Poem: "The Birth of Random Sound"

The Birth of Random Sound (v2)

I saw there in the face of the sun,

an outline of those things first felt

ages, when my skin was new,

was budding. Then I heard the

tinny cascade of the fountain

—went to be baptized into hardness,

Would you like to finally hear what happened that day?

I went to the voices we all hear.

~~~

Entry: Unprepared for their verity. Their

mixture of love and hate dealt undiluted

and even-handedly. Fair mercilessness.

I melted down from the inside out,

I heard their arguments as my new gospel,

I covered my eyes in shame, opened them and looked,

and then covered the eyes of my heart.

You are the eyes of my hearts lords,

I am shackled and I will not remove them,

“You don’t see, I must stay until the song ends.”

It only deepens, that is the life of this song.

Most nightmares are about relentlessness.
Such is so torturous for that pink worm to

Wrap itself around. I would say that finality

only gets more aggressive and intense.

But, it doesn't. It always does nothing.

It’s consistency is mortifying.

~~~

Everything I have is nothing to it.
The song will not accept any of my sacrifices!

“Here are my children! Here are my treasures!”
“Fine—fine, here…. Oh… here
You can have my… my hopes as well.”

Vibrates till it crystallizes air, till
It smashes density and dampening.

It obliterates me. I try to

grab something. I reach for a seed, for

a plant, for a love, for a mom, but,

I keep going towards the voices we all hear.

And I keep wanting to all the more.

slipping

frantically

mud slapping against my wrists and hands,
clawing, clawing,
I’m

slathered against fighting.

I cannot save myself;

It knows the perfect randomness.

© V. Johansen 2009

Image © V. Johansen 2008