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there's no such thing as silence

though we try to escape

this unkempt world

with its busy streets,

yelling men on street corners,

random outbursts from the impoverished,

advertisements peddling

face creams and running shoes

and lotteries and fried foods,

the noise of it all,

what silence do we hope to escape to?

 

a beach with sunset?

i can hear the wind

against the trees, the splashing

of these waves before me,

the birds, they're calling their

night songs, i hear laughing in

the distance,

 

what of empty church?

i hear the echoing of my footsteps,

the creaking of aged wooden benches,

and if i concentrate,

i hear the gentle flicker

of that row of candles, the

***** rings of past hymns,

 

what of padded isolation cells?

panic rooms, artificial solitude?

cling to them like supermen

only for emergent use,

close your eyes,

let the black envelop you,

meditate, if you know how,

relax, beyond earthly possessions...

 

when that mind begins to wander,

as it does, it's mandatory,

hear that voice inside your head,

telling you to stay focused?

 

telling yourself to stay focused

only starts the spin of things:

 

and then you hear the beat

of drums, african tribal rhythms,

or phil collins at the start of

"in the air tonight"

or the strings, is that pachabel?

i hear the start of "the sound of silence"

as if my mind is mocking me,

i hear the voice of my mother,

there's my father,

they're beside me and it's christmas,

i hear nat king cole,

i hear the sound

of knife through turkey,

i hear laughter,

it's yours,

i hear the sound of my

fingers as they run along your skin

and get tangled in your hair,

i hear a heartbeat,

direct through chest, then through

bell of stethoscope, i hear

the rocko's modern life theme song,

i hear thunder, i hear rain,

i hear the splashing of my shoes,

i hear the gravel, i hear cars,

i hear the city, the random beeping

indicating when to cross,

the sound of garbage being thrown out,

of doors opening, slamming,

metal against metal,

i hear applause,

after successful landing,

i hear recycled air above me,

i hear it all,

 

everything is right here,

there's no such thing as silence,

and that shouldn't be a problem,

in fact, i think it's beautiful.

Request permission to use this poem
Written by
shawn
Canadian
Published
Mar 21, 2013
Lines·Words
76·384
Permission

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