Nat King Cole

a/note: this poem is separated by commas to show a series of thoughts,
and ends with a comma as well to keep it hanging...
hopefully it is a good device. feedback please

How frequent it is that my room rhythm is Silence,
the guitar is out of tune, all but noise and screeches of strings,
Funny that at the very least I get
drowsy and sleep,

I try to play, form this hand to tap
whatever note, pick whichever string,
at times in unison, varying harshness,
varying strengths, other times inventing,

At other times in this craziness
I willfully let loose the strings,
pull it off-scale,
loosen it
till it seems to overflow out of itself,
I embrace these tunes, let ring, let cry,
let them whistle and while away,
let them slide so smooth,

but more often they scream and shout,

I still endeavor to play,
I try to play your favorite Nat King Cole
in various keys,
putting all the majors in lonesome minors,
it don't fit,
but that's enough,
enough for me,
sometimes it's drop D,
at times drop A,

nat king cole,
performed by Korn
in waltz,

Drag the silence into noise
"When I fall in love",
…RAHRGGH,

Sometimes I amuse myself,
Play that pentatonic minor in A
without no lyrics,
but I still fill the room
with seeming applause,
concerto, blues, center stage,
you on front row seat, pretending,
expecting your kiss in
every wave of
my fingers on the fretboard

when it rains,
ah well, no bother,
at night, more so,

it's well, you see, because you never
bother to learn more,
you don't know,
don't know how to capo
you got bored,
haven't i told you
C, D, E, A, G
won't do you good, and

been frequest that my rooms
hymn is a silent guitar,
boisterous with all the fingerings and boasful scales
but no songs or lyrics,

I play alone,yes
with none but my guitar
to admire me, at the very least I get
drowsy and sleep
but it's no longer funny,