How poor a thinker-
in our noisy times, mistaken for powerand progress, has become the world-
head loudspeaker, heart
an orchestra, bereft of even day dreaming
fed life and the leisure to listen
to one's own thoughts- sad personal success
is now measured by world din-
we must all be seen and heard
and on the air. The noise-crazy world
keeps, ever-fine tuning, its opulence
of cacophony-clang, clang, rattle, bing bang-
breathing over the origin of its genes. The access
to a noise-free world, is a ticket
for underground, where
deafness is not yet a legacy and silence
a legend.
Poetry by yoonoos peerbocus
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Written on 2024-09-09 at 13:41
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