Peace And Freedom

I’m searching for the low thrums,
the bass twangs that remind me of
when I was a more joyous person,
the soft bongs that resonate deep in the chest,
they sound like dark chocolate, or melted butter,
or a soft piece of cheese cake
those notes that melt in your mouth and
soften your soul
soften your soul
soften your soul
it’s not often that you find the resonance
of history caught in three minutes,
the kind of resonance that ripples through
your current and past life even into the future
finding something that will catch your soul
when your hands are crippled with arthritis.

I’m searching for the top hat trips,
coursing through nascent city streets
the Gene Kelly slicked back hair
that follows the ripping of air against the face,
they fill it all up, everything resounding through the soul like a fist full of loose change or a chest full of ice,
those whipping winds that dry your eyes and
catch your breath
catch your breath
catch your breath
rarely does it come to pass that youth
flickers so quickly so as to shine consistent;
like flourescent lights,
fluctuating back and forth between
something and nothing,
yes and no,
until it is all encompassed in the freedom
of juvenile nihilism;
when the break is too near to feel.


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