month, or year,
as the seconds tick by, consumed with the fear,
of moving too quickly as life disappears,
cause we're dying for future to be present fast,
yet dying as present too soon becomes past,
in search of a way to make each moment last,
and all one can do is just wish in the end,
but a dandelion's only a weed for the wind.
Mvt. 3 A Moth to the Flame
mind racing, panicked pacing
anxiety like rabid animals chasing
in hot pursuit, a weapon to shoot
in the midst of a crowd
defacing the innocent lovers embracing
erasing the hatred
retracing the steps that were aimlessly taken,
the universe shaken,
the shot heard round words,
pollution awaken a new revolution
of making amends, repenting of sins,
a desperate attempt to make enemies friends,
but none of it matters, the prior the latter,
under the roof there arose such a clatter
of lies and deceit, helpless cries and defeat,
entire generations battered and beat.
minorities terrified, heresy, genocide,
simple solution, society "civilized,"
when civil eyes, though open wide, leave civil blood unseen,
to fend for a friend, amend the end, to justify the means.
scream crescendo, innuendo, shatter silence, break a window,
take a deep breath, can't defeat death, just give in, diminuendo.
to offer affection in vain just to earn
the pain of a lacking of love in return.
to yearning for one absolutional turn
adjourning the trial, convicting dissenter,
to close for the winter, extracting a splinter,
in case of emergency exit or enter
into sanctuary, mission center
hate the sin, negate the sinner.
show and tell, you’ll go to hell,
you know damn well how adam fell,
the tree of life, persuasive wife,
the birth of death, of barful strife.
the spoiled youth of high-class loaded
full of leisure, candy coated,
spoon-fed rotten, rosy glasses, candy cotton, season passes,
who forgot to feed the masses?
college classes, education, laziness, procrastination,
aimlessness, no dedication, find a way to save the nation,
intoxication, devastation, fornication, procreation,
masochistic mutilation, a melancholy massacre,
to alcohol, a glass of hurt,
regretted action, just a fraction, lack of traction, slow reaction.
must be taken? you’re mistaken,
but had to crash to be awakened,
cause it’s too late to break away and leave the bay,
to seize the day, let come what may,
for what may came, a morbid shame,
ourselves to blame, existence claim,
for tragedy, comedy, all the same,
in the end we all die like a moth to the flame.
Created: Jan 26, 2010Document Media