The chosen
tone deaf
to their fortune
Musicians
their heads
in the sand
The roadies
eat pizza
still frozen
While Angels
play bass
in the band
Indulgence
the pick
on their fretboard
Entranced
by the lure
of the bong
Benighted
the riffs
play without them
Not going
or coming
— just gone
(The New Room: March, 2024)
-
Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: March 25th, 2024 09:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
Offline)
Comments2
An intriguing poem with some great images. I can almost smell that pizza. And the last line just nailed it.
Thanks Tom, very kind of you. As a lover of cold pizza,
I'm headed for the kitchen.
🙂
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