The woman hadn’t slept for days.
Blood-curdling screams
Crawling from under the door,
Lurking down the stairs,
Seeping into her eardrums,
Turning her stomach
At the mere thought
Of her baby in distress.
She made her way
To the nursery.
Just as the tips of her fingers
Grasped the cold shock
Of the doorknob,
A silence fell.
The woman opened the door.
A draft of icy air
Sending shivers through her skin,
Only to be swallowed
By the frozen emptiness
The nursery had wrapped around her.
The silence lingered
As she approached the crib,
Only to be broken
By the creaking of the mobile.
She reached
For her bundle of joy,
Laying peacefully in its slumber,
But her arms sank
As the blanket collapsed;
She cradled her sorrows instead.
Echoes of a peculiar sound fill my rib cage.
A sound escapes my mouth,
And my whole body goes alert,
Trying to determine
Whether there is danger.
It recognises the sound,
But not quite.
It searches through memory,
Turning over forgotten pages,
Trying to remember
What this feeling is.
I stiffen at this familiar,
Yet distant sensation.
I try to read my body language,
Hoping I'll understand.
But it is a foreign language.
Why does every fibre in me
Insist
I should recognise it?
Like it's a language
That once rolled off my tongue
Without needing translation.
But my eardrums puzzle it out.
All I hear
Is a peculiar sound
That feels borrowed.
The room fills
With its echoes.
The longer I listen,
The more I realise
Something is missing.
It sounds...
Hollow.
Like an actor
Who knows every line,
But has forgotten
How to mean them.
And then,
I recognise it.
Not because it became familiar—
But because I remembered
Who it belonged to.
It was my laughter.
So that's why
My body couldn't place it.
It had been so long
Since joy had spoken
In my own voice.
Just as powerful as a CEO is the Dj,
underdog who sends a message to you.
Sharing something you relate to sticks,
turntables and lyrics can start a chant.
Instantly a bond is created with no alibi,
crowd control that’s as lethal as arsenic
enters eardrums changing the narrative.
Yard to be stomped hard wood harmony,
each foot adds sparks to an eclectic tune.
Let the rhythm accentuate that disco ball,
labor of love sent out a ‘May we all’
inspiring the floor to move like confetti.
Neat as a pin the spiral thrown is clean,
gaining traction as the beat’s scratching.
I was going to add a long remix track to a playlist,
A playlist called ‘Waitin For the Bus in the Dark’,
But waitin for the bus in the dark is as tedious as it is -
Making a remix tedious alongside it wouldn’t make sense.
The remix is exciting now -
Anticipating excitement knocking on my eardrums as I wonder how the tune will change.
But next time,
If I play it too soon,
I’ll know.
I’ll just know.
Knowing keeps listening from being curious,
And makes it here we go again.
But “here we go again” are lyrics in an excellent song -
1973 by James Blunt.
Maybe I could add that with the remix to the playlist
And never know which will play first.
Maybe I could add so many songs
That twill be one unmemorable remix
That won’t all play in the time I’m waiting for the bus,
One unmemorable remix that Spotify can shuffle out of order.
The bus I’m waiting for now is too long away
To make it to my trans support group before it ends,
So I’ll make my way home
And bump into an old friend
Who must have started to find me tedious
Or forgotten about me,
Like a song on shuffle that barely plays,
Forgotten how good it is.
Flash, white, piercing bright
sight runs down our cheeks
Blisters boil on blackened flesh
where yellow puss now seeps
Oxygen burnt from heated air
nothing left to breath
Piles of broken smoking bones
no one left to grieve
Before the thunderous roaring sound
splits our eardrums deep
Torrents of rushing, gushing wind
fling us from our feet.
Microscopic particles
penetrate our skins
Reaching down into our souls
to cleanse away our sins
carrot muffins ready steady
eardrums cleaned of sore sounds
hymn going higher than flutes
crows listen rapt mute
Divinity appears in rain sheets on
roof, darkness lifts from the kloof
carrot muffins tray not hot
eating dreams before our time
making silly rhymes looking for dimes
hunger sensations dissolve into space
buttery carrot muffins ready steady
Divinity slides off roof, woof-woof
carrot muffins ready steady spicy
tribe garbles stories of past glories
polly put kettle on before muffins cold
tray is so g_y to begin day bold
carrot muffins not to be sold
sing the hymn before crows fly
carrot muffins tray not a hot bot
tea ready steady, scoff the muffins
remember to say thankyou to Divinity
opening front door to dance the floor
listening to high hymn with crows
singing for carrot muffin crumbs to bring
muffins ready steady carrots are good
tray not hot, my lovely rabbit or robot !
Lost in echoes of darkened time
dampened, dithering, dazed
wet withered witches mime a dime
fearful, I’m mazed or crazed
Calling Divinity, voicebox shut
eyelids glued, nostrils stuffed
lips zipped with copper thread
eardrums worrisome waned
Where are chiming confluent clocks
highways and internet ?
shadows dim whisper, “badly blocked,
pointless you bet, get set !”
Surely I paid every debt
learnt my lessons very well
trusted faith, no futile fracas
rose from every slothful rut ~
LOST, part of adventurous life
to find own lucid laws
undoing inner sceptic strife
opens all barred doors …
Enter a new Aeon
When the USA expands
Beyond just one continent
Inviting people worldwide
To come together, make a choice
Join US! Manifest Destiny Aerth!
Free the Humans! Free the mind!
"Ask, and you shall receive” ...
All the benefits of the US Constitution
Become the next Star on our Flag
Listen, music from an Aeolian harp
Touches eardrums from around the world
A new Aesthetica for Man!
It’s time to take a stand, Citizen
What do you really believe in?
It’s freedom or bust!
Let’s not fail our fellow Aerthlings
Let’s not fail ourselves
Listen, music from an Aeolian harp
Touches eardrums from around the world
A new Aesthetica for Man!
I miss you now, miss the scent of your perfume smeared all over my body, just after hugging you tight, feeling our heart signals jamming frequencies around us, miss the melting moisture your hands catches whenever I caress you fingers, I miss the slowly dying feeling of my spine when you sooths your silky soft fingers on my back, miss you now,
I miss the raging flames running in my body streams, whenever you lay your seductive libs on my neck, I mean, the drying marros in my bones, the flashing blank spots in my brain, miss the velocity of my pulse, racing so fast, distributing shivers all over my body, miss you now,
I miss the sound of your voice, as you whisper indistinct words of love in my left ear, I mean, the vibrations in your tone, as they forge their ways into my eardrums, I could sense my body ports, shutting one after the other, miss the pure reflection of me whenever you open your eyes, trapped inside those beautiful eyes, miss the warmth in your laughter, whenever I crack jokes with you, MISS YOU
Talking,
you talk too much;
Your cadence overtakes
the might of delicate eardrums;
Quiet!
Did not learn to active listen;
Trying to control me?!
Those bossy eyes,
I’m done.
In high pitch Dodo played bongo
and voiced loud in decibels,
pierced the eardrums of Drongo,
singing, ringing jingle bells
Pitter patter, patter pitter,
sings the rain upon the roof.
In attic room I hear its call,
I hear its dreary water fall.
Rumble grumble, grumble rumble,
crackles, crumbles, in my eardrums.
Fee-fie-fos revoke my sleep,
and ravage what thy labor reaped.
Sizzle sazzle, sazzle sizzle,
bolts light up the deadbeat sky.
Grey clouds linger, solemn, aching -
crying rivers, peace forsaking.
Then still the air, the air so still,
blue skies replace the dark-grey hue.
And bright the day, all worries ceasing,
gone the storm, dark retreating.
And now I know what I should do,
If e'er I'm lost in life's dark hour.
'For through the storm I must abide,
to reach the joy on the other side.'
01.02.2024
Happy New Year!
Endless fields,
I don't notice them anymore.
I drive upon a video map
of ever repeating memories.
The land is flat,
the horizon hardly changes,
mile after mile
the same white noise
scratching eardrums.
Radio on --- not listening,
though somewhere in my head
Brahms has just finished
his fourth symphony,
an empty sky sighs
in my dry mouth.
A dog is barking,
a distant farm appears
through a corn haze.
Eyes back on the road again.
the ever rolling-on road -
its hypnotic hammer beats,
occasionally switching channels
in my mind.
Advice has no use to the ‘know all’
But pride often precedes a fall
Crass indignation when questioned
Denying each truth that is mentioned
Evidence he calls refutable
Facts, he says, aren’t indisputable
Grey is the colour of dubious knowledge
Hark at the novice as he enters college
If one week of lectures makes him feel all knowing
Just grin politely at ignorance showing
Kith and kin revel in such peace and quiet
Life is so peaceful, it’s almost a riot
Motor mouth’s gone for a couple of years
No doubt he’ll grow something between his ears
Or will he just come home as bad as before
Pounding our eardrums until they are sore
Quoting past monarchs that once held dominion
Recited - ignoring conflicting opinion
So if you know someone who ‘knows more than God’
Tell him that learning’s no sprint but a plod
Utter confusion may darken his face
Vitriol, soon will take confusion’s place
“What do you know, you’re so uneducated,
X-Ray your brain; you’ll find you’re overrated.”
Yet, when it’s back off to college tomorrow
Zero shame shown when he says, “Could I borrow…..”
I rested my eyes and I heard a bell ringing
I wondered what this afternoon might be bringing
I gathered my wits and peered out through the blind
Frankly, intrigued to know what I might find
There’s children stood there and they look so unruly
I sense that they’ve all got it in for yours truly
I think to myself with a shortage of mirth
The lot of them should have been throttled at birth
That bell is still ringing, it’s donging and dinging
I’ve got a sore head and my eardrums are stinging
And would you believe that those kids are now squealing
You’re likely to find me soon… clung to the ceiling
Will somebody please silence that flaming bell
I so want a crossbow like William Tell
I feel myself shaken and then shaken faster
Then… “Lunch time is over; please wake up, Headmaster.”
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