The Conductor.

A Poem by Joshua Lean

Burdened.

My ears pick the music of strings,pulled by bleeding fingers.

The notes lift me,and I hurtle past a triumvirate of idle clouds.

Who in envy,chase after me.

With faint luck I escape and find myself amongst a troupe of vivacious fairies,fingering transdermal sunbeams,and they tell me of a man I am supposed to meet.

With unsteady pulse and cold sweat I walk towards a large gate that greets me with a nod.

I implore my feet to stay steadfast as I walk down a carpeted corridor.

There is not a sound.

And then,as if on cue,I hear the music again,but louder.

I follow.

The sound seems to come from behind a wooden door that had stories to tell and letters to post but not enough time.

It is a dead end.

Preoccupied with my own frustration,I do not see the man who walks behind me,baton in hand,he begins to gesture like a crab.

Time and time again to nothing or no one.

As I stare in awe at the magnificence of his madness,a glorious band of musicians emerge from depths of which I know not,clad in dark garments,they make music like that of Death watch beetles 'tap' tap' tap'..

Hands amok,his eyes breathe a blue fire.

The notes quicken and I see a crotchet escape from a giant trumpet.

I try to catch it but it is too fast,it flies through the window and vanishes.

I turn my attention back to the crab man,he does not return my gaze, but instead he quickens the pace,the drummers pound their drums and the harpers' harps fill my head with sounds like the sibilant laugh of rapscallions.

The walls begin to tremble,but for some reason I do not run to safety.

I sit,still and let the music circle the pit of my stomach like a hungry warthog.

The windows let out sharp curses like white lies whispering racial slurs.

They explode into little glimmering worlds and still,I sit.

Pillars prove their mettle against the other pillars as they begin to crack and break.

The crab man seems unruffled by the ensuing chaos and so does his orchestra.

I think to wake him from his apparent bewitchment but I think better of it and enjoy the cascading melodies.

I feel the music grow in my stomach and die.

Only to be reborn a yellow light that swells in my chest.

I know the sound.

It is the mollycoddling acapella that dances in the deaf man's ears,tireless as a schizophrenic seductress,swaying her hips to a dead audience.

Enticing broken stars and wandering angels.

The jingling beads around her waist like an ever-present cuckoo-clock reminding us with every minute that we belong to her and her alone.

In the time it takes forest trees to brew thoughts of glorious yonder,

The pillars collapse, giving up the building's foundations.

I watch the ceiling descend like a loose Heaven.

I know I am dead.

'Tap' tap' tap'.

© 2013 Joshua Lean

Author's Note

What do you think?

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register

Featured Review

creativequill

This was incredible, magnificent, and so intense. It's like running through a crazy nightmare, dark and chaotic, but captivating. "It is the mollycoddling acapella that dances in the deaf man's ears,tireless as a schizophrenic seductress, swaying her hips to a dead audience. Enticing broken stars and wandering angels." That was my favorite piece, it was a little chill inducing, but incredible. Wonderful job overall! Thanks for sharing!