"Instrument" by Bill Rood

Jersey City poet, Bill Rood, has a lot to write about.
The poem below talks to the reality of being a musician.
Please take a moment and read this poem.
How does it speak to you?


"Instrument"

Sign on street says, singers, songwriters, drummers, guitarists apply.

Band needs you if you've got groove, rhythm, and talent in supply.

Audition anytime. Bring your own equipment, but first drop us a line.

Bring your own equipment?

Poet ponders being your own equipment.

See, luckily I brought my brain today, didn't leave it behind

songwriter, I can rhyme a little if you've got the time

but you'll have to excuse me, I meant to pack the rhythym

and I'm hoping someone here has some with 'em

you know there’s so much to a poem so many parts to a song

I find now and then I forget to bring all the pieces along

I'm using what little I got on my mind

but if I can, just this time

borrow a little

a beat or two

one two, one two, one two two one

can the drummer spare some?

And not to worry I have the irony

like sun glasses for the blinding hypocrisy

it's all around in this day and age

packed deep within me in a ball of rage

metaphor, well, what little I could carry you see right here

and the simile is like something that works like a mirror

My tools of the trade are a little bit beaten, slightly frayed

many come second hand, some of them I made

took up space in a brain or two

got reborn, grew up, and changed a point of view.

Tools from friends and strangers, dropping words on the mike

or victims of my eves dropping, sounds from the streets and the like

there is little that's truly just mine

but please can you provide the music just this one time?

tonight I have just me, a few words, and a little rhyme.