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In the Acoustic Halls of Frequency

Contributed by skyhawk432 on Saturday, 9th June 2007 @ 02:32:41 PM in AEST
Topic: oops

A symphony cacophony
shows to tympanic membranes
everywhere the subtle approach.

Two trumpets: One with a high
dominant D mixed with the other's
recessive B; it's DNA and minor;
a warning for the people-seats.

Maestro sustains, left hand rising,
crescendo, louder, pitch slowly
panning for all to hear and taste
while audience noses sniff leather.

Many brain processes called it music,
yet little-a-few saw a train or
scarlet stains near the cargo pants,
where fellow brothers lay still.

Hand falls, lethargically, dreamily,
hypnotically, pitch lowers, decrescendo,
dieing off into a rustle of
bows

applying pressure to over 63
strings and fingerboards near their
bridges, tremolo: ghost trenches
with no-man's land.

[Contrabass: low B
Cellos: low D
Violas: low F
Second Violins: low G sharp
First Violins: high A]

The interlocking of horse-hair
combined with steel, chrome
and other various alloys made
atmosphere-tapestry born.

People's hearts were chilled,
yet such jaded minds were thin
at clear translations
on the maker's cynicism.

Yet, a little soul in the balconies,
the low class slum section,
had his heart opened with thoughts.

He saw tank assembly and split-words,
molded iron made into weapons,
muddy puddles laced with dead napalm

and ol' God with his holy angels
frowning like a stereotypical toddler
at the smiling victors near celebration.

At the end, the conditioned persons clapped
with joy, ignoring meaning for notes
while a small trinket of youth
remained silent in his seat.

Copyright © skyhawk432 ... [ 2007-06-09 14:32:41]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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