My sorrow
Is a symphony-
Point and counterpoint.
Rhythm and tone.
Coalesce together,
But fall to ground
Like a stone.
In my mind-
In my mania-
My crescendos increase
In both harmony and pace-
This symphonic release
Swells so full on my face, that
My old furrowed lines
Are seen in staccato,
And my wrinkled skin
Sags a sad skins,
Sick legato
My orchestral fugue
Is surreal and chaotic-
Cacophony of sound
Tries expressing, neurotic,
What I’m feeling inside
Of a world moving so rapid
Is a flat tonal mess
That’s performed by the vapid.
So, I face each new day
With a lunatic conducting,
Waving his arms in my head-
Unlike a falcons search for prey,
This falcon is blind
And dismayed-
Unalive-
Just like me.
White, choral tones
Ring out from the land
To the sea
With a childish dwell,
And perverse reverie.
I once mastered and played
all these instruments well-
Now their sound is so sad
Like dogs barking in hell
If I couldn’t hear
My sorrows, sad song
A manic madman, like me,
Might exchange cymbal
For gong
Because this whole wide world
Is so fucked up
And wrong.
© Daxyl
2022-23