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Thanking the Magic of the Music Shamans I was awakened by the drumming of the Bolivian rain. I'd been travelling the world by motorcycle going on five years now. It was the middle of the night and I was strangley excited (no, not THAT way!). I had fallen asleep thinking about recent world events, my life, and specifically, how music plays such a predominant role in my psyche. I had a poem in my head and had to jump up, get lit and find a pen. I scribbled the poem down on some crumpled scraps of paper as it was all that was available. The poem is inspired by Bono, a man I not only admire for his musical artistic talents, but his humanity. Bono is one of my personal hero's. Yeah, OK, there's possibly a bit of favoritism there, with the Irish factor and all. The poem is dedicated to all those artists who's music and lyrics have touched my very soul and held my life together over the years. | |
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A Thank-You To
My Shamans You are the music that sings in my mind, In the blackness of the night, Lit only by one dim, broken lamp. The miles fly by, The earth rolling under my wheels, ...and the world keeps spinning on it's bloodstained axis. I feel cries in the darkness, and the cold of the sins of humankind, and the pain of broken bones, and the pain of broken dreams, and the broken spokes of my own sanity. The searing pains of reality numb my senses, Numb my feelings, Numb my very soul, And the blackness closes in on me. Your words are the saving grace, Your music the coming dawn, It's magic the warmth of the rising sun, Penetrating my body, and warming my very bones, warming my very soul, Taking away the aches and the pains, Like a mothers milk calming the pangs of hunger in a helpless child's belly. The white lines rolling under me, and the world, ...still spinning on it's bloodstained axis. The madness is all around, and the miles don't take me away. The madness rains down upon my being, Upon my body, Upon my face. Dripping down my cheeks like the tears from the pain. Pain from the passion for humanity's plight, and the madness of the world, The mad world spinning on it's bloodstained axis. The road is my escape, a long road, a great escape. The madness rolling under me, Around me, Awaiting my arrival. The dark spirits that try to break my soul labour endlessley to no availe. They cannot over come the power I get from you. You are the voice that speaks to my thoughts, You are the music that sings in my mind, In the blackness of the night, lit only by the moon, and one dim, broken lamp.  ....And the world keeps spinning on it's bloodstained axis. John Anthony 'Pluto' Hyland | |
