“The Guitar”

The guitar,
Or the playing of the strings,
Is in its self a monster,
To me,
You see,
I know this thing,
For my guitar,
Has been broke for months,
Yet it begged for me,
I’d be about my day,
And it wanted to play,
I’d be doing some work,
And it began its flirt,
Where ever I have been,
Soon the guitar,
Would creep itself in,
It fallows me around,
It needs to be played,
That twelve,
Six string thing,
I say to myself,
Grow up and do away with such things,
Yet it doesn’t hesitate on calling my name,
I express the beauty of you,
It does say,
Come and play,
And hold your tongue,
Let me do the talking,
Hold me,
Stroke me,
Come have your fun,
You know I wont leave you alone,
I will call on you even in others homes,
I shall bug you until you play,
For I might be the beast,
So you say,
Many have called me a monster,
And my business is full of sharks,
Who are just waiting to take a bight at your heart,
But for you,
I am your expression,
And I’ve taught you a great lesson,
For it takes patience you see,
To be able to play with me,
And you call me a beast
Yes I call you a beast,
It is why I did cease,
And threw you across,
My living space,
For you have come,
Into the way,
Of my everything!!
You will not stop your call,
You have me in a thrall,
For you give nothing for free,
I’m the one who plays thee,
So why must you bond me so?
Can’t you let go?
For I’m thirsty for other things,
Not just to play your strings
Why heavens no,
I shall not let you be,
I shall stay with you,
To the end of thee,
For you have a lot to learn,
It is why you did thrust me as you burned,
Do not you see???
But I look for the free,
I seek after this thing,
Not you,
My twelve string,
Or some other,
Musical instrument,
Which will get in my way,
Of understanding it
Ha-ha-ha,
You actually do not see,
That I have been helping you,
And am apart of you the free,
For there are no ifs so we shall not go there,
But do you think you would be as free,
Or know freedom as clear,
If I were not here?
No should be your answer,
For I do not play,
I do nothing to you,
But sit in wait,
And when you do pick me up,
And pluck at my strings,
I’m complicated,
So I have taught you many of things,
You did not throw me across the living room you see,
Again I’m complicated,
You threw me because of the perfection thing,
You’re a perfectionist,
I’m the beast,
Because in a thousand life times,
There is no perfecting this,
Your beast,
The guitar,
There is no ups and downs,
Or easts and wests,
There is no right way,
Or wrong way,
To play,
With the beast,
I shall add,
The beast is just in your head,
So said me,
That is perfect,
In any tune,
In any room,
In any field,
You the perfectionist,
I’ve helped teach you things of this,
Patience,
For there is no mastering of me,
Expression,
For I’m the expression of thee,
Relaxation,
For I help you get out,
Those nasty,
Fears,
and doubts,
Contemplation,
For I bring you deep within yourself,
And this is why you threw me,
The beast is not me you have seen,
But lies within your heart,
I’m no beast,
For simply I’m,
The guitar,
You see…

Ryan Brady OReilly
®12/26/2001