Her Bland Palate
Echoes bouncing off the walls
Falling on none at all
Whispers that grew screaming loud
Not heard or understood(ever)
Frustrated and hoarse
I left them behind
Saying
Nothing
Painting in broadest stokes I knew
Squinted eyes made out no image clear
Furious my brush hand wouldn't have them see
A picture made for you
A labor of my heart
But you squinting
do not see
Anything?
Every song I play falls on deaf ears
The tones are foreign you say
Melodies don't speak to you Ever
Only music playing for everyone appeals
To you if it's contrived and catchy
The lyrics don't resonate?
Surely you might like
Music that stands
For
Something?
If all that stimulates is minimally amusing
The highs set to medium in an over-all low
How can I Identify? How do I see life how you see?
The words have no meaning? Art no beauty?
Music no texture? Life no color?
If bland is your palate...we cannot be
For this is all that I am
You feeling connected...
To me means...
Everything!!
Copyright © Steve Voorhees | Year Posted 2009
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