PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You wonder, as that disembodied, malformed

travesty of a human hand performs its arachnid

movements over the keyboard, if anything at all

could be more horrifying; as if in answer, the

music---if the shrill, shrieking sounds they are

can be called music---begins to gather, palply,

around you, like a shroud, like cerements, and

then to envelop you.  Infernal and acosmical, the

accumulating dissonances, precisely played, invade

reeling brain with impressions you can never articulate:

like geometries so alien that human thought cannot

comprehend them, or remain unshattered in their

presence.  In the same way that, now, you are

unable to move, in even the slighest way, you are,

also, unable to refuse to listen, to hear, to admit into

yourself this ghastly cacophony; unable to refuse its

surging, inevitable violation of the very integrity---

consistency---of your soul, and mind, and body; as the

intruder leaps from that clavier, to fasten itself upon

your neck; and, as your eyes begin to distend, aghast,

it throttles the very breath in your throat and

your life force sputters into expiration.  Elegy, perhaps,

some poet might have named the composition---

premiered just this once and almost as quickly

finished as silence closes now around your chilling corpse.

Starward