Our Safe, Smoky Womb – Poem by nakedEric


Our Safe, Smoky Womb

by  nakedEric

 

I can make this wiggle with precision

Your eyes grip the round corner where he inserts a cable

Tethered neatly I stand before everyone

Ready to disturb silence with my behavior that echoes

As per electric despondency

Like the pied with his pipe, like the bible with his priest.

 

Guitar one opens fire on two beats

I feel ready to come in four

A chord to light the tickle in their ear

And a solo to impair their blink, a sheer need to watch the dedos

Tickle tightly wound steel; you feel a moist wah, then follow me

Back into the melody I wrote in an alley

Trying to kill myself with instruments

I borrowed from the doctor’s lyrics to a nameless pharmacy

Scrawled on blue paper, the rhythm section calls it

Our own form of blues.  We are legally stoned

On soma for an age that’s spilled our safety

To make room for more money in the outfit of a system

The best part of delusion is our illusion of choice

But as I center my self on the stage I can see longing eyes

Asking for an escape.  Our quiet connection is the noise I create

And the moist sand of my voice

Making us all children again burying daddy at the beach.

Nobody can come close to robbing us of this purity

For now we are an elite race of our own

Our flaws are like badges sewn to flesh coloring the night

With my brethren of strangers gathered to hear me

Touch their feelings, some sans passage to the surface

A note bent from an A# penetrates with my staccato

And breathes deep as I inhale your soul for a moment.

 

The dry evening pours from the sky and I am looking at my audience

They are so much more than can be corralled in cubicles

I want my new friends to be happy and hear me telling them

I understand without words, only music, like entertainment

But completely different.  Here we are without a net, we are stalking the

Midnight secret; together we learn more about this sacred ride

A dive into a moment for the sake of the experience itself

Not contingent on consequence or married to guilt.

I sing strongly, proudly as my intro melts away

This venue holds the key to my release only when I lock myself inside.

Now the audience sings along.  They know my song and

I welcome the warm chorus

They say he is the man who knows me more,

They say his music touches my soul

And speaks lullabies so it can rest one time

Before the bitter paralyzes it again

Today is Sunday. A holy day for all who know

That sometimes it is that which you can never touch at all

Which moves you more than substance, trite words in an office

Or a love letter from the girl who’s planning to leave you if you don’t marry

It ends with I love you, but means I own you and you say I love you

And mean I love you.

These unspoken truths are outside in the dark,

Checked like baggage at the door

I grin at nothing but anticipation of the lead I am about to trigger

The audience respectfully silent as I hit notes that are boulders

Forming a bridge to these fans of mine that will be

Always carried in their hearts

And they feel it.  They came here for this

They came here to share in a bath with strangers

Who are never at liberty to say

What they feel most passionately in their hearts

Because our world wasn’t built that way.

 

But for one sacred hour on this Sunday in New Jersey

I deliver secrets from the chasm, the chaos

To a room full of strangers dotted with friends

Who help explain why I do this every night.

I make this wiggle, these steel strings wound taut over wood

So that I can lead in the exodus of these regular people from their lives

And without violence they kill themselves, are reborn into innocence

A raw child in a womb, this smoky saloon

Is our holy temple of freedom where we worship each other

And, for an hour or so, are delivered into bliss

By the tones I allow to touch strangers who love me like a friend

A friend I need.  My bliss is found as they disarm themselves

Of the warfare they use to survive their lives and loves

My goal is to set them free

And every night I play them these songs

I am not the rejected lover or the sensitive fool

I am the lone soldier rock star

Who somehow is cool…

 

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