Posted on 11/19/2016 8:32:01 AM PST by CogitoPatriot
As the false song of globalism continues to play, the audience grows wary.
The instruments, out of tune. The notes, flat.
Played with such lackluster, how ever will they capture the hearts of man?
"Alas! The Crescendo!" the Composer discerns, waving his arms.
It's louder now, faster... He fears it his last attempt.
But what of the sound? He waves the percussion down, "too much," he screams in his head.
Though it gets louder.
"You fools!" he screams, still waving his arms-frantically now, with no touch, "You'll ruin it all!"
But he sees now, that indeed, his snare, his bass, sit motionless.
It grows louder now.
He turns.
The audience has awakened. Their eyes filled with tears, but not tears of sadness- no, its something else...
Their shoulders.... chests, broad, stern..
They've heard this sound before. They remember it. Why has it been so long?
It grows louder.
"I've done it!" the Composer exclaims, but no sound he makes can compete with the roaring ensemble that approaches.
The marching, advancing drum lines...
Of Patriots.
The instruments, out of tune. The notes, flat.
Played with such lackluster, how ever will they capture the hearts of man?
"Alas! The Crescendo!" the Composer discerns, waving his arms.
It's louder now, faster... He fears it his last attempt.
But what of the sound? He waves the percussion down, "too much," he screams in his head.
Though it gets louder.
"You fools!" he screams, still waving his arms-frantically now, with no touch, "You'll ruin it all!"
But he sees now, that indeed, his snare, his bass, sit motionless.
It grows louder now.
He turns.
The audience has awakened. Their eyes filled with tears, but not tears of sadness- no, its something else...
Their shoulders.... chests, broad, stern..
They've heard this sound before. They remember it. Why has it been so long?
It grows louder.
"I've done it!" the Composer exclaims, but no sound he makes can compete with the roaring ensemble that approaches.
The marching, advancing drum lines...
Of Patriots.
Beautiful poem. Powerful message.
My I borrow it and share it with my FB patriots?
This poem is Shostakovich’s Fifth writ large.
Bravo!
Talented son. That was beautiful. Thanks for sharing.
Copyright it.
Yes. Fill out the form and send it to the Library of Congress and get that Cosmic 'C' on it immediately.
Simply placing the © symbol on it makes it copyrighted. Filing the form makes it official.
Very good indeed.
cool!
I could feel it as I read it :)
“Well Done!” to you son and thank you for sharing it
and sticking round for something other than a vanity?
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