Sound, the Saboteur,
Noise, the battleground,
What’s out comes quickly within
While what’s within tries vainly to rebound.
Discerning the inside,
Weighting the outside,
Contradictions ripen
So many voices to abide.
Big dreams become jammed
Judgements rigged and packed.
The haze of arguments,
A fortress stormed and sacked.
Origin becomes unclear.
The mixture does blockade.
How seek out the pristine track
To survive this raucous parade?
Hardware: suspect;
Software: many the bug;
Interior alarms are pealing;
The firewall needs a plug.
A Civil War of sound,
Generals are traitorous.
Peace is in the past
At the edge of a precipice.
Muffled in the storm’s fury,
Accents are lost in a cloud.
Meaning is beside the point
When verity is disavowed.
Faint to the beckoning call
Dialogue is too hard to stir.
Too many voices compete
Each answer becomes a blur.
39 separate steps,
Remade as Saboteur,
Plot lines are suspect
As they trick by their allure.
Facts and fiction morph
Genres don’t stick to shelf.
Sound is the Saboteur,
The Fifth Column of the self.
