Heavy Metal Heaven
Slim plugs in his guitar
sets the dial on his amp
to “heavy metal”
hits an E minor seven
walks out of the room
makes a cup of coffee
drinks a cup of coffee
checks the football results
texts his brother in England:
what’s up, mate?
his brother doesn’t answer
he starts writing a novel:
The sun –
a red ball of anger on the horizon –
shouts through the brown chemical haze:
“that’s it, I’m outta here”.
Then, and only then, they hear a baby cry.
That’s all he’s got
He returns to the room
that E minor seven
is still going
but faint now
like a rustle of paper
like the distant chatter
of dead drummers
in heavy metal heaven
he picks up his guitar
hits an A minor seven
walks out of the room
starts his taxes……
taking part in Open Link Night over at dVerse
Stopdraggingthepanda 
That sounds awfully familiar.
LikeLiked by 1 person
yep..it’s an edit of a previous post, I looked at it the other day and thought there was fat in it….well spotted!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nice description of the sun: “a red ball of anger on the horizon”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Frank!
LikeLiked by 2 people
I am envious of that playing the guitar. This is my favorite part:
like a rustle of paper
like the distant chatter
of dead drummers
in heavy metal heaven
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Grace….that’s the part of the poem I’m most pleased with!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Fascinating write Jim, I love it. I can hear those cords resonating each to a fade, as life goes on. Wonderful mind you got there… 😉
…rob from Image & Verse
Lost in Azure
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks Rob, that’s very generous of you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Those notes hanging forever… love the parallel activities here that happens between the distorted notes.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Bjorn! much appreciated.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Awesome stuff dude! Does that dial go all the way to eleven?
Love this!
You always bring a smile, without being maudlin. I haven’t seen your previous version, this is perfectly paced.. FUN!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Lona! All good dials go to eleven!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Whoa! That sounds like someone is engaged in an amps race with Spinal Tap. Better get at least one of them to go to 12!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Fantastic piece, Jim. The novel says it all, the chords, the ideal background briefing. The moving plectrum writes… and we still have the photos and the taxes. I don’t know what happened to the drummers, the singers, the other band members. What is the saddest part? I don’t care.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Steve..sometimes it’s hard to determine where the chord ends and the tinnitus begins!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Hahaha. For me it’s a single continuous sweet tone. Definitely not how I played.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is so great, I love the flow on of each different activity, pulled together by the notes. I’m really curious as to what meaning was behind this when you wrote it, if any!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you much appreciated! If I wanted to be pretentious I would say that the poem is a meditation on amplification and the lifetime of a heavy metal chord! 😊
LikeLiked by 2 people