Friday, January 6, 2012

Chasing The Muse

There are sounds coming from this piece of wood

tied with metal strings.

They are discordant and broken,

they are disjointed and jagged.

There are sounds coming from within me

from a strangle in my throat.

There are words and notes

that cannot reach a key.

There are things I want to say

there are things I want to hear.

There is nothing translating

into words or sounds.

I am slightly off balance,

I am slightly out of step.

I am ready to throw

this guitar across the room.

Everything sits on the surface

taunting and whispering words.

The peripheral noise has tangled

all that’s been said.

I am trying to listen, to echo the sounds that I hear

yet my voice just disappears into thin air.

She is like a lover that teases

this muse, this devilish sprite.

She is the chase,

she is the never ending want.

When I want her here

she evades my every touch.

When I need her to leave

she haunts me like a ghost.

Today I am going to put her down

and let her come to me.

And maybe when she calls

I’ll let her in… 

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