Michael Coy Poet Free verse

Satisfaction, Part 3 of 4

Not Fade Away

What are these people going to do? 
I'm on my nineteenth nervous breakdown. 
Why do I play with fire? 
Ah, here comes my emotional rescue. 
The boy is bringing my baby, 
open-tuned to G, 
bottom string removed. 
She's so cold, 
but we'll soon get her to respond. 
A touch of reverb, 
and overdrive the amp. 
Connection. 
I think we need an E in there. 
We'll let it find itself, no forcing, 
no expectations. 
Trusting your talent, and 
rolling the tumbling dice ... 
oh, that's nice. 
Start me up! 
Rip this joint. 
Pointless adrenalin - 
that's the point! 
I know it's only rock'n'roll, 
but I like it.

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Darren White March 25, 2017 at 9:07 AM Music is a sort of satisfaction too. It has always been for me, dancing most certainly, nothing could beat that feeling. But still, that decadence in this poem, the way we burn ourselves down, break us apart. So much is being demanded, asked, expected. Michael Coy March 25, 2017 at 9:10 AM Precisely! Thank you for these apposite comments, Darren!