Bad music couldn't sit still anymore
so it stood and
started walking, stumbling
like a drunken sailor.
These weren't the beautiful songs
written by people who thought
pianos had wings,
this was guts and guns music.
It was bound to explode
against the surface of progressive thinking,
bound to splatter, like oranges
thrown by angry policemen
at a convention of poets signing
iambic peace petitions.
Those oranges were red
so some warned
there would be pools of blood
wherever you stood.
.
so it stood and
started walking, stumbling
like a drunken sailor.
These weren't the beautiful songs
written by people who thought
pianos had wings,
this was guts and guns music.
It was bound to explode
against the surface of progressive thinking,
bound to splatter, like oranges
thrown by angry policemen
at a convention of poets signing
iambic peace petitions.
Those oranges were red
so some warned
there would be pools of blood
wherever you stood.
.
--------------------------------------
--> This Poem originally appeared on A Poetic Justice
--> Warm thanks and welcome to Andre de Korvin
--> This Poem originally appeared on A Poetic Justice
--> Warm thanks and welcome to Andre de Korvin
