The Beat
Beat in the USA. I've seen the seasons turn, watched the moon in all its phases, bathed in light of sun and star, moved to beat of heart in mad love and desire, rounded the seven corners, wailed in angry passion of confusions and hate, ascended the mysteries of wisdom, drank black Russians to disco beats in marijuana hazes, laughed wild running down city streets in stiletto heels, gone mad in godlike convulsions.
The beat of Auld Manhattoe, serenades of sirens and subways, vertigoes of skyscrapers, beggars by deli with sad tortoise eyes, blues of falafel stands of corrugated metal steaming in summer sun, twilight jazz riff of city park boomboxes and bicycles, morning beat of fruitstands and coffee vendors, delerious neons of Times Square. Lifted and flung lightly into universes of sound, beat of being, rhythm of eternity. Walking through the town with careful step, humming.
The beat of Auld Manhattoe, serenades of sirens and subways, vertigoes of skyscrapers, beggars by deli with sad tortoise eyes, blues of falafel stands of corrugated metal steaming in summer sun, twilight jazz riff of city park boomboxes and bicycles, morning beat of fruitstands and coffee vendors, delerious neons of Times Square. Lifted and flung lightly into universes of sound, beat of being, rhythm of eternity. Walking through the town with careful step, humming.
posted by Nightprowlkitty at 7:03 PM
2 Comments:
i really like the poetic energy to your writing, every street corner or window shop feels so fast and alive. i had also been thinking how your prose is quite vintage in a way because you have a an extremely distinctive style of writing. it is not the language i use but classic american english.
i think american english is sneered upon in the UK, where subconsciously at least, it is dismissed as being inferior or diluted, robotic and homogenic.
your posts however appear vintage and culturally distinctive from my own, which was quite revealing for me. america is not the world after all, its an independent organism with a culture and beat of its own.
That's a very intersting comment, Danny. Never thought of American English that way ... except of course where Henry Higgins speaks of it in the musical "My Fair Lady," the song lyrics of "Why can't the English teach their children how to speak," which has the line "the Americans haven't spoken it in years!" Heh.
Thank you for your nice comment -- I do appreciate it and always enjoy feedback!
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