Tuesday, June 05, 2012

music in the park

another weeknight,
another batch of clouds,
a bucket of balls,
before the pails of rain,
worried souls,
cash crunches and tapped out hearts,
another restless night,
with panicked dreams,
of corporate cannibals,
burning out the landfills,

trying to kill the music,

a failed experiment,
of rich men in leather chairs,
hidden behind curtains of conformity,
the "opium of the masses,"
making us skeletons of fear,
screaming in lonely rooms,

but then I heard music,

and I awoke to remember,
the world is my own,
another crisis was part of the lies,
another passing storm,
another sunrise.


Old Ollie said...

oh those tapped out hearts...find the music

Anonymous said...

Another sunrise shines streams of light on another HP poem. Love the cynicism, love the rawness, the dark verse about rusty lives.

Square Corner said...

Er, Anonymous is me, Square Corner.

Juice Box said...

Music is freedom I think-- a way to escape from everything about our world that terrifies us. But only for a moment.