So(u)lar Song
To the light that sustains us and the light within us...
June’s full ripe lemon sun stretches an arm down through a stairway of clouds brushing down the bridge with a coat of fresh light which blesses all the Cubs and Sox fans adorned in their tribal garb. Too bad they don’t realize with real eyes that the Sox logo is really a subliminal Sex logo. And the light also blesses the homeless homies who ask the flowing crowds: “How you doin’ today? Can you help me out?” or the desperate aliens squatting at the concrete feet of the Opera House with candy they’re trying to resell. While on the river, electric boats reach out to each other to play tag as I walk along my daily sunlit path whistling… “My Name is Nobody…” A happy, bouncy, carefree Morricone soundtrack that floats my soul across the bridge in this sun-filled June of 2024. And there are so many miserable weasels burrowing in their underground tunnels who hate the sun so much they want to blot it out with chemveils, to cut off the light that feeds the engine of our hearts. One’s a computer geek who created the mind virus in his diabolical version of Revenge of the Nerds, the code that hacked humanity with fear, who covered our mouths and faces so we couldn’t speak out against his outrageous attempt at totalitarian madness, words wafted like a shuttlecock over the heads of oblivious psychophants, words of depopulation as soft as his sweaters. Too bad for you Mr. (Insta)gates, the sun in your heart was crushed out like a cigarette butt in the hand a long time ago. Meanwhile, the light of eight billion human suns vaporize the lies that bind us from above and below.
Interesting poem, I like! Lots of images come up in my mind, which is good. ^_^
Is it me, or have you been away for a long time?
Regardless, nice to see you again, and read your poem.
Awesome, I thought: A poem about one of my favorite fruits? (although curiosity on how it ripened so early).
OK, I thought: Edgar Allen Poe juxtaposition of the affluent effluent of sports fans with the Have-Nots.
Alright, I thought: ViP has a soundtrack in his mind as he navigates the channels, and bridges and thoroughfares.
Oh No!, I thought: I don't want to even think of the be-sweatered one because it leaves a stain in my mind that even bleach can't remove.
Well, that's it, then, isn't it, I thought at the thought of 8 billion mirrors all focused on darkness to obliterate it.