If I Had A Piano, I´d Play You The Blues

                  s. e. gardner

    in five movements

I.

 

hints of truth

splatter concrete

 

we spend the night with IPAs

listening to Tito

whistling

¨Lovely Day¨

 

old habits die hard.

II.

 

Plum lacy but minimal

unveils

my guarded belt.

 

Impossibility arises

when you dance

and I sing.

 

Replicate

Neitzche´s Eternal Reoccurance.

III.

 

we see everything.

 

our lens

 

imaginary.

 

 

 

 

in silence

 

you are real.

V.

 

waiting at the stop

she neglects passage

 

Can I play wife again tonight?

 

Better lovers.

 

The air bites the magic off my lips.

 

She smells of applesauce and absynthe.

 

I don´t want to know who died.

 

My hand slips.

 

Tears crack the asphault.

 

We stop in at the bar around the corner.

 

Tomorrow begins again.

 

 

IV.

 

Inside the crevices

of your abstract

abode

darkness disappears.

 

A screenshot.

 

I disappear.

 

You forgot what came before.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                             

      Moaning in the Music                                                                        by  s.  e.  gardner

Moaning In The Music, a poem written by Stephanie Gardner, was made into a film, silent except for the narration of the poem, and set to music by Paul Merrill.  Paul performed the score live to the screening of the film on January 26th, 2013, at the Barrister's Club, as part of a fundraiser for Stephanie's film, And If  I Stay.  
View a clip of the live performance, below.

I.

 

The moaning is in the music
the music is in the mind
the mind is over stimulated
the call comes right on time.

I sneak into your requiem
I slide into your mind
the heart feels so much lighter now
the heart feels undefined.

I plagiarize my poetry
we play the scene again
I plagiarize my own intent
of actions and pretend.

I´m hungry
I´m alive
I´m awake
I´m surprised

The moaning is in the music
but the music is in the mind.

II.

 

The moaning is in the music
the music plagues the mind
the mind is drenched in alcohol
the body´s soaked in wine.

The wine-soaked sheets turn to blood
like Jesus on the cross
But I´m no Mary Magdalene
though he can taste my loss.

He penetrates my subconscious
despite our casual fling
he permeates the stratosphere
while others fail to sing.

From virgin to ho and back again
his charms reverse the clock
from ho to virgin and back again
he broke me on the spot.

The blood soaked sheets
the wine
the mind
it´s all a mess
I´m all a mess
I cry  
you call
I cry
I fall
I cry  
they yell
I cry
but where´s the comfort?

The sex
the noise
the hate
the boys

The love
the tears
the hope
the fears

It all collides
I fall
he calls
again
to hear
the moaning 
in the music
but the music plays off key
the mind is so much number now
the body´s no less free.

III.  

 

The moaning is in the music

the music soothes the mind

the mind is so much calmer now

the heart is redefined.

 

You wash my tears

we lay to rest

I rest my head

against your chest

we hear the music

in your heart

a quiet beating

from the start

a gentle rhythm drums my soul

my mind is healed

your bones, restored. 

 

Let’s hear the music

one more time

 

toast you and me

just one more time

 

boast you with me

Hell, one more time!

 

We’ll hear the music

in your mind

 

We’ll hear the moaning

one more time

 

you’ll touch the music

in my mind

 

The music

in the moaning

the moaning

in the mind

 

The moaning

in the music

 

But the music

is oh so wonderfully

in my mind.

                        Titration                                                              

 

 

 

He calls it romance.

 

I call it a slow absorption of confusing coincidences.

 

Pour into the subconscious periphery of miscellaneous titration.

 

Fracture this exceeding hunger.

 

The itch of your mind.

A silent moan.

Drowsiness delivers.

 

I sip the pollution of your kiss.

 

Crash.

I'm yours.

 

                                                                                                   

                                                                                                                                           s. e.  gardner