Hard Core Emo Punk
A crew wearing black
Skin heavily tattooed.
Launches us downward into melodic waters
Soon the grunting guitars slap the rushing power.
They leap.
They crash.
Hundreds of scraping crescendos.
The earth screams.
The pounding rocks beat,
The sides of the black leathery scarred hulls.
Public in their private pain.
Ecstatic in their self-aware struts.
Wires and stage,
Lights and microphones
Disappear in howling abandon.
Grunting guitar
Has more tone
Than exasperated voice.
The storm tossed lake of audience
That is their destination
Echoes their screams
And dances in storm tossed
Disarray
Revealing individual bodies
In the momentary flash
At the constructive interference
Of successive beats.
In sudden silence
The voyage ends
With the pitter-patter
Raindrops
Upon the smiling sweaty
Lake.
albi
Copyright 2003