Details |
Xander Martin Poem
I
See the phone towers with the lights-
Glowing lights!
What a world of mischief and sorrow their pattern foretells!
How they twinkle, twinkle, twinkle
In the icy air of night!
While the clouds that are gray
And so boring, seem to snicker
As they watch over the street known as Gay;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Philadelphian rhyme,
To the long-word-I-don't-know-what-it-means that so visually delights
From the lights, lights, lights, lights,
Lights, lights, lights-
From the flickering and the twinkling of the lights.
II
Feel the ominous Morse Code message of the lights,
Incandescent lights!
What a world of tightly packed buildings and traffic their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of midnight
How they ring out their delight!
From the creepy redden lights,
And an insight,
What a lot of lost sleep I once owed
To the white light reflected onto a certain window making it look
Like the moon!
Oh, from out the dormhouse cells,
What a gush of imprisoned restless students wanting the night to end voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! Now we face
The crushing reality that is this place
To the shining and the lining
Of the lights, lights, lights,
Of the lights, lights, lights, lights,
Lights, lights, lights-
To the electrifying coolness of the lights!
III
See the now visible sources of the lights-
Stacked lights!
What a tale of terror, now, their position tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the city,
In a fit of desperation from a phone line seeking pity,
Climbing higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor,
Now- now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the lights, lights, lights!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Urban Society!
How they flash, and spark, and repeat!
What an inconvenience they defeat
Riding the electrical current of the atmosphere with glee!
Yet the eye it fully knows,
By the pondering,
And the wandering,
How the danger ebbs and flows:
Yet the eye distinctly tells,
In each tower's tallness,
And my smallness,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the lights-
Of the lights-
Of the lights, lights, lights, lights,
Lights, lights, lights-
In the unique ability and memorability of the lights!
IV
See the final flash of the lights-
Evil Lights!
What a world of greed and lust their monotony compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy coldness of the air conditioning!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within our throats
Is a groan.
And the people- ah, the people-
They that dwell up in the buildings,
All Alone
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone-
They are neither man nor woman-
They are neither brute nor human-
They are slaves to the system:
And their Internet it is who rules;
And he pulls, pulls, pulls,
Pulls
A meme right out of his arse!
And his jolly news websites discuss human rights
With the guidance of the lights!
And he dances, and he yells;
Fighting crime, crime, crime,
In a sort of cheesy rhyme,
To the mysterious melody of the lights-
Of the lights:
Keeping geeks, geeks, geeks,
In a stupor which the Internet seeks,
To the throbbing of the lights-
Of the lights, lights, lights-
To the sobbing of the lights;
Taking in, in, in,
All the sights, sights, sights
Of this pathetic tourist trap rat-hole called Manayunk,
To the rolling of the lights-
Of the lights, lights, lights:
To the tolling of the lights,
Of the lights, lights, lights, lights-
Lights, lights, lights-
Oh, the mystery and the history of the lights.
Copyright © Xander Martin | Year Posted 2015
|