Archive for bass

Beat

Posted in death, health, Mental Health, music, Poetry, writing with tags , , on March 12, 2014 by Graeme Cooper

Strange
Food brings
Mood swings. He
Could sing
Brooding lullabies but
Her bright eyes
Catch the light like
The glitterball gleaming in
The ceiling of his
Sleep; compressing the chest
Of the restless bass player pacing
The empty stage of
His empty dreams, promising
Oblivion,
That thoughtless dominion
Of the obvious
rhyme.
While unseen drummer summons
The legions of the beat,
Unseen lesions secrete murderous
Chemicals sweet and he
Sleeps with the disco lights on,
Afraid of dancing with the dark.

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