The Sound of Cameras (poem)

Up in the silver room
She's dancing in paint fumes
Captured on film
By the quiet auteur
One eye watching the lens

The sound of cameras
Rolling day into night
Recording time
Into time
Untold... now painted
Like repetition

The state of empire
Monuments rising into sky
The endless stream
Of nobodies
Who just might be
Somebody

I can never hide.... I'm so
Deeply superficial
Got pictures
Dripping on walls
I'm at war with the hall
Where the tragic comes in
Shooting.... executing
All but the last
Drop of life bleeding
Just go now
There's the.... elevator

This can.... shot full of holes
It was a great tomato
I will love you all but
Never quite trust you again

Hear this camera
Shooting folded flaps of flesh
Sewn up like Frankenstein
I feel like a dead man walking
I feel like I've
Died.... and died again

My muse has long gone
Like a ghost in an old hotel
She left in a tragic spin
Something always
Does the dreamer
In.... to nothingness

Born in the pits of a
Smoky
Steel mill town of
Dark shadows
Pierced by
Fleeting moments of
Molten red sun
Struggling to breathe
Free

A factory
For every dreamer
Who loves to hear the
Sound of cameras
Taking it all in
The sound of cameras
Rolling

Written 2007 March 31 Saturday..

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© Vincent B. Rain

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