Elan Mudrow
Smidgens
Decomposed
You’re a traveler for the sound of wings.
Its organic, magnetic, comforting flutter
Eases you, resolves you, melts you into consonance
Whose song sings the thing, that lies…. within
The rhetoric of freeways,
That stripe of sound
Dividing you into directions all around
Off-ramps, like arms,……reach…..
Fail to catch your ass into neighborhoods.
You’re yelling at deafening speeds
Echoing,……you count mileposts like seeds
Destinations are blurred and blaring
Definitions are judgments on maps……
As if the sound of your voice wraps………..around
Where you’re from.
This must be who you are
That’s why all ask the near and far
Where are you going?
It is….
…”Here”, you always say
To break the silence
You ask when you’re going to be done, done, done…?
With the stagnation of quietude…?
That very thing that mirrors you…?
You want yourself to be outside of self
A tune….. someone else can hum
The sum of mangled mum,
To patch the latch
That locks the song,
That finds the flutter,
the ripple of touch
A Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah moment
That merges the lanes…of….
The freeway that guts the city into glitter
With the sharpened knife, full of jitters
You think sound cannot be quelled
It is silence that must be felled.
Carpool lanes attempt to sort things out
Engineers search to create
Cars that do not grate
While the engine da doo ron rons.
No one can stop the transmission
Of your travel, the unravel amongst the gravel
You’re too fast to be unheard
Too certain to be burdening the rewording of
The sound you peep… so neat…it squeaks
It’s a power, an achievement
Of gaining that smidgen, that nudge, the fudge of meaning…
Modern meditation, the mediation of the autobahn Om
Rolling grooves into the sound soul syndicate of one, benumbed
Silence waits for no one
Why would it? Why should it?
It’s always there, bare.
When you think you are disabling it….
It, actuality, is disabling you,
Gabba Gabba hey
Your mouth seeks control
Shaking beyond, vibrating soul
You are in the age of yelling
Fuck listening, it’s not selling.
You’re traveling with headphones on
By the time you’re here, you’re gone
You force cracks in the sound continuum
Silence must be held to a minimum.
Then, all perception you can collect
Is understood like the Doppler Effect
Signified by unstable frequency
The flutter who always has to fly
(To the future quiet ones,
Look back to this poem with silent praise for those who had shut the fuck up before you. May the daily clash of clatter, twisters, tsunamis of the tongue, find composure in your blogosphere. Silence is not understood by the living. The dead understand it well. The universe understands it better. Looks like “we’re” outnumbered.)
Dedicated to the architect. Who, most likely, has no idea who he is, but knows the sound of his own voice.
19 Comments on “Decomposed”
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Elan Mudrow 
Ah, that’s cool!
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Ahhh, I haven’t read that one in a while. Outside is a term jazz musicians use for playing “outside” the key of the song they are playing. In a way, it’s a means of being outside oneself.
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I love the way you say ‘You want yourself to be outside of self
A tune….. someone else can hum’
I’ve always wanted to be outside myself, sometimes I feel like I’m running away from my own body.
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Elan!
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The words you chose makes your poem remarkable!
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“The tongue is but a clapper.”
– Virginia Woolf
Funny how we devise ways to block sound with other sounds. The pink noise escapism mantras. Music, the rhythm of traffic, it all happens in the silence between events. Silence as a sculptor. What a concept…
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Fascinating. 😎
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It’s true, I thought as much on first impression, finding metaphorical similarities even. I think there’s comfort in trying to understand a doo da moment, if such a thing could ever exist but then again, maybe only flutterings of a pinhead (no more!)? Lol philosophy is so intense sometimes; not meaning to break the silence but I do hope to keep everyday open to opportunity, whatever that really means for me. And that’s the point? Those questions…I saved this to read later, maybe I’ll learn the next time I write something down, I never know sometimes. I have another shout out of praise for your words, “Rolling grooves into the sound soul syndicate of one, benumbed.” Lovely visual. Thanks for this.
“But we are young, We run green.” https://youtu.be/t-2dqMaf4-w Popped on randomly and I couldn’t resist.
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Wow Elan, I love this one! “The freeway that guts the city into glitter, with the sharpened knife…” so good!
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This is a great post!! I had to reread it to understand but it was worth it!!
Amazing and wonderful writting!!
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wish i can write like you
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Silenus may hold a clue for you about sound and sacrifice.
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wow this is great. i must confess i had to read this twice to fully imagine the big picture but powerful message for sure. i especially liked how this lined up:
“This must be who you are
That’s why all ask the near and far
Where are you going?
It is….
…”Here”, you always say
To break the silence”
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Yes!!!!!!!!
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I like the hum of the tadumdumdum the “scream of consioudness”* the driving images, even the touch of the beat poets that comes into my head. Thanks.
*This is the title of a poem I writing. Well…I’m trying to write.
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whooooosh! amazing!
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This is perfection. Thank you.
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w o w. What a ride!
I think it’s the first time I’ve ever read in my head in spoken word.
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