Thanks for the music post from Mind Loves Misery’s Menagerie. The prompt song is “Sound of Silence” by Simon and Garnfunkel. Most recently, it is noted, the band Disturbed, did a wicked version of this classic.
Hello darkness you’re my muse;
A have profound “visions” in my mind,
They’re haunting me again.
Such elusive beings, wisps of vapour transforming;
I’m not sure anyone will understand,
But I strum my guitar and I hum the tune,
A melody to haunt profoundly through the decades.
Darkness, friend or foe?
Who would know silence has a sound?
What is the sound of silence, no one ever knows?
If darkness is the place I most hide,
Where the “seeds” of this “vision” keep;
Than why do I wander “streets“with “lamps . . . stabbing,”
My eyes in the cold empty street?
How does that light touch the silence elusive,
Silent isn’t a concrete thing.
It’s not physical, so how do lights hurt silence?
How do you not notice all those “people“(thousands),
And hear their voices while they stay silent?
How do you know what they are “hearing?”
Only they know if they’re “listening;”
And the “songs“they sing in silence –silence would mean,
You couldn’t hear anything sung,
Or know the “song“they theoretically, could sing.
And if no one dares “speak,” somehow I think,
The silence still eludes them.
And if you say silence is a “cancer grow[ing];”
I’ll tell you what peace I find in it,
When “fools” they do not “speak;”
But you ring your voice, it echoes,
And you know, no one with silence is disturbed,
So your voiceless voice like “raindrops falling,”
Is silence never heard.
Can silence be heard or unheard?
A paradox, perhaps?
Are you sheep to the slaughter to this “neon god;”
And what “neon sign flashed” in “warning?”
If the “sign“was a god what did it warn,
That you were all sheep being led astray?
And who is this “prophet?”
They’re so many to speak, Elijah or Danial?
The Islamic Mohammed?
And “tenement halls” which from came “whispers,”
They’re overcrowded apartment buildings.
Apartments with small rooms, where people —
Are stuffed, having no personal space.
Even here, is there no silence which has sound?
Wouldn’t it be a dirty place, no room to move,
To breathe, to live, — to find peace?
Yet the words of said “prophet” are,
On the “subway” walls.
Means I think, the writings on the wall?
Or referring to people stuffed into trains,
And metros as cattle too?
I think in the thunderous silence,
Everyone is missing what’s coming;
And no one knows the truth or breaks the silence.
Yet a few “whispers” I detect,
Elusive for their sound;
And silence rings and breaks sound barriers,
A sound which is never heard.
But you dear listener, hear the sound profoundly clear;
And wonder yet, how silence is a sound?
“Sound of Silence” – Disturbed
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