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Thursday, May 1, 2008

My Sister the Music Maker

Revision 2
Brown eyes clear as mud, gaze
across an ebony reflection
of cracked ashtrays and dreams of fame
yet to be realized.

Her slender fingers tipped
in green enamel meet with music's
ivory keys and to an unfocused witness
they become one with the notes
of a baby grand.


An innocence beneath masks
of music maker and entertainer
still remains, sealed away behind
the curtains.

Only the lull of a bass resuscitates
the heart beat of her forgotten child;
the one who used to soar upon
others melodies and grew to breathe
her own.

An audience applaudes her soul's secrets,
plucked out on a guitar's crimson strings
to the charge of an eight beat.
Wooden sticks strike metal and air
while a Nike shoe creates homeless echos
with each pedal kick.

The music of her life spills off the stage
in a subtle lullaby, seduced from instruments
by her melody infused fingers.

Revision 1
Brown eyes gaze through a muddied depth
across an ebony reflection as ivory fingers,
tipped in green enamel, meet
with music's own ivory keys.
One and the same to an unfocused witness.

An innocence beneath the masks
of music maker and entertainer
still remains, sealed away behind
the curtains, shielded from the lights.
Only the lull of a bass, played through
electric wires, reaches her forgotten
child's hand, revealed in a tender pitch.

Strangers applaud as their ears ring
with her soul's secrets plucked out
on a guitar's crimson strings to the
charge of an eight beat, wooden sticks
striking metal and air while a Nike shoe
creates homeless echos with each
pedal kick.

The music of her life whispered
in a lullaby, scattered across the stage,
her soul unlocking with each inked note.
Ivory fingers seducing instruments
to play subtle melodies plucked from behind
her muddied brown eyes.

Original
Brown eyes clear as mud
gaze across an ebony reflection
as ivory fingers tipped in green enamel
meet with music's ivory keys,
one and the same to an unfocused
witness.

An innocence beneath the masks
of music maker and entertainer
still remain, sealed away in a sun
lit prison, only the lull of a bass
played through electric wires,
reaches her forgotten child's hand,
brought out in a trance vocal scream.

Strangers applaud as their ears ring
with her souls secrets plucked out
on a guitars crimson strings to the
charge of an eight beat, wooden sticks
striking metal and air while a nike shoe
creates homeless echos with each
pedal kick.

The music of a life far from over
was what she played, vocals,
raw as an angels whisper,
a childs lullaby on the wires of a bass,
her soul unlocked by ivory keys and
played by steel stings.
Her eyes were brown and clear as mud,
and her ivory fingers were the lovers to
any instrument and to her strangers ears
she was one and the same.

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