Email Poem

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Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
My Life is a song sung in a 
series of repetitive inferior notes.
I’m unable to record mellow melodies, 
as my violin strings continually play 
with reckless violet villains. 
As I sit and replay recitals of 
bleeding love harmonies. 

My soul is shattered and sunken 
in silent sonnets. 
I'm flickering through the tears of 
tainted years of hexagon heartbreaks. 
Unable to trust poetic phrases from a 
cedar conductor whose musical agility 
makes my saxophone eyes sing. 
I conceal my sunrise hope in a 
chaotic chorus of anguish; 
which I play to my sympathetic 
amber anxiety, to justify the 
lonesome path I’ve chosen to hike. 

I fail to embrace the serenity 
of their light rap rhymes 
in my erratic brain. 
Instead, I reminisce 
about my sorrowful pity puddle spells, 
when countless deceptive trumpets 
stole my musical directives 
destined for classical charts.  
I am forsaken in operas of 
maroon misery serenaded by 
these weeping, wailing windpipes. 

I desire to awaken my 
ancient pop culture life. 
The sangria sunrise era 
when only rainbow hits escaped my pen.  
I recall I wrote reams of rhythmic sheets;  
filled with halo heroes, 
painting electrical euphoria 
upon Harvard's crisp horizons. 
A time when youthful bands sang of 
everlasting devotion, 
glowing glee upon my ebony core.

My fuschia feet are wounded and 
depleted from my frequent falls in 
my ballet of ruby romances.  
I aspire to dance to all the Jazz 
freedom beats and not break-dance 
with soprano snakes. 
As I’ve detected, they are thirsty for my 
rhythmic rays for their 
applause and accolades to reign. 

Now is the time for my piano to 
recreate my platinum diamond hits.   
For my lyrical pieces to thrive,  
I must retire my historical woes to the 
rear of my Broadway sympathy show. 
I accept this is the only way 
to win my desired Tony prize.
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