Poems III

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Author: Vanessa Lent ( howleternal@yahoo.com )

Edmonton, June 1997
I.
We're ready for the crush
of our neighbors and their strangers,
pushed by some force to gather and cheer
and sing.
Making fools of ourselves like we normally wouldn't
dare,
because it's different now.

(THIS is how we do it now.

The silly western world with its
silly western rules.
Still in shock from a century of
reconstructive surgery.
The community of religion and politic
now shattered and stretched farther than ever,
so that the trust is now in
broken promises and half-hearted efforts
to reconcile between terms.

So here we are, now, back in a stadium,
because at least the athletes are honest about getting
rich,
and rock stars don't apologize for acting like kids.)

Rich summer winds are cool,
and rub up against the tension in the crowd.
And when the music starts
the city erupts in one voice.

It's the voice that sighs during the local news
and laughs at the weatherman
and struggles for words to the poor on the street.

THIS is trust
because this is us.
The songs are our cries,
and notes are our feelings,
and beat is our beat.
The ultimate 'This is your Life'.

Do you recognize this voice?

"I may not get there with you,
but we as a people will get to the promised land!"

Oh sure, that's an old teacher,
and those faces rushing past are departed friends
brothers
sisters.

And just when our minds are caught in the moment,
some can't help but think of the towers.

And how one day they will be gone,
and that will mean we will be gone,
because we would not just let our architecture
melt away.

But a note snags these minds back into the moment,
and the voices rise together again.
Bringing union and soul to people
parched for it.

II.
This is where he sits,
headphones in a bus,
it's the music and his mind in one world,
and everything else in another.

It's here that details come through for him,
like the texture of a chord or
color of a phrase.

And he thinks that he could be ANYWHERE.
The gas stations and convenience stores rush past
the anonymity of the scenery like a bass line.
The breath of passengers makes a rhythm,
and their expressions sing experiences.

His walk-man beats on,
it's jazz, really, because life is jazz.

III.
I start to cross a bit before the light turns,
and the person on the other side of the street does
the same.
I see his shirt is older and says Rattle and Hum,
mine is newer and says POP.
We smile and slow down,
and it's here that I see that our towers
will always stand.
Because strangers share some images
and rhythms,
and these minds will hold up the towers preserved,
long after their blueprints gather dust.

Author: Pia Lauridsen ( pialauridsen@yahoo.co.uk )

My heart is stooping
My mind is looping
This fantasy of you, get out of my head!
Because it only leads to madness
And heartbreak and sadness
But still I keep on dreaming, drifting.... 

Dreams; the menace of sobriety.

Author: Pia Lauridsen ( pialauridsen@yahoo.co.uk )

Buses go bobbing through the streets like great whales on E
I'm the bystander who says nothing who settles back
Follow this rhythm through to the dark that falls on the lights
Great vein of water flows towards absolution
And I'm left to watch, movement ruffles my clothes
Movement that seems to never cease, but merrily so
That I can't think of another place but that I would leave 

Author: Pia Lauridsen ( pialauridsen@yahoo.co.uk )

I am held by the rhythm
I am seared by the beat
I am healed by the silkysoft drumming
Humming the louder song for your ear
(she moves in mysterious ways)

Author: Pia Lauridsen ( pialauridsen@yahoo.co.uk )

Bono, Bono, Bono, Bono, Bono
I love you in stereo, video and mono
Red horns flash through the buzz of the Fly
And in his eyes I see me multiplied
The phone call from Hell turns MacPhisto around
He staggers and swaggers as one nearly drowned
PopMart is cool with lemon and all
Television screen into which I could fall
Screen images blaze, the music drags me in
And I'm taken to places I've never been
One voice, one surge, the music blasts
This moment all barriers falling fast
I love what you do when you do what you do
Who are the greatest? No doubt - it's U2!!!

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