TRIBAL GATHERING

A tribal gathering of canvas dwelling stompers rising high
On beats and rhythms rolling,
Grinding boots into the mire.
Bass bins buzzing, bones shaking,
Eyes burning bright,
Fingers pointing shining rays
Of beaming laser light.

A whirling dervish of whirlpool hips,
Whooping vocals thrill
Inside a marquee parish
Of vinyl spinning skills
From DJs at the altar
For undulating vibes,
Pushing on the people’s pulse,
Connecting with the mind.

Their cheesy grins are spreading,
Moving through the crowd;
And heads already nodding,
They’re feeling every sound.
If the music doesn’t get you,
Then maybe nothing will.
A lifeless soul
Is best left alone
And a beating heart be still.

by KizWiz
©July 2011