No Title
Calibrated creation
sinew,
muscle,
instinct,
reaction,
lofting us
by the enigmatic beat
provided by the machine gun drummer.
Bass rifts
presented
by the devil himself
with their endarkening allure,
come in low
as the blood splattering
guitar melody takes affect,
stabbing fast
with the broad side
of the blade,
making way
for the chains
sent by the singer
to hook into your soul.
Synaptic sparking solos
tangle within
the folds of your brain
bringing your body alive.
That is the powers of hard music.
Copyright © Mark Matthews | Year Posted 2008
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