Thursday, August 13, 2009

automated music

Like a blue jazz musician
I walked up to the bench
with my feet on the pedals
over ivories I hunched
And with delicate fingers
I caressed the keys
putting me in the music
tapping beat with my knee.

But the show was a lie
I took my fingers away
and the player piano
continued to play
I moved on to the cello
and started to bow
but I left it soon after
it continued to go

dehumanized and empty
completely without soul
with mechanical precision
the false music sounds out
The synthesizer killed the keyboard
and autotune killed the heart
this automated music
has torn mind and soul apart.

This musician only sets in motion
an orchestra without emotion.

(Mostly, I just thought that a song about this would make a cool music video. Opening shot, a guy at a piano playing... then he gets up and walks away and the piano keeps going... this poem... isn't that song. The song sounds different, in my head, I can't really write it.)


  1. Can I write it?

    Also, I thought this was just going to be a poem about a player piano, but it turned out to be completely different. I still like it.

  2. Feel free. It's... sort of about a player piano. But the player piano is only a symbol.