Dark Guitar
Darkened concert hall
of throbbing air and spasm,
lightning songs, the soaring
gale of falcon heaven;forcibly he sings and lures
the first one free to travel
dull Madonna,
no resistance to her lord,
she strains toward him
trailing petals.He’s not impressed
with stuff she’s ever heard of,
knows a fluffy bower from a filthy flat,
but she’s adept at second hand illusion,
clothing more bizarre than he has ever dreamed.They utter simple lingo, handy paint,
consumer safe, contains no meaning
hidden symbol, special reference
nothing traceable to either speaker.Ultimate willows, grand symphonic
overhanging, overhearing
let us learn through every voice
or eye they wish awake and every
sense and taste that touches earth,all strength illusion, promise worthless, otherwise.
Restore us to gods with dark guitar
in crunchy wondrous lethal cadence,
face the rumble-bellied bottomless pit,
extend the treble scream with elbow bent
and howl the maddening madrigal.
It’s not enough to feed the blasphemy,
the hip rotation, knock of thighs beneath us,
flames that eat our slender chances,"Make us pulp and fiction,
legendary sci-fi lovers
body-piercing, group-devoted members
pledged for night-zone tampering,
leathery company, now in session.Cyber-darlings,
no more genre-vague existence.
Kiss my fat beyond.
Look us up in any guide to distant futures
read our saga carved in Ho-jo naugha-form,
and take a stab at universal hero tales."The water’s green device
is playing solo in his feeling,
dowsing empty streets at times
and playing note for note
the who-knows-how-many
street lamps needed
to orchestrate his solitude.He plays the gigs and psychs himself
to moon about in stage delight.
A rainbow skin mirage effect
distorts his aura, soon to igniteand gravity gone, they float apart
accepting void before fulfillment comes,
the constant yes of every heart
behind them, treading summer, cool
in concert dark with graceful words
to please the ones who dance in place.ŠJimmy Warner Design, 2001