An old man’s tale
Who is it there?
Strumming so
music breathes
a life of its own
Picture a mother dumping her newborn in a dumpster at night
Then picture the plight that comes with being poor in fright
I live every day, flute in my hand searching through an alleyway
To find the octaves amiss from my bliss I miss that Jazz & Ray
The musical hemisphere is on the other side of the orbit see
Today I’m blind to the sheets and the notes are mocking me
KRS one preaching about the real Roxanne I block my ears
I open them to listen to the fear of Justin & his Darkness peers
Fall forward stumbling blind to this world I fall on an incipient tile
No that’s granite or is it bitumen I see a black velvet style
Staggering along drunk with melodies the cars hoot an orchestra…
Casting a spark
making it whole
then why let it
fade all alone?
Filigreed rain-drops on top of the pavement with its weeded crops
Cackle with joy as the manacled dog tackled shackled crooks & cops
Not for their pain, but for ambiguity dramatized in their falling props
Ragdolls, dancing to tunes of societal tops, planning tactical drops
Then the rain stops, snaking my way like a lab rat I slither along
the long street congested with traffic, I try to fit in the throng
No such luck, I trip over rustling cans, discarded, used orphans
Standing singing out their soul their goal to fill their stomachs whole
Their voice quivers in the cold, unimpressive to audiophiles around
stuttering in dismay, yet not donating charity their way, the ground
covered in faulty gems & I’m the odd man searching what they found
So it did fade
away & stole
imagination
has it a role?
I smile an embryonic smile then understand I’m not really guile
Sophisticated technologies can’t help, doctors lost hope after a while
Though the resonance of the pebbles clicking my heels is so great
it’s timbre shakes my sole was that Beethoven, or a foot’s mistake
I walk along oblivious to the emerging car will its wave’s crash me
Or will I float on cloud 7 spying music, harmonious paparazzi
Mistake me not-I’m not blind or strained by any physical ties
It’s a blind man’s bluff, the cloth around my eyes is where it lies
The secrets to my melodies and the composition of clashing strings
Violins constructed from rubber bands, vision my darkness
……………………………and in the darkness is where the music begins