Well, I wrote it, I might as well post it…
That arm chair’s an ad-hock guitar stand
I haven’t sat there for a month man
But I play my guitar
Sat on an old speaker
Not over there
because that chair’s a sleeper.
I am known as a portraiture painter
And I do paint well, but at times feel it fainter
Than fingering round musical notes on the strings
Of a body that resonates senses and feelings
Rendering a picture unnamed,
Personal, live in this time frame.
Music though, ‘s not restricted to strings,
Its got numbers and patterns and meanings,
Devices, comparatives and origins.
And I feel obligated to dive in,
To research, contemplate, assimilate,
And be worthy enough to participate.
I should make sure that chair’s an acquaintance.
Its a gap in my day to day maintenance
To chase rhythm and rhyme
Yet leaving no time
To repair to the chair
And see nothing from there.