"accidentals" poems
A script for birth - an new revival,
libelled breaks, swollen structure,
a cupboard full of accidentals,
daubs this paragon with stucco:
Glowsticks prance on leveled stair,
canvas origami pads Negeb:
Counterculture's been declared!
'Metropolis' left in riverbed.
A crypt where all is fairly loose;
—deepened, glottal, breathened, size—
Saddled with this torment, you!
—ugly glamour pangyrized—
There's a lot more to fashion,
and a lot more, to forge;
Nothing keeps me in *******
that would be too awkward.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
Strong, hefty dynamics with a crescendo-ing beginning
Living as though you could fly
You try your hardest
Finally, the melody accompanied by such bewildering brass
Making you believe in human flight
Of the mind
The soul
And the mentality of each body
The andante section arrives with light and graceful woodwinds
Creating softer atmospheric winds
Suddenly, you start to fly
Spiritually, mentally
There are accidentals
There is cut time
Running eighth notes in the woodwinds give you the energy
The energy to do whatever you want
Even to conquer the skies
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
Chaos
The buzz of constant sound
Heavy percussion beating, beating
My heart that longs for you
The music of my love grows;
Crescendos, at the mere grace of you
Every chord is consonant, never dissonant
As is the good character of your person
Love, like music, is never perfect
It's full of too many sharps and flats
Accidentals. Accidents. Mistakes.
But sound pleasant to the unknowing ear
These mistakes are what make us unique
Different from anything composed before it
For isn't that what love truly is?
A perfect melody only we can share
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 6:25 PM UTC
I sat there, it may as well
Have been a whole day
Cranked up the volume
And heard them screaming at me
"You're an idiot!"
Yelled Bach
******* quivering little ****
Mozart shook his head
The tears welled up
But then they stopped
Because someone else stepped in
"Just relax. Close your eyes."
Floyd was understanding
Floyd got me
I floated away from self-loathing
Dropped back into the façade that was
The day
And I grinned like an idiot
Manilow? Yeah, we sang together
Paul and John? You best believe
We're a three-person harmony
M'lady Pink requested my voice
And I gave it to her
I sang loud and out of tune
Because they requested it
And finally, Mozart and Bach
Apologized with their minor keys
And accidentals
Their music emblazoned with the word
Genius
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 11:28 PM UTC
A Nation
A collection of accidentals
Born in terror and blood
Whitewashed in anthems and history
A unity now compelled
Even to shed blood
Against your brothers
Trapped in the same monstrosity
Yet many waved its flag
Proudly and foolishly
And the Banner of Love
Left trampled in blood and death.
Jul 18, 2024
Jul 18, 2024 at 12:52 AM UTC
Let the haunting memory of his love play one more song for me, for it is he the most beautiful lullaby my heart has ever heard.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 12:51 AM UTC
Music changes the way I hear you.
Your voice is a minor scale.
The accidentals are like the different connotations to your words.
Your laugh chimes in my ears in C#.
Your sigh is a subtle whole rest,
the silence swelling into three measures.
Your whisper reminds me of the flutes
in the mid-section of the orchestra.
Your heart beat is the timpani,
beating endlessly.
Your murmurs are the grace notes
right before the melody.
Every sound you make
is like music to me.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 11:16 PM UTC
Desolate
Unyielding notes
Accumulate
Silhouetting umbra
Breaking through
Architectural shadow
Flickers of bloom & bounty
From a sleeping
Satiated bride
Reposed upon
The chaise longue
Softly interlacing
The accidentals
With a final grace note
Before absolute stillness
Reprises
May 1, 2020
May 1, 2020 at 10:58 AM UTC
In the end, they had to break into his room
He was dead in his chair, and quite alone
Self-exiled from his family for years
Alone in a shell, silent, and alone
The accidentals of life were cast away:
A coffee *** a coat over a door
His schedule for the methadone clinic
A note to meet with his parole officer
But the pathology tox screen was clean -
Better than most of us, he went down fighting
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 4:35 PM UTC