Wednesday, March 13, 2019

white noise, a poem without rhythm

white noise

a record spinning
trapped on repeat
uttering, stuttering
sputtering
requesting assistance
feigning inability
white noise without substance

da ba doooo
rhythmic interjection
the record skips
be ba da-be bop
singing, syncopating in the distance
the record slips
Ba da boom?
da da-da boom?

“This is not your song”
a voice calls back
“Find your own tune, train your voice”
the record shakes
then angrily cycling like a whirlwind
until…unintentionally…it flips
silence


scraaaaaatch-----
be da be doom? ba da boom?
the record plays
da da doom, be da boom

waiting, listening
the record ponders its beat

“Maybe, someday” the voice says “you might be able to play backup.”

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