I'm listening

a song loved that plays until you want it to stop

I ‘ll sit and listen to fingers doing black and white justice
at the beginning of the week I try not to ill
actually this is for venting…having my spill over what is or isn’t fair
while sitting… going to hold tight and not move because
I intend saving disturbance
concentration…the flow unmistakeable and quenchable yet not too full
it is in my best interest me to stay in attendance … mellow in this chair
money should tip over the jar…considering there is one…not lifting a toe
to bring me closer to the exit…I could close the place down
as long as the concert continues in tepid light…
spotlight through hither henna bulbs in a blackened room
spices air themselves from French fried bird… linger on tips it’s hard to flinch
without losing whiff of tongue-tied unplugged heaven
elated it’s the hands in control while the  melody smolders … flames instigate
music dripping from the curtains …just keep playing my behind to the seat

feeling beckoned
amidst this flair … not about leaving tonight
I’m listening

Reviews

[Glen Yumang Manese]

You capture the moment in this one...Shirlena...the ending --- seems I could translate that backwards and still have the same outcome:

feeling beckoned
amidst this flair … not about leaving tonight
I’m listening
---
I’m listening
not about leaving tonight
amidst this flair …
feeling beckoned

---

yet I like how you translate the scene in this write...

[Wuji]

I like it when I feel that I'm reading some confessional literature about your personal life, it just feels more intimate than some of your more artistic work.

I admire an author who can make me feel like I'm overhearing their conscious indecision about real emotional events and human themes.

[Sami Khalil]

We concentrate on songs and we contemplate on wrongs...Bravo