The Raw Instruments

Originally posted 8/20/2013, original title, “Hip Lament.”

Today
supersweetened ukulele. Tonight
mere kisses on the banjo, tomorrow
untroubled unplugged guitar.

Once, the people’s music;
now it sates a lust
for a chipper soundtrack
for slighter ways of life.

These raw instruments
were once rams, crowbars,
shovels.  Once, we rocked our Jerichos
with their firm assent.

Now, they are
mostly overcooked and bent;
serve mostly to ease
hip laments.

Fuck the gentling of raw instruments.
Fuck spring in the step
and no darkness
behind melody-thin walls.

Fuck simple
and bright and easy.
Fuck a depression costume
and a plinky-cute tone.

Fuck abandonment
of the dark.
Fuck smoothing
of the rumble strip in the guts.

Fuck harmless, fuck canned,
fuck background,
fuck a soothing playlist
full of nothing;

fuck having fuck-all to say.