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also as promised Adroit Theory Manifesto
There used to be music.
Beats that soothed the savage beast.
Defiant intervals. Sings of life.
The music was murdered.
Smothered in conformity.
Choked in Greed.
Commerce was the new score.
Utility the conductor.
Sure there were headphones.
Everybody wore them.
But it was to keep the music out.
Suburban streets are silent now.
Haunted houses: rows of Grey drones
standing at blind attention.
Solemn sedans: unmarked hearses.
Off to the Office.
The market. The grave.
No Music. Except.
There are a few. Those who hear the
throbbing in their heads. The ragged
rhythm of their breathing.
The pulse in the void.
It’s getting louder.
Caged in their ribs is a rattle.
A Hum. Listen.
A scream? A song?