First Bronze Age Release – A Synchronized Walk

Read and share my first “single” from The Bronze Age:

A Synchronized Walk

Darryl moves his hands from his pockets
Tending to a single cigarette
Not that he would light two
But that would be fine
In an uninspired lane like this

A dull dark street
Nothing new and nothing neat

He sighs
Exhales his smoke toward the ground
Pokes his lungs
Into a flat, stupid buzz

He walks down the street
Looking at his feet
Til he notes a shadow
A shadow? What casts this shadow now, he thinks

He looks up
The cigarette falls from his lips
Each street light ahead of him has been simultaneously lit
He sees fifteen-thousand spotlights
Shining down on figures

Underneath are silhouettes
Armed with what seems to be pianos, guitars, and clarinets
And they all start playing
With a one and a two
Boo boo ba doo

What holiness now fills the town
Darryl can’t believe his ears
But they don’t care about the truth
Because they detect something deeper inside these dangling sounds

He walks up the street and each figure gets a solo
As all the bandmates take collective second fiddle
To back up their neighbor

Darryl hears the cool tempo toot of a horn giving a hoot
He hears the heartbreaking chords of a man that’s lost his loot

He hears the uplifting vocals of a blonde angel with wings
He hears how they’re humans, still straining to sing

He hears synthesizers crying for lasers
He hears five or six Eastern instruments that curry his favor

He hears a stark wailing, calling for hell
He even hears the one, who gets to toll the bell

There’s pulsing drum beats from the lands originating Man
There’s the aimless shredding of teenagers sans plans
There’s sticks striking steel
There’s so much to feel

He travels through seasons of discovery
He passes experiments with form
And technical precision
And rough around the edges
And beyond the outer limits

This continuing concert
A showcase for the indomitable spirit
The undying, unflinching commitment
To survival and revival in the face of insurmountable odds
And unforeseen dangers

The will to make it through

To be sublime despite the pain
Despite the disgrace
And misplacement on this torrid plane

He transcends into the expressions of eternity
By the end of the road
His ears won’t sit still
Then he notices a chair
That seems to be for him

The lights go down
A new instrument appears
And now he awaits the next person to show their frown
Walking alone
In need of saving through his sounds

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2 comments

  1. The melding of music with the linchpins that bind us to that unique language. Haunting yet calming.

  2. The lamentations and desires of each musician, or harbinger, should always be heeded. Very strong imagery.

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