That One Note played over and over,
longing, mournful, angry, desperate–
once or twice joyous.
War could whisper through.
And career, family, art, music.
But fleeting and peripheral because
One Note Banging
SOUND SOUND SOUND.
Now little laughters, the sun rising, our skins softly aging.
The edges of things!
where before blurry, if not imagined.
for lifting that monotonous veil of Self
to reveal the symphony beyond.
Marking life’s events by shootings,
I miss when pop stars sung about things that matter.
Didn’t Sting and Bono end apartheid and the Cold War?
Why is Peter Gabriel being so quiet?
We need your help, boys.
I think we are stuck here.
Anybody out there—could you please lend a hand?
Don’t let our stars & stripes arrogance fool you.
We are lost in a quicksand tornado eye of ignorance, fear, denial and confusion.
Our family has gotten too large to agree and lots of power is shifting.
Those who were high are low or afraid of being on their way.
Those who were low are mad and climbing out, looking up.
Don’t let our arrogance fool you.
Could you please save us from ourselves?