Last night I went out to see Infected Mushroom and Savant, it was my first time seeing either and the first I had heard Savant (who was amazing). It inspired this poem, I may still add more I may leave it here. I want to do some readings on it before deciding, but I am definitely bothered by one stanza ‘missing a line,’ but not sure what I want to add/subtract. Time till tell.
The Man Burns (2013)
Silence
In that silence you can hear a pin drop,
Like the bass dropped only moments before.
Body still thumping pulsing to ghostsounds,
That drown out the reality that surrounds.
Body becomes subwoofer, reacting to bass and sub-bass,
That falls loud enough to drown out the treble and mid-bass.
The bass that falls like a thunderclap, manna from Heaven.
The bass that plays now only for me, a mental music box.
And now, in that eternal silence… lifetimes, eons, fit into seconds.
Like a furry coat fits into a handbag on your way home,
Too overheated still to wear despite the winter’s cold chill.
All around, the silence dwells, a veil covering mouth, muted speak no evil,
Stuck on introspection, pausing for self reflection in these quiet moments.
The joint sits burning in his hand, my hand, her hand, our hands.
It burns but doesn’t go out, like the sound resounding in my head.
What I wouldn’t do for a beat that grabs my heart by the strings,
Forcing me to dance like a marionette, DJ as puppetmaster.
What I wouldn’t give for a beat that massages my neo-cortex,
Producing vortex of thought, paroxysm of emotion.
And in that silence, I see the joint drop,
Like the pin I heard a moment before,
Reminiscent of the bass, but a memory
Embers on the floor.
Well Suited For Life 