a new poem

sound tracks back
rewind fast
forward blasts
my soul is interrogated by the sounds
deliquent freedom flutters past
balancing on saxophone riffs
it drifts
sifts itself through me
taking the reverberation of my voice
trickery complete
by the ultimate thief - the melody
soothing, she steals the song from me
seizures seize me out of my body
experience eliminated
lost archives of lost lives
translated and misconstrued through lost time
myth made from true lives
from real to fake in the blink of an eye
synergy between elemental instruments
holding tight to all that came and went
bent, they straighten shit - recreate it
into sound symphonies
from righteous to melancholy

who does sound belong to?
Who owns the copyright?
Cause I've been makin a lot a noise and I probably owe somebody some money.

In the night I stole the silenced voice from it's cloistered existence
and I gave it my name & permission to speak
freely

inspired by local Minneapolis music makers, Electropolis
Desdamona