Kurt Cobain
To Boddah-
When all the words are worn out and turn gray
We will speak in infinite tongues of an infernal poet
Remnants written in graffiti underneath the rusted bridge,
Watching you wither in demolitions so well televised
Your magnifigant notes swelling, your grungy voice plunging
Into the canyon echoes of distortion, into feedback so
Piercing and delicate as the dried up leaves of December
Which at the best times growled analogous to those angst pawn shop guitars
Your performance amplified, until the impending end of set
The spectacular recherché of perilous extravaganza every night
By a wall of noise, by the boredom of each power chord from your hand
And from the stirring excitement of music once immersed by a sound of optimism
Hemorrhaged into the false dismal of celebrity the curtain call of betrayal
By the powder and liquid illusions, the gallons flowing across the strip
Wishing at the end that your hoarse burned out voice
would have merely whispered and disobeyed your own genius
Coming back into our world of anonymity,
we would have made an exception
patted you on the back and let you through to us again
aware that you’d become a bitter shrapnel spewing curmudgeon in old age
Instead those ovations were curtain calls to the serene Divine, the heroine
as you dived, those fingers which passed you through the crowd were needles
as abruptly as those notes ended without notice
we gained access to half a song rummaged by instruments smashed, left in a coma
each critic, every thief took a turn firing from a distance
and all you could do is line up the bullet fragments into a concept album
one lead piece for each letter of lyric - wrote out the last note
the canyons sealed up their boarders to the size of a glass crack
you were in a fish bowl, a transparent placenta trapped in a solemn vitality
shooting your way out of a misunderstanding what they call suicidal ideation
as Roma fell all we could do is watch it all burn away from the hillsides
watching others run for your wildfire shooting their way out of this world too