Physical Performer

I’m the kind of musician

Who takes the position

That music should lay bare your feelings.

I just want you to feel

Something solid and real,

Raw emotions, unveiled, revealing.


If my lyrics of passion,

Elicit no reaction,

I feel I do my audience wrong,

For I want them to leave

Truly saddened and grieved,

Wholly aching and pained from my songs.


Oh I want them to cry!

Runny nose, bleary eye!

When I lift my guitar from its case.

So I give them mournful words,

One or two minor chords,

And some sharp fretboard slaps to the face.


Music these days,

Is impersonal, staid,

There is no bond, no magic, no awe.

But they sure tear up quick,

When I put down my pick,

And sock them right under the jaw.


In this way we connect,

And feel music’s effect,

On a tactile, tangible plane,

Though my lyrics have charm,

With a couple stiff-arms,

Only then do they sense what I’m saying.


Yes, it’s true some do think

My performance technique

Too physical, up to that I will own.

But though I am quite the bard,

It has proven quite hard,

And I’ve given up trying,

To get my audience crying

Through sad lyrics and melodies alone.

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