Music

Music be the food of love,
apparently.
I can't say I agree with that.
Music was bad to begin with,
in the first few years of my life,
crooners and guitars and parental influence.
I would have none of it.
That's just how it was until double digits,
as is so often the case, puberty changed things.
As is perhaps less often the case,
things were changed by a burning stripper.

There was a frog in a pot,
and the water was boiling,
but he wouldn't jump out.
There was a man made of tin,
with his joints clogged with rust,
but he swung on without.

Music be the fuel for rage,
I think is true to say.
I found a way to force out truth,
in this violent way.
I found the pleasure in the dark,
humming, howling song.
If it didn't hurt, it wasn't right -
it just didn't belong.

Things changed, of course.
Music is everything.
I keep my tastes to myself,
I've stored up old bands on the shelf,
because it feels like something private,
sacred and holy.
But in order to feel everything,
something had to kick the door in,
and let my feelings run their course,
and that was rage.
(Well, and the stage -
but all in due time).
Rage and rhyme and verses
and belting out lyrics as if they were curses,
and gorging oneself on the food of love,
until one is sick.

So play on.