Familiar Music

“When the music's over turn out the light”--Jim Morrison

Often the music is the same

a few tunes that express

this constant mood

repeated

like the stuck records of old days

that would regurgitate a single word

or phrase as many times

as possible

until the finger slaps

the needle to stop it

bad needle naughty record

except now

it's possible to have

one or more

musical moods play

until either the gun goes off

or something breaks

the concentration of the player

two songs today

repeated ad nauseum

were it possible to end

all this

the music would play

as the soul slipped

into the expanding universe

until the electric was cut

or someone found

the remnants of a final act

that can never happen

who would even call

or check to see

months perhaps

until a concern revealed

the truthful corruptions

of an evacuated head

its dessicated last thought

upon the wall

what chance

that the exploding brain

creates the written score

in blood upon the wall

of music heard

the final second

as the universe

repeats itself

this scene might play

again with theme and variations

or create

the greatest symphony

this self-possessed victim

would never write

or go unrecognized

as a musical score

by crime cleaners

in protective white suits

lost greatness destroyed

by chemical swipes

so somewhere this orchestra

that you cannot hear

plays on unknown instruments

the music

of desperate love that soars

through an audience

so suddenly come to grief

by the story of this piece

the entire house is gassed

to end the shrieks and sorrow

the flood of instant tears

that flows through the aisles

the symphony of suicide

plays

only one performance

where even the orchestra

sees the music for the first time

and despite its vast creation

five movements with a choir

no performance has ever made it

to the second movement

or passed its initial

8 bar reading

it must be difficult

to populate so depressed

an orchestra and chorus

surely someone just had a baby

got a new job

bought a few new recordings

to play over and over

over and over

over and over

Copyright © 2012 by Barry G. Wick


{{It's an unusual poem.  The question was asked if I'm alright.......and no place within the poem do I suggest that am the potential victim....it was a train of thought based upon some listening I was doing this morning...that turned into a dark, albeit morbid examination and surreal set of images....after I wrote it I was assisting mother in her bedroom and since we had no internet this AM....I had put on a large playlist that included The Doors....and the Morrison line came up...almost as if there was some sort of muse working here. I am quite alright and have NO intentions. I have much to live for...much. So I appreciate the concern....there are dark corners of my mind that must given light during creative times. They are examined and tossed away as easily as one would toss away a used tissue. NO basis in reality.   I'm quite fine. I write...I am a writer. Not famous, never likely to be famous....but one could also ask the same question of Steven King....}}