Least Read Poems About Guitars

6 minutes to get you to pay for my sins

Just gave you six minutes of my soul

Hold your cell phone out scream that is not enough

How do I appease while keeping sanity

Drumbeat social demeaning

Follows me when I’m not looking

I nail myself to my sins

I show you so you can say that’s not me

Millions aren’t enough to sell my soul

But I play along just to cash in

Just sold my soul I’m the mirror I look at me

You pay for my sins I give you release in me

In the details...

Notes and chords have become my second language and,
more often than not, that vocabulary expresses what I feel
when language fails me.”—Larry Burkett
 
his strings have more to say
     than his pursed lips ever did
          i sit and watch him play,
               for the talent that he hid:
                    superiorer in silence than in sound.
 
                    his fingers are his tongue,
               and his strings the orator,
          whose words are fiercely strung
     like a guileless praedator, ...