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aM i DiStUrBeD?
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On stage in five.
Was the cry that sailed through the door,
To the unsuspected performer:
Knelt upon the floor.
With one hand he wiped his mouth,
The other used for a prop.
As he steadily makes for the door,
“Must keep going, cannot stop.”
Stumbling into the corridor
Putting his face into the crowd,
The hum of the waiting suspense
As he voiced his displeasure out loud.
Tripping onto the stage,
He has been here before
The audience which shout to greet him:
The Goth, the punk, the whore.
As the lyrics begin to spill,
From his lips: old and cracked
The music beginning to rock
Hits him with all of his own impact.
That man upon the stage,
His status: ‘An agèd rock star’,
Relives his life through his music:
His soul and his guitar.
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041228
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