The Music Stops

The Music Stops;

-

The silence spoke of possibilities, 

of things that might be said, 

it spoke of wind and sawdust, 

of dreams of translucent blue,

of hellfire demons, waiting to 

                                              bite, 

-

does silence echo ? it does

                              it does, 

-

rebounding into static akashic feedback, 

the silence of chaos universe, 

billions of atoms exploding and dying, 

-

the lead head dulls sound

but the silence is loud and 

louder still, 

-

booming thunderous

around the skull, boom boom 

boom , 

-

the feedback of silence

drowns out sound of breath, 

-

Am I dead - are we - 

the barely audible hiss of

silence slithering yup my spine

invades the brain,

silence ignites the  bad 

company of the night, 

they come , without sound, 

but they come, 

the mockery of silence

is a savage, insane drummer

in my mind, 

  ssshh !

Reviews

[Eilis]

It’s amazing How unaccustomed we become to silence. The shock of it in unguarded moments becomes overwhelming. I have had those moments where I was listening to music loudly and then the cd or record was over and I didn’t get up to start the music again. There’s a strange energy about those moments. The silence comes on so quickly and there is that feedback bouncing around your head like you describe here. I thought this was a perfect portrait of a moment like that. Especially at night when the world itself feels silent and the sudden absence of sound becomes something almost mystical.

The monk would sink into that silence seeking answers. I’ve seen the monk in your poetry but also the troubled every-man trying to discern the moment in more tactile ways. I like that this can be read as an experience in going from sound to silence when one is sitting alone. The experience of recognizing silence is not the absence of noise as much as a kind of noise that feels the mind with a kind of whooshing chaotic energy. But it can also be read as something more internal and cerebral. Finding oneself in a moment where silence dominates and feeling pressed by that. A sort of psychic pain and awareness of loneliness moving to the fore. I think we’ve probably all had moments where the silence felt louder than a rushing river, and dominated by some force we couldn’t escape. Your poem articulates the states in a stirring and relatable way and puts me there in that room where I hear it blaring too. Love your poems, Gram.

[gram linski]

hey Eilis thanks for the great review, aye silence can be a noisy b*****d sometimes haha, you always see more deeply than most, I always appreciate your views,

[Chris Shaw]

Silence for some can be a blessing but for others a curse. In your poem, the latter. It can be a killer.

an insane drummer

It!s been a long while since you posted gram. Good to see you here.

Chris

[gram linski]

thanks for the review Chris, it can be a killer , aye, I appreciate it,

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I think silence actually echoes much louder than insane screams or music that hurts the ears. Silence hurts the insides, the heart, the soul.
j.

[gram linski]

thanks as always for your kind words J, much appreciated,