Banishing Silence
The depths of total silence are unknown,
And the paths to quietude have vanished.
As waves of man’s cacophony have grown,
Our islands of stillness have been banished.
The Earth, of course, is restive in its way;
To roar and whisper calls of life and death.
Yet on occasion there would be a day:
When mighty earthly lungs would hold their breath;
When glassy sea a hushed reserve would keep;
When restless winds would cease their reverie;
When ceaseless life would pause as though asleep;
And all creation mute and noiseless be!
Yet, instantly the moment falls apart;
As man will hiccup, sneeze, or grunt and fart.
Mick McKellar
September 2015
Noise levels seem incessantly on the rise, and the source of that clanging, tinkling, slamming, banging, rumbling, and roaring is our technology. I do not ever remember silence, as tinnitus has haunted me all my life. Many still seek peace and quiet -- relying on our technology to synthesize silence.
Mick
When all discussion is complete; when all debate has ended; when all factors have been considered - what I post here comes out of my mind...
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Wednesday, September 09, 2015
Theory of Negativity
Theory of Negativity
My family thinks that I’m negative,
That I frown, and I grimace, and I grouch;
That I am always argumentative,
And that my feral mustache seems to crouch.
My eyebrows cast a shadow o’er my face;
A gargoyle overshadowed by a tree.
Expressions happen in that hidden space,
And so, my smile is sometimes hard to see.
I seem, by nature, distant and alone,
For covert reasons, silent, and arcane.
Perhaps I’m simply surly to the bone,
Or maybe I’m distracted and in pain.
If I choose to answer with a bludgeon:
Don’t assume I’m just an old curmudgeon.
Mick McKellar
September 2015
Chronic pain and discomfort can color your life with darker hues and purple shadows. It can be difficult to convince others that your brightest flash of shimmering grace is that you continue to function, and that: “Yes, I really am smiling!”
Mick
My family thinks that I’m negative,
That I frown, and I grimace, and I grouch;
That I am always argumentative,
And that my feral mustache seems to crouch.
My eyebrows cast a shadow o’er my face;
A gargoyle overshadowed by a tree.
Expressions happen in that hidden space,
And so, my smile is sometimes hard to see.
I seem, by nature, distant and alone,
For covert reasons, silent, and arcane.
Perhaps I’m simply surly to the bone,
Or maybe I’m distracted and in pain.
If I choose to answer with a bludgeon:
Don’t assume I’m just an old curmudgeon.
Mick McKellar
September 2015
Chronic pain and discomfort can color your life with darker hues and purple shadows. It can be difficult to convince others that your brightest flash of shimmering grace is that you continue to function, and that: “Yes, I really am smiling!”
Mick
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