DRUMS

 

And let's all get high striking the innocent drums... (source: goodmanlivingwell)

[And let's all get high striking the innocent drums... (source: goodmanlivingwell)]

The skin stretched taut
It then speaks of things beyond it

The artist grabs it with both arms
With the force of pleading
Strikes it across the face
He begs the drum to speak
The drum speaks then loftily
As if of its own accord
As if it had a choice
It cries out in a tune too high
The tighter the skin is stretched
The greater the pain it suffers
The louder and finer the cries
With masochistic ecstasy

We then hear these cries and are happy
We put the dance to our feet
And pride ourselves like connoisseurs
Of musical sadism
A primal form of art
Of which
We are all artists
And we delight in pain
Whether when inflicted on us
And we dance in self-pity
Or sweet vengeful bitterness
Or when others around us suffer
And we gather round the table
To feast on the delicious degradation of others’ misfortunes
We express an unknown sort of disgust or shock
At some scandal
Oh the thrill we feel all the way
When we make drums of others

Even the innocent little kid is already being initiated into the art. (source: smithsonianmag.com)

 

[Even the innocent little kid is already being initiated into the art. (source: smithsonianmag.com)]

Carry your troop away
I want none of you
Don’t disturb this lonesome artist
Lounging out peacefully
On his rooftop
Where he has placed a mat
For him to lie stretched out skin-bare
Light-brown leather
Just another drum
But in the arms of a Creator
Kind and merciful unlike all these I see
And don’t you dare call me irritable
Just because I can’t dance to your sick tune.
_____________________________________________

BACKGROUND: Please, if I may very mildly say, I am not a fan of how ingeniously cruel we can be as humans when we delight in the suffering of people. Sadly, this does not exempt the seemingly nice ones at times when they have reacted in apparent horror at another’s misfortune. Meanwhile, underneath are all sorts of feelings and thoughts they would not be exactly proud of if shown clearly.
So, let none tag me along in these discussions. I’ll be sure to spoil the fun for you. Don’t worry, I won’t mind when you all turn your appetites towards the “misfit” in the comment thread, away from the true victims who need more from you than your clichéd expressions of mock shock, which seem to be ALL you would have to offer.

22 responses to “DRUMS

  1. Where are you, Doc? What ails you? Tell me.

  2. well played… like a good drum solo…

  3. Doc! you’re back. been lying around on the roof again, I see. great analogy, beating a drum, pounding the pain through our skin, and yes we all do, albeit some of us don’t wish to feel that way deep down, but still, even with our shock and sympathy and empathy, we are always just a bit glad ‘it’s not me.’ shameful, but I think it is a bit human. certainly not humane, so we don’t really deserve to be called human, but I think it harks back to a time when we were monkeys, and just glad to be alive! its the ones who visibly ‘relax’ when they hear others are hurting that you gotta watch out for!! :)

    • I am afraid I am singing same old tune -being pressed for enough time for writing.

      Hmmm…
      Hahahahaha!
      Ha! But are we not all on a spectrum with people showing different degrees of reaction; and someone you could astutely read as being relaxed may not be so to me, and vice versa.

      • oh, I heard the anger, fire in your writing, and the despair, but I love that you write, or come up with your inspiration while lying around on your roof!! I’ve climbed up on mine a few times to take sunset pic’s but damn near killed myself trying to get back down again. haha it looks easy going up!

  4. sounds like beating of the proverbial war drum, entrance the people with doublespeak propaganda to turn brother against brother, divide an conquer. reducing human beings to our lowest common denominator, an unfeeling, unconscious collective monster. good poem doc, if you decide to visit America, stay out of FEMA camps!

Even the most absurd thoughts can't ruffle this Enchanted Writer. Spill, please...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s