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The Progression Concept
a project by jonathan delucia…
I cut the radio
Cut it off
I cut the radio off.
I no longer want to hear songs
we didn’t make.
Indeed this was a stamp on my memory,
violet and orange ink fill my history,
Sunrise
Get it.
Palms out…grab it.
A stamp on our history.
Let all Creation hear what you and I whisper.
To you,
my new muse,
my poem.
The one who’s breath adds third harmonics to mine
In the most
sexiest of taste.
I am a skinny, pink organ who vibrates.
To you belong my letters,
for you hear them and don’t burn them.
Rather, you dip them in water with our roses.
An offering to her
so worthy of it’s value.
she will capture my lovesongs from now on
and I hers,
Muse. I will be her muse too.
Muse
Music
For you, love, time is faithful deposits.
Our hair will get longer, our skin darker,
And in merely time…
I will lock you in to my genius.
And you will put me in the space between your lungs,
For I am young.
And you are the kind one.
As we wait, grow…
And we will sing our songs under tribal destinies.
We will kill boys and girls and create new ones…
©2009 Jonathan DeLucia, all rights reserved.
palms out…grab it when it comes.