Friday, November 27, 2009


The harmonic shift;
from a saxophone,
the smooth calm sea;
to the sparks n flashes,
the tropical thunder shower
from a powered six-string.

The tones belong to me,
like or hate, Blues or Rock;
kiss or piss, red bud or black metal.

Yeah, it is from the dishevelled,
lonely cyclist on a mission,
through dark humid alleys.

A mad dog among the many
sane, socialising canines.
Of course, they bark - a vicious choir;
at me, the alien intruder;
the rabid one, the loner,
while I snarl at the Chord. Sorry!

No comments: