Spare Change
The needle skips the Beat traps the groove Trips the needle Disrupts the beat The beat I'm beat How long is this song? Relentless rhythm Of blues and brimstone Reigning chaos Playing tricks The hidden tracks No one dares play Will it ever end? Spinning thoughts Skipping circles Grasping and gnawing For a bit of spare change Is there any to give? Just enough To play a new song and Rip the record from within Change eludes even the courageous No chance for the meek The fearful and Broken What more can I give? Eternal struggle Bitter end Will a new song be sung? Where does hope live When it leaves my heart For those who truly Believe again
As I near the bottom of the stack, the words become harder to reconcile, and at times, read. It's not that they are bad—okay, some probably are—it's just that I can't relate to them. Today, I return to an old poem called Spare Change. I still like the title and the central metaphor about being stuck listening to a song that never ends. But where the poem fell apart for me was the ending about true change being available. The declaration felt fake to me, so I rewrote it to focus on the question: Will a new song be sung?
In the updated version, I wanted to explore the idea of hope in a hopeless state, but also bring in components of rhythm and repetition. I may not have the answers I once was certain of having, but the willingness to step boldly into asking powerful questions and not being destroyed by silence is something I could not have comprehended in my twenties.
Newsletter Notes:
The Deep Focus playlist on Spotify calmed my mind and lived up to the promise of its title.
The Midjourney prompt for the artwork above: skipping record player, melting records, sound wave devils, hellscape, cinematic lighting --ar 16:9.
I set "Spare Change" in the graphic above in Capstone Heavy by Jason Carne.