Side A

Find me on the flip-side
where vague percussions
tap below quarter-tones.

I steal what I can from your song
like some high-tech sink drain
I swallow it whole and digest it,
hearing your soft cymbals, until my
weighted Gibson takes me higher.

It's your w(h)ine I sip to feel,
your bent string about to burst
sweetly ringing two notes up.

My love is like a spider, eight legs,
webbing its days, sweetly on fine silk,
searching for the soft hair of the mound,
looking for something sweet to suck,
hanging by a thread through busy days,
living for the night, when predators awake.

There upon the crescendo I wait
for the soft tail, for winter to bleed
me of the heat I had contained,
to punch my bass line up a beat
until it rocks like thunder in a 'cane.

Give it all to me now, tomorrow sucks,
I need to feel the song upon our skin,
to compose the moment with our flame,
it's all spinning one way, turn against it
you'll find you're out of key, I know,
there's a sharp note waiting
just below your fear for me.

Side B

I'm dreaming of Bo Jangles,
tapping on some dusty street,
singing in the no rain of a drought,
it's all about digestion, aggression,
infection, what's your disease?

Gaze into my portal, feel the energy,
transforming from potential to kinetic
Live to love, right now,
or leave me here to bleed
a song of strings in harmony,
flowing through my river veins,
blue as the sky behind your eyes.

With the sun they rose
to punch out their days
pounding out their years
till they themselves were
plastic enough to be recycled,
pierce their balls and brand their heads,
tell them Jesus, knew how to dance,
or Carlos, never would have stroked a lick.

With my tongue I dance,
my life's a song of poems
you are my today,
dancing on strings,
In the key of C.

ajs

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...