Gothic rockers wailing
on screeching stringed instruments.
Boisterous vocal chords resonating
out of crackled speakers.
Voices that reflect misunderstanding,
shouting out to the disillusioned,
begging for attention,
if only momentarily.
A satanic curse,
a splintered squeal,
a piercing rhyme,
a cry for help.
The rhythms,
so broken and despaired,
filling bodies with movement,
circulating through one's toes.
A bass line so curvaceous
melts into sound so atmospheric,
so telling of its time,
resulting in a spirit's combustion.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem