tone-deaf or color-blind?
The world is made up of sounds
that express concepts
that we pass, one to another;
and fears, deeper-rooted
than thought. And we think
with these concepts, these sounds,
to ourselves and out loud; and
we fear with them as well.
The world is made up of people
that express sounds, shared
one note across the world
rings a thousand different tales
against a thousand different contexts,
is hidden in a thousand different scores.
The world is made up of pains
expressed as sounds, and joys
expressed the same; I can hear
what you are thinking
but my ear may be to blame
for the thoughts that I receive
from your sounds.
I've been poeming a lot since ... last Friday, I think. I hit on a new voice in a few of them, and I'm trying to figure that out--but in the meantime, thoughts seem to be wanting to express themselves in this form. This is a thought, not something that's looking for publication, so it's not hidden for future re-working.
In fact, as I'm listening to some beautiful YouTube mash-ups by a person named (or calling himself) Kutiman, I'd love to create some sort of dialog out of it.
So: I hereby release the poem and its accompanying audio into the public domain; if you see some promise in either, do with them as thou wilt.
And I'd love to know what you think. :) I'm particularly unhappy with s3--I don't think it says what it needs to, but my thoughts started to falter (and my rhythm, though a part of me hopes that works ;) ). And perhaps I don't explore the metaphor (if it's really a metaphor) enough in the first two stanzas... and the fear is important, but I just touch on it (that was supposed to be the core as much as the "sounds", but it didn't go that way).