wound nickel is drowned
in the clangor of chords
struck by silence’s worthy adversary.
machines are forced into movement
by the hooks in major, minor,
and flat, catching their gears.
forcing the to swing, to shake,
to dance! revolution,
this is revolution for the docile,
complacent masses.
shake them up, turn their heads
with a fever of cracking
voice and seizured strings.
never let it stop.
for the moment the note breaks,
apathy strikes them
uninspired.