The music made no sense

March 1, 2011

The music made no sense.
I was decaying
one lead beat at a time,
twirling downwards,
The drink in my hand
a dead weight
pulling me toward void,
in an autumn of Everything Too Soon
that I couldn’t stop.

Too old to offer a smile,
too young to matter;
nobody could break out of the mass
surrounding me.
their joy blanketed me like flowers
and they were right, right in
Everything They Assumed.
I was wrong though,
in what I was, and where I was,
like plastic tulips at a funeral,
and I saw no way out but
the bus

It beckoned – a cure for the panic of being here,
of the error
inside and out

I wanted to wring myself dry of me,
to be as pure as them,
but feared losing myself.
I was still a coward
and the fear I carried
was safe
for today,
with no direction besides that of tomorrow,
and tomorrow’s tomorrow

I stayed,
until the warmth
of being surrounded
by the movement of people
pounding a road my feet couldn’t see
repelled me beyond
the threshold
and I realised I was alone
in the crowd

I thought:
Is there a poem here?
but there wasn’t any
so I started walking
through the noise and ethanol mist,
Thinking of
and that time
when I danced like my life
depended on it

17 Responses to “The music made no sense”

  1. CatGem said

    “autumn of Everything Too Soon” — like that a lot

  2. Claudia said

    ok – see what you meant…have to come back tomorrow..too tired right now…

  3. I love this. I’ve been there, many times, in the ethanol mist, the senselessness, where there is still the faint cry within us to our own souls. Lovely, intense poem. xxJenne’

  4. Chris G. said

    As they say, sometimes a crowd can be the loneliest place…surrounded yet still alone.

    Potent, modernistic cry – I can visualize, easily, standing among the sights and the sounds, looking for an answer, looking for a way out. Potent last stanza as well – but I must say, you were clearly wrong about there being no poem there! And I’m glad to see it – the noise, the beat, the bodies all around, it clearly inspired a striking piece.

  5. plastic flowers at a funeral…so true…wring myself out of me…nice, i get that…like the end, where there is no poem there, the apparent contradiction…and may you once again dance like that…

  6. hollyheir said

    Magical Anton, you build to the walking contradictions partly truth and partly fiction and the music that you couldn’t stop drinking to while not making sense to you. I am usually at the bar watching people feel this way and think life is sometimes like television. Well written. I’m imagining you dancing right now.

  7. dustus said

    Great depth of introspection—the poet always thinking if there is a poem to be found, especially when feeling like a cipher. Strong sense of fending panic and nostalgia for unity.

  8. I love the way this reminded me of when I ‘…danced like my life depended on it..’ and I loved it 🙂 My oneshot is also a reminder to me of that ‘tribal’ belonging. Thanks for sharing.

  9. Claudia said

    lots of fantastic lines…fear of losing myself.. was my fav i think cause that feels familiar. i love how you describe the interaction between your emotions and what surrounds you – the inner world and what’s visible and how you interpret it. you’re really strong with that anton.
    on my way to zürich now for the day…business calling..

  10. Wow this is an awesome, awesome poem. A Beatnik feel, but I also felt the voice of Nick Flynn in it as well. The mood of it also reminded me of Mark Strand’s “Keeping Things Whole.” I love your voice and tone and the poem in its entirety is exceptional! I’m a fan!

  11. poemblaze said

    Excellent poem! Glad I stopped in to read!

  12. Cheryl Phipps said

    oh god, I’ve been there too. great capture of that “what am I doing here” feeling.

  13. forpuck said

    Thanks everyone, the responses for this one have been a bit overwhelming. I really appreciate it.

  14. wkkortas said

    There is, at least in my view, a very palpable sense of being out of place, of being in the purgatory of a certain age group; too old for a night on the tiles, in a sense, but too old to curl up on the couch under an blanket. The music doesn’t make sense (it isn’t your music anymore?), the beat causes decay (an unusual word choice, but one that makes perfect sense), the “void” of “an autumn of Everything Too Soon”, and these ideas are re-inforced in the tight, epigramatic first two lines of the second stanza and then contrasted nicely in the final seven lines of the piece. If the response to the piece has been overwhelming, it’s because the quality of the poem demands it.

  15. Wow-able, great-flow ‘n images work. In short, your usual excellence.

  16. Shashi said

    Is there a poem there.. and it was. A beautiful one at that … and your life depended on that dance.. I liked reading it … thanks for sharing..

    ॐ नमः शिवाय
    Om Namah Shivaya
    Twitter @VerseEveryDay

  17. wow…
    another award winning piece..
    keep it up…

    Please feel free to share 1 to 3 poems with our potluck poetry today, first time participants could use old poems or poems unrelated to our theme, Thanks..
    Happy Monday!

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