Resonance

Melodious messages were pressed against my neck

like a pedal pushed when stepped upon by a foot,

exquisitely excruciating in its skillfully mastery

in how musicians of power can play another person

as if they were an instrument prepared to sing,

just use that sustaining stress lever

to ensure their resonance complies

with the notes on the rhetoric sheet music.

 

I used to cling to the illusion

there was a chance to be a composer

who was free to use life’s keyboard of controls,

allow my mind write its only masterpiece,

give it tones that conveyed my soul.

 

Only the clan of cloned conductors

refused to grant me a chance to practice

on any stage or studio

unless I let them to place their name

upon anything I created.

 

Realizing to my chagrin

you don’t have to have a piano

in order to dampen the harmony

of a person’s serenade.