Ain’t Too Proud to Brag

Through relations with a mass of disinterested silence,
I brought a brand new bundle of sound into this world;
One quite heavy and damaging in nature-
My body will never again hold the same shape.
I tried my best at directing its movements
Towards more proper forms of expression,
To no avail, of course; though I was never disappointed.
It grew into its own best image,
A sturdy structure serving the souls of the hearing impaired-
My original labors are well worth it, still…

Functioning Formalities

My body once told me, “A gal ain’t meant to live on music, alone,”
To which I responded, “You go on ahead and watch me whither,
Whilst I spin this hot air into gold.”
Weaving together phrases to measure my flesh in time with the cold,
Synchronized in harmony with such priestly meditations,
I defiantly dared, “May these beastly and overgrown premises hold firm ground alongside
Any rhythmic quakes and sound after-shivers, draped in the finest of fabrics!”

An Unending Wait Yields to No Purpose

Much like Death, I just can’t say when you’ll come a knockin’ on my door,
When you’ll reveal your sensational essence amidst my realm of immediacy-
Or, even how you’ll knock!
Jeeze Louise!
Will it be a gentle rap-a-tap-tapping, so faint as to barely attract notice,
Or, will your fist force itself into my relative space of quiet by impressionable means of a puissant pounding?!
Anticipation weighs heavy upon my soul,
And though I’ll find you not in dread,
These uncertain thoughts may render my doing anything about your certain arrival quite impossible…