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I Want To Be A Phoenix [poem]
Good Looking Fat Guy
Registered User regular
Registered User regular
I Want To Be A Phoenix
Four men stand lithe and slender, clad in suits
Of darkness, prim and posed in a sparse meadow
Gazing furtively, feigning shame for a second chance
Thoughts of yonder age long since past
Ideas of reach to the highest plane again
Fall on deaf ears, cause voices of disdain
Fraudulent grins and illusions of repose
Hide long since neglected souls of inaction
Once exalted kings and dukes in their musical realm
Reduced to fades of memory and halfhearted reverence
Hordes of instruments strewn across the floor
Plucked and pulled with affection for here and evermore
Their fingers are the voices; their toes are the message
The sounds of song rang out all through the night
Toiling through the brusque day and harsh moonlight
Seeking an unfound muse to set the tone right
They may tire, but never give in without might
They remember the advent of a concept grand
They remember the initial awe of unity fourfold
They remember the stench of whisky and scotch
They remember the stories drinks told.
Fame is abundant, forges a perilous screen
Between those of worship, and those who practice the deed
Alas, dismay and discomfort permeate and penetrate
Festering and flourishing, grow into a horror so great
Yet the soldering on continues apace, smiles intact
No pathway to slowing, no lane of retract
Drawn and shuttered panes are the final act
Now, with lessons learned and instructed, they hope to go about again
Cheer and noise of delight and of chorus refrain
Amendments made to the previous course
For music is the supreme force
That governs us all, and governs us well
With only a theme to buy, and ideas to sell
I want to be a phoenix,
I want no death knell,
There’s just an inordinate amount of tales left to tell
-Chris Lavorgna
Four men stand lithe and slender, clad in suits
Of darkness, prim and posed in a sparse meadow
Gazing furtively, feigning shame for a second chance
Thoughts of yonder age long since past
Ideas of reach to the highest plane again
Fall on deaf ears, cause voices of disdain
Fraudulent grins and illusions of repose
Hide long since neglected souls of inaction
Once exalted kings and dukes in their musical realm
Reduced to fades of memory and halfhearted reverence
Hordes of instruments strewn across the floor
Plucked and pulled with affection for here and evermore
Their fingers are the voices; their toes are the message
The sounds of song rang out all through the night
Toiling through the brusque day and harsh moonlight
Seeking an unfound muse to set the tone right
They may tire, but never give in without might
They remember the advent of a concept grand
They remember the initial awe of unity fourfold
They remember the stench of whisky and scotch
They remember the stories drinks told.
Fame is abundant, forges a perilous screen
Between those of worship, and those who practice the deed
Alas, dismay and discomfort permeate and penetrate
Festering and flourishing, grow into a horror so great
Yet the soldering on continues apace, smiles intact
No pathway to slowing, no lane of retract
Drawn and shuttered panes are the final act
Now, with lessons learned and instructed, they hope to go about again
Cheer and noise of delight and of chorus refrain
Amendments made to the previous course
For music is the supreme force
That governs us all, and governs us well
With only a theme to buy, and ideas to sell
I want to be a phoenix,
I want no death knell,
There’s just an inordinate amount of tales left to tell
-Chris Lavorgna