Things that sound alike

Things that sound alike

 

Volume 1: “Screaming”

 

All the firsts and all the lasts sound the same.

The frst cry of a new born infant gulping that dreadful thing she'll later fight for

and the sudden "ouch" from the first time she prickled her finger with a rose’s thorn

and the battlecries of soldiers,

and the rattle of death,

and the demented folk, out in the streets and in the grooves inside her brain, shrieking every night

and the warped wood creaking every time the old door opens

and the inadvertent scream she lets out every time she’s startled

and the wolves howling at the moon

and the bluesman's moan and his saxophone’s groan

and that gasp she muffled when she first saw the face of a stranger looking back at her through her pocket mirror

and the sob she hushed when she detected the first sign of decay

and the plaintive whining of hers when she couldn't move her dismal, sloth carcass

and her weeping when she felt her skin with her fingers and found it shriveled and appauling

and the quiver in her voice when she first beheld her hairless scalp

and the tears she swallows every time she sees the pity in the eyes of people

and the final whimper her soul will cry out when at long last she'll twist the knife

and the bitter farewell she'll l bid the world.

and Munch's painting.

They all sound the same.                      

“Aaah”  

When you're in pain.

                                               

                                                  

                    Things that sound alike

 

Volume 2:  “Crashing”

 

All the loud and heavy things sound the same.

A sledgehammer bludgeoning a grand piano,

and old mighty King Ape pounding on his chest

and guns going off

and the Ceremonial Gong that marks the time

and their angry fists against the wall

and her lifeless head against the floor

and mountains when they tumble

and dynamite exploding

and the hard wooden table getting knocked over amidst a fit of wrath

and the solemn drum beating ominously,

and the tall bookcase filled with the infinite falling and crushing her feeble ignorant existence

They all sound the same.

When they crumble.

“Bang!”

                                                    

                      Things that sound alike

 

Volume 3:  “Shattering”

 

All the precious and the mighty, they all sound the same.

Dreams,

and crystal glasses

and promises

and the bones of her forefathers

and tall walls

and steel barriers

and hourglasses

and idols with feet of clay

and the mirror with her tattered face trapped inside it

and the metal needle breaking in two,

and tight bonds.

They all sound the same,

when they break.

“Crack.”

 

                           Things that sound alike

Volume 4: “Waiting”

 

All interludes sound the same.

High heels wounding the precious hardwood more and more, every minute of excruciating anticipation, 

and Misfortune when it knocks on the door uninvited

and the rapping of the rain that drops on the floor, sneaking through that hole on the roof

and the tapping of the sneaky messenger’s hand on a nervous shoulder

and applause!

And a hard slap on a thick skinned face

and her pens falling one by one on the floor

and restless fingers running out of patience

and clocks

and watches

and hail

and time growing scarcer.

They all sound the same.

Right before the end.

“Tick-Tock.”

 

                    Things that sound alike

 

Volume 5:  “Silence”

 

All the things that never be sound the same.

The poems and the tales of the dead

and the I “love you” she never dared to utter

and the singing of a songbirdbird perched on Beethoven’s shoulder

and the guilt she never admitted

and the remorse she never would have denied

and the forgiveness she'll never receive

and the lullaby she never got to sing

and the laughter of the child she never got to have

and the venom invading her veins

and the ugly truth

and the elephant in the room

and the protest of the mute, bent masses

and the sound of all the cash that never poured on the table

and that “I love you” she never got to hear

and all the other ones she was meant to.

They all sound the same.

When it’s all over.

“Deafening.”

                                                                                                                                        

◄ Y

Still Here ►

Comments

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Mae Foreman

Fri 22nd Feb 2019 07:05

Thanks Jon!🎈

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Jon Stainsby

Fri 22nd Feb 2019 02:25

Superb!

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Mae Foreman

Fri 28th Sep 2018 15:26

Thanks a lot! I don't really follow any rules...I just make things up as I go. I'm glad it works! 🎈

Big Sal

Fri 28th Sep 2018 14:30

Excellent!

Great how you broke the stanzas into volumes. The concept also encourages insight and thoughtful discussion.

The last stanza itself tethers the rest of the piece to its existence and power.
👍🌷

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