National Poetry Month Day 13: Acoustic Guitar Guy Review (In Verse)

A back story
for ev'ry song
That tells more than it will
Of the casual loss,
And heartache behind
The falsetto resigned to never be shrill
He anchors hooks into flattering throat regions
Neck veins and biceps squeeze out their allegiance

Thus begins the tense white guy
Closed-eye bob and sway
You know that dominant 7 #9
Jazz vibe is just two chords away
Ornamenting generalities concocted in a booth
Staring tragically at a menu,
But through, like
Piss in a bed, and directly to
The waistline of who won't see him glaring
Brooding about how he can't move on
The tame bordello of his mind sparing
Nobody but
The one he claims he can't live without
Old sayings exist to give people with
Pretty voices something to sing about
The needle in his flaming pants
Would kill two birds in any bush
He's jumped enough moons to give the audience gout

Voice soars like a favorably framed dick pic
Yet soulful and thick
It coats the ears with the grace
Of cheese melted on a three legged dog
That won first place
What he lacks in any decent creation
He more than makes up for in validation