Song of Songs – extract 456 – work in progress

Every room, every gathering, every moment
Chemistry describes the unpredictable
Volatile, uncertain catalyzed reactions
Wailing the blues lays down the sadness
The hardness, unfairness laced in humor
The Welshman’s complaining game
Played out in three minor chords
And fingers extending along scales
To draw us deep down into the darkness
With half a bottle of hooch and
One third of a tightly rolled stick
Resined and heady, closing my eyes
The semi-acoustic electric strummed
Over a pair of silver humbuckers
Five finger, six ultrathin strings
To bend half the fret board width
The rent due, ain’t got a job
A devilish ex wife, a debt I can’t service
The law man is chasing me
Got a wife in Chino, one in Cherokee
Another man is where I draw the line
Picked up the extension, heard every word
Slow and self indulgent, whining
About being down since I could crawl
No so much poetry as punchlines
A lyrical sense that migrated to country
Leaving rock the angry defiance
And helpless depressions, drums
Easing the pain, propelling the fury

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in fiction, literature, novels, personal, poetry, writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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