The Key

You were immune to my prose

my rhymes bouncing off your chest

violets, roses and tulips

I had to strike the chord

to cut deep

to reach your heart

notes floating through the air

mastering the wind

It turned the key

and you let me in

Art is art right?  Or is one medium harder than another?  Is one medium more powerful than another.  Today I'm retreading ground on an idea I talked about before:  How writing poetry is for the people not talented enough to write songs.  I know that is probably not a popular opinion amongst all my avid poetry fans but it's something I hold to be true.  Maybe I've put song writing on the pedestal next to her, but wait... how did I get back on the topic of her again?  Peace out.

Old Song

The taste of imitation lingers in my mouth
like ringing in my ear after a loud boom
the metal spoon rolling between my fingers
dexterous distraction
firing nerves from my hand to my brain
fake cake and wax candles
edible lies and good intentions
my stomach craves authenticity 
electricity
and the taste of an old song

Spoiler alert:  The title gives it away.  I'm not on a diet in case anyone assumed that from today's piece.  And I didn't have any cake today.  Today is a good day to talk about fake things.  Or maybe not fake things but things that are not as good as what they are trying to be like.  Well, maybe they aren't even trying to be like them, but they just get grouped with them... What am I talking about?  I'm talking about hearing a song that makes you want to listen to this other totally more awesome song.  Or watching a movie that reminds you of another better movie.  Or reading a line in a book that makes you totally want to read all 3 books from a different author.

How do the mediocre survive in a world with superlatives?  Peace out.

Blank Cheque

I write to you as one of the ordinary
with feeble phrasing and loose rhymes
I spent the past few weeks looking for words
how do I capture your beauty this time?

With memorized words, you enthrall me
tickling the corners of my mind
I play a song
trying to do the same thing for you in kind

I'm lost
I'm a wreck
I've put my neck out
and written you a blank cheque

I watched Forrest Gump the other day.  What is it about that movie that just captures my imagination?  And do I feel so awful after because I'm jealous of all the great things Forrest got to do in his life?  I dunno.  Jenny where are you?  Peace out.