Sweetbread

The birds I heard today, which, fortunately, did not come within the scope of my science, sang as freshly as if it had been the first morning of creation. - Thoreau

an off-the-grid, electric guitar ululated

a bass was plucked like the low-hanging, humble fruit of barry white's adam's apple

ivories giggled and squirmed as they were tickled

a resiny saxophone was nearly out of breath

trumpets pulled down their pants and shined their brass

the percussion seemed perplexed

as cymbals veered off the road and crashed whilst naughty drums of bondage were spanked

a singer chanted like a lark

and a keyboard jingled the keys of tonality, both light and dark

happiness disguised

discord chastised

history revised

everyone and everything hypnotized and mesmerized

reality marginalized and spirits elevated

cases impeccably and eloquently stated

all this in my head

whilst i sat in the park

trees spruced up in their finest bark

squirrels breakdanced

the seagulls and i nourished and fed

with a daily ration of

sweet, liberating bread

Author's Note

“Men profess to be lovers of music, but for the most part they give no evidence in their opinions and lives that they have heard it.” - Thoreau

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

I imagine you in that park with this cacophony of music in your head. What interesting and amazing sounds from all those different instruments. Some novel imagery here Pete. Made me smile.

Chris

[Pete]

thanks chris. nothing better than an outdoor concert (mine being portable) ... :)

[John the Baptist]

Sounds like a wonderful experience, almost mystical. Still, I don't like the thought of being mooned by anybody, trumpets included.

[Pete]

lol. well it is a park in a not so nice city so one must be open to all possibilities. at least i didn't tell you to kiss it. flashers need something to do too after all ... :)

[Ruth]

To truly listen...truly listen is an art :) So is to feel that music and live for it. You Pete, have a wonderfully, vibrant gift of visualisation :)

[Pete]

thank you dearest ruth.

“Music is perpetual, and only the hearing is intermittent." - Thoreau