Benighted Poem by Kurt Philip Behm

Benighted

The chosen
tone deaf
to their fortune

Musicians
their heads
in the sand

The roadies
eat pizza
still frozen

While Angels
play bass
in the band

Indulgence
the pick
on their fretboard

Entranced
by the lure
of the bong

Benighted
the riffs
play without them

Not going
or coming
— just gone

(The New Room: March,2024)

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