Black - Don't Stop The Music

Don't Stop The Music.


yo -


notes, intricately placed to motion a symphony
instrumental dissertations boasting vocal epiphanies
composing so brilliantly, this spotlights' smoky consistency
lead me to believe i've seen the ghost of a middle C.
cloaked visibility - the utter magic of sound,
thrusting eternal sunshine from those shadowy clouds;
we danced the night away, spinning ever faster around
on a balcony, overlooking half of our town ..
you wept inside my arms, recanting tragedies, downs,
but i brought you up 'til we forgot about the grass on the ground.
stripped away the satin lace that sat in your gown,
and we moved until the music had us practically drowned.
yet it was vastly profound how once the melody died,
the devil showed his face inside your heavenly eyes
your shoulder turned colder as you'd heavily sigh
say a few good words, & then an apathetic goodbye..
the only moment when our "we" was ever separate from "I",
cause only portions of your heart n' soul could ever be mine.

the presence of Chopin, Van Beethoven or Bach
determined whether bathroom doors were open or locked.
whether lonely or not, whether temps were pleasant or hot
and whether frantic cell phone calls were accepted or blocked.
whether classical, pop, heavy metal or rock -
you'd pulsate to the tempo in an elegant shock,
FM static was your answer to affectionate knocks,
planted seeds until your sheriff had my deputy shot.
fretting the dots, vibrating waves, molecular frequencies
but headphones kept those experiences nestled in secrecy.
subliminal meanings overcasting ethical decency,
since one can just, adjust a treble level so easily ……
regretting that recently, i've been feeling silent as mutes
little birds chirping snow white songs & tying a noose,
we met beneath the sound of music; violently fused
then torn apart by it's beauty - i guess that "irony" suits.
the vibrancy, tunes that change our paths & perspectives
alters perception, all to rearrange synaptic connections,
trapped in a second - unable to accept our destruction
but you simply kept it moving to a steady percussion..

now, all i have is memories and unlimited space
your existence erased, leaving town without a smidgeon or trace
a record player, wood grained inside it's original case
while i listen to our relationship, spinning in place ..
addicted to tapes, mp3's and epic performances
another roadie for another band that endlessly voyages,
the second a tour begins, i'm uncomfortable, dearest..
it's hard to be a human who's in love with a spirit
we grew on bass, crescendoing percussion & lyrics
and the music never stops..

even if i'm the only one who can hear it.



- Black

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