Façade for the Drums

I looked up at the moon this night

For to bathe in the tranquil light

To see technique, hypnotism,

Darkness and recidivism.

 

There’s beauty to be seen, though

Past the trying and past the show

We have to put on every day

Every single day, every way.

 

There’s a drumming, this sound

Is loud, it’s all around;

Deafening, thumping, close:

A bassline so morose.

 

This drumming it throbs and pounds

Merciless the beating sounds

Oh how it aches, the aching,

Broken incessant breaking.

 

Where’s the beauty to be seen

In this facade all serene?

I’m past trying, I’m past show

Past the point I need to go.

 

I looked into the mirror that night

A reflection of self born from light

With no sight, no sound of what’s within

Nothing left if I’m stretched too thin.

 

What sight when eyes light on my visage

Is by my might lost by calm mirage

But you see smiles and are unsure

Because the drums ne’er pass your door.

 

Nonexistent words are tough to speak

When answers to questions that you seek

Will not come forth for you not ever

Stuck you are to futile endeavour.

 

If you listen then perhaps you’ll know

The sound I spoke of long ago:

This drumming, hammering I hear

Is inside me; a darkening fear.

 

“Of what?” you ask as if I can answer

As a dance comes to ballet dancer

“Everything” is all that I can speak

But know saying so is being meek.

 

The moon as a silver drum forlorn

Beating light onto this my form

As I lay in grass and face the sky

And for no reason begin to cry.

 

Is that beauty you see, or a pretence

You tell me because we’re friends

Hiding behind your words unsure

Because the drums are at your door?

 

Do you see the truth of what’s inside

A weight we bear but care to hide,

A frightened child inside our bones

So lost and scared to be alone?

 

© Kris Blackburn 23/08/2015

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