Listen To These (Cor.) Poem by Margaret Alice Second

During my swerving, adrenaline-filled,
road-hogging drive home the bright radio
announcer happily imparted useless facts
like rice grows at night when Beethoven's
Moonlight Sonata is played, but when mice
listened to him they attacked each other -
when Mozart was played they grew more
intelligent in navigating treadmills - this
made sense to me because I listen

To these composers also, Beethoven's piano
sonata makes me very mad starting so sweetly
just to work up to intense fury, much worse than
my bad book rant building murderous intent in me,
the pianist suddenly attacks the piano, then starts
to falsely lure listeners into almost calm passages
in between - and explosions working up a crave to
kill everyone in my vicinity - attacking all while
shouting madly - give me a beautiful Bach

A Harpsichord Concerto - or Chopin's Marche
Funeral beginning with a dark first part, pall-
bearers marching with a corpse, on to the next
with notes in twinkling strings to illustrate the
spirit's sweet release & ascension unto heaven or
the astral dimension - - by severing the sparkling
silver cord, transporting us all into out-of-body
experiences; then pall-bearers return

Still marching heavily, music growing louder as
wind pelts them with rain - drenching their grey
attire, music growing darker as they infuse a little
fire by sharing a strong drink to spur them on and
drop the coffin in the grave, then they leave taking
another swig each - to face the elements - as
the music slowly fades like a long-ago mirage
leaving only sadness in its place…