So All Alone

The noise comes through the walls
and ceilings. I'm on the bottom floor,
and so the earth is sacrosanct.
While up above, I hear the sounds
of people reaching, touching, mingling -
as I sit here, so alone. Prone to feelings
of a great depression. Wondering how
I ended up within this segregation from
the rest.

I watch TV. It makes me cry.
I used to have a life to call my own.
Bits and pieces stolen, too much gone.
Listening to old love songs
and wondering what went so wrong.
There used to be a time when I belonged.
Within the rush, the crowds, the huge
excitement of the modern way of life.

And yet within, the strife was overwhelming.
Slowly, surely stealing bits and pieces
of the energy that I once called my life.
For just a little while, I'd found a rhythm
to just rhyme within the whole. It seemed
my heart and soul had finally found
the love it needed. But now it seems
as if the tokens seeded deep within
just spin themselves into another realm
that reeks of some great modern apathy.

I looked into those other eyes and saw
it growing there. Sight and sound withdrawn
into a deeper meaning. For so many years
I'd blamed myself, for all of the misuse that
bore down on my weary soul. Yet now
I see abuse as more and more of what
the modern world calls whole. The master
beating on his slaves. The bosses always
making waves that heighten their disease.

Segregation turning black and brown into
a copper ease. Slanted into almond shapes,
the eyes told so much more of meaning
lying in the core of life's appeal.
Concrete walls once called a sublimation
kept the utter lovers far apart. Societies
that never could be free sold their poor art
as if propriety held worth. The golden touch
of Midas - only paper, yellowing.
Tin-type photographs that faded into
blurs of an incestuous world view.

For all the genius of inventions,
still there's nothing new to lead us on.
Backwaters hooked into computer lines.
Hackers stealing through our private files.
Where once a sense of privacy would thrive
as if inherent, now anywhere we are
is everywhere.

A stranger stares at us as if he knew us well.
Intentions hidden, as if time and space could
tell us his intent. When was it, that our souls
were twisted so...? Hanging on to long ago,
we grieve. Upon another planet, so it seems.
For here and now seem unsusceptible
to all the feelings that we feel.
It's all grown too unreal - too visible.
The veils rent by too much insolence.
Where once there lived an innocence
of heart and soul and mind, united.
Surely it seemed so.

Blown apart. Unable to restart.
Forges long grown cold, while all the heat
is focused in a race to beat us all to death.
Stressed out past the maximum for
minimal rewards. Yet there, within the hordes,
you hear them bragging over things - so
meaningless. A house. A car. A spouse
and kids - no more than just possessions.
As if a life were just another thing.

While sacred rhythms beat within the earth.
Vibrations of each little life of worth.
Opening into the innocence.
Loving little moments spent apart
from all the glories that start wars.
Melting into life instead of death.
Feeling, deep inside, the intermeshing
of each particle - and more.

Touching the invisible. Hearing
the unspeakable. Forgiving every
faction lived apart from all the love
our hearts would bring into existence.
Star-struck, souls have drowned
within blank rounds of popularity.
Money speaking out into their greed.
Reaching higher peaks that sink
into an utter apathy of heart.

The noise comes through the walls
and ceilings. I'm on the bottom floor,
and so the earth is sacrosanct.
While up above, I hear the sounds
of people reaching, touching, mingling -
as I sit here, so alone. Prone to feelings
of a great depression. Wondering how
I ended up within this segregation from
the rest. Is this a test..?
Then I have failed or I have passed.
What difference does it make...?
So all alone...

? Michaelette ?

8/13/2004
Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .