an exercise in sound

blueintheface

A warm May morning
the sky sits silent,
still.
I have just awoken
to the city
breathing,
motionless,
and easy
in the lofty spring atmosphere.

I will soon drive,
top down,
the wind
slowly unwinding,
brushing
my soft made hair.
Touch me.

Traffic slows.
Train approaching.

The train will not roll,
it will shake and quake
the town and break
the black, broken asphalt
that lies in surrender
under the train's tyranny.
Any protest that stands
will face friction and power
the have never seen.
It's velocity steamrolls as it passes my car
and the noise it emits drowns out the turned-up music I play
letting every four notes sound inbetween each wheel
hitting the unmistakable bump in the middle of the tracks.

I will see the train, in metaphor of course,
taking its steel, factory produced fist and punching and striking

blueintheface

A warm May morning
the sky sits silent,
still.
I have just awoken
to the city
breathing,
motionless,
and easy
in the lofty spring atmosphere.

I will soon drive,
top down,
the wind
slowly unwinding,
brushing
my soft made hair.
Touch me.

Traffic slows.
Train approaching.

The train will not roll,
it will shake and quake
the town and break
the black, broken asphalt
that lies in surrender
under the train's tyranny.
Any protest that stands
will face friction and power
the have never seen.
It's velocity steamrolls as it passes my car
and the noise it emits drowns out the turned-up music I play
letting every four notes sound inbetween each wheel
hitting the unmistakable bump in the middle of the tracks.

I will see the train, in metaphor of course,
taking its steel, factory produced fist and punching and striking down,
leaving no one in their safeties and all tremble in the face of its power.
And in one swoop,
like a conductors hand,
its gone,
moving into distance,
and the clean air,
gathers,
marking the return
of the gentle
air
that moves me
ever so
slightly.

justam

I like the pictures in this one.