This Poetry is Rock and Roll

This poetry is rock and roll.

This poetry is screaming until your ears bleed dry.

It’s sex and explosions and fire raining down from a blood-drenched sky.

It’ll infiltrate your ears, your mind, your soul.

It’ll split skulls, drench with tears, light your bowls.

It’ll make you fall in love, get you laid, get you paid.

It’ll shake you in your boots and rain down razor blades.

It’ll pile on the pain, the heartbreak, the shadows in the gloaming.

It’ll send your body rocking, your tired soul roaming.

It’s highways and train tracks and rockets to the sky.

It’ll set your soul ablaze and get you drunk and high.

It’ll paint a picture of me standing on a stage.

Full of glowing energy, anger and rage.

It’ll twist its way through alleys and oily streets.

It’ll melt steel with white hot heat.

It’ll snow and rain and storm and strike

with lightning and thunder and unearthly might.

It’ll whisper words in your waiting ears

that will bring you to orgasm, bring you to tears.

It’ll rock you like crazy all through the night

until your windows let in lazy morning light.

This poetry is rock and roll

full of danger, fire, dark and light.

This poetry won’t back down.

It will always scratch and claw and fight.

Until it becomes calm seas, rainbows, and doves.

Until the doors open

to warmth and light and love.