The Naked Symphonies Poem by Raj Dronamraju

Our schedule entails at least one moment of brutal honesty
But once we got started, we lost all track of time
Jagged tact-free note after jagged tact-free note bursting out with no warning, seemingly without any plan as if improvised

But it's not improvised if your silent you finds courage or refuses to be mistreated any longer
I'll explode one day in a crowded city
Until then, I'll be the anonymous beseecher, imploring silently hoping someone will pick up on my thoughts

For the present, don't call my name
It won't be a comfort or a distraction
I'd rather hear myself cursed out in four letter words
That's a relationship with other people I understand

That must be some sinister karaoke playing the tunes we mouth hardened words along with
That too is a relationship we can grasp
It was beat into us by drafty rental houses where you were alone most of the time
And silent dinners where no one had any questions for anyone else

Now that explosion of dissonance which shouldn't be considered sudden
It's a burlesque of panic where everyone is too entertained to look for a way out
They purse their lips and make excuses under avant garde class distinctions
Where nothing could be further from the truth
This is like a talking x-ray held up to the light it pierces you with the most stinging reflections on your worst qualities

Season ticket holder for the naked symphonies
Wherein all of the above are played in full form, some for sympathy, some for an exorcism
Concertos that cleanse troubled quintessence
The being snaps its fingers, it's impossible not to hum along with the melody