Her Bland Palate

Written by: Steve Voorhees

Echoes bouncing off the walls
 Falling on none at all
Whispers that grew screaming loud
 Not heard or understood(ever)
Frustrated and hoarse 
  I left them behind

Painting in broadest stokes I knew
  Squinted eyes made out no image clear
Furious my brush hand wouldn't have them see
  A picture made for you
   A labor of my heart
     But you squinting
        do not see

Every song I play falls on deaf ears
  The tones are foreign you say
Melodies don't speak to you Ever
 Only music playing for everyone appeals
  To you if it's contrived and catchy
    The lyrics don't resonate?
      Surely you might like
       Music that stands

If all that stimulates is minimally amusing
 The highs set to medium in an over-all low
How can I Identify?  How do I see life how you see?
  The words have no meaning? Art no beauty?
     Music no texture?  Life no color?
      If bland is your palate...we cannot be
     For this is all that I am
       You feeling connected...
                 To me means...