Welcome, Jon Conte Jr   
[Sign Out, My Account]
  Things We're Afraid to Say: Webs of Everyday Media     
Date: Tue, 26 Dec 2006 12:00AM PDT)
From: Send an Instant Message "John French" <mosshead7@yahoo.com>  
Subject: Repeat the Sound in Joy
To: am@cnn.com
Repeat the Sound in Joy
Sometimes I forget how to go down the steps
It's so simple but my head is not there
And I feel like I'm gonna fall down
Because I'm confused about walking
I like forget how to walk
Sometimes I forget how to breathe
It's so simple
So silly really
However real to me
And it's usually because my head
Is somewhere else
Maybe with my heart
Maybe in some part of the brain which meets the soul
And when I forget how to descend the stairs
Whether the weather is cloudy or not
I can feel the stars shining brightly
Burning beyond any embers we've witnessed
And I feel like one of these stars
I feel a brilliant radiance from my solar plexus
Being for itself
I just understand
And though people may not understand me
And I often feel alone and alienated
I know there are millions upon millions of stars
And in a harmonic tone we all emit a special sound
When I take time to listen I repeat the sound in joy
This is one of those times
Christmas 2006
And I don't now why
But yet I do
I recall my father
Driving me to the airport after Christmas break
When I was attending Marquette University at the time
After living the summer in Florida with music and acid
And an array of other assorted cocktails
And how my father wanted to know why I was not
Wearing one of my sweater vests and button down shirts
And why I was wearing a flannel and jeans
And he saw it and told me I was gonna burn out -
He said he saw me as a shooing star and was concerned -
He knew if I chose rock & roll right then for a living he'd lose me -
He knew.
I know.
I hated him for a while.
And now that I made it a few years passed twenty seven
And I don't look up at the sky as much to see shooting stars
I feel just as alive and just as dead as those stars up in the sky
And I don't even have to look outside
I may be with my wife and dog under our roof
Sitting at a wooden desk at a lap top writing this to you for me
And with the chorus of stars I repeat the sound in joy
Without even whispering a word or uttering a note
Best of the Christmas Roses,
John A. Conte` Jr.
Christmas Night 2006
Back To Inbox

Poetry  By John Alan Conte`, Jr.
Copyright 2007
  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or  transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or  otherwise, without prior written permission of John Alan Conte Jr.