Silver – stanza 18.2

From what I have gathered, he was always Black Marx
Carefully selected vessels interviewed, auditioned
Chosen for their look, style and potential contribution
To the Black Marx sound, evolving through lyres
Horns, guitars, violins, harpsichords, drum, voice
Into and through the full collection of orchestral
Symphonic, folk, jazz, blues, rock and disco
Leaving no moment of musical development
Unexplored, utilized, developed in variations
But Black Marx, in this modern communicative
Word has chosen to hide himself deep down
In the underground, restricting access to a few
Elect disciples, lest his musical performance
Intensity rocket him to messiah-hood
For no one in our society lives more revered
Than the performer, as idiotic as it seems
So even finding Black Marx, to speak to him
To watch him perform, requires digging into
The culture of the musicians who surround him
But this obstacle didn’t bother Malinov
Razor knew exactly when and where
Through tunnels and down ladder, through
Muck and slime, a dark descent into
The very core of musical genius, centuries
Ahead of their time, a few hours witness
Brought to the surface would suffice
To change the direction of music forever
The band played on, without fame or glory
Lost in the heaven of music transcendent

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
This entry was posted in books, fiction, literature, novels, personal, poetry, writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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