The Art of Noises : A Futurist's Manifesto

Cherry

By Ewan

Tue, 19 Jul 2022
  • 1302 reads
8 comments
 

Today the bus is heard before being seen,

as it struggles up the slope of Long Wall;

the low hum of a labouring vacuum cleaner

passes through a pair-of-leaf-blowers-phase

until it passes me: a full-blown, hadron-collider racket.

 

I imagine. Does that even make a noise?

 

Before the tick

of the first mechanical clock,

Did we work in silence,

serfing the known world

for those who owned it?

 

Hargreaves and Watt brought the noise,

engines, shuttles and looms followed,

the ratchet, the clank, the scream of machines

dying of a thirsty need for lubrication.

 

The bus and the train,

are all that remain

of that noise.

 

The art of noises

is still in the listening:

for now, before we begin

to sing the car-body electric

 

The zeros and ones

reflect the volume setting

of the new technologies;

at least we have the dynamo hum

and the insane, teeth-on-edge howl

of the bus, on a road called Long Wall.

 

 

Certificate U
Poem
Not Quite Good Enough
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by lenchenelf on

Interesting poem, these man made sounds we all live with adversley affect some with Aural hyperacuity, though lockdown was a pain, we relished the temporary silence of the local motorway, airspace and roads, heard All birdsong.

Though that's not what your poem's about :)

Enjoyed

Lena x

 

Submitted by Ewan on

I did enjoy the the silence, once it started being filled by wildlife. At the depth of the lock-down a deer was running down Jepson Road - usually a very busy thoroughfare. I hate the noise those buses make really, but when I was young, you might walk past a steel mill and hear the racket coming out of the building. The sound of work and prosperity. Computers have made everything easier, of course, but the tippety-tap of this keyboard, and the hundreds of thousands of others in call-centres, hubs and strip-lit offices is no substitute for the sounds of industry.
Yes, as I said in the summary, I'm somewhat equivocal.

Thank you very much for reading and commenting @Lena,@Di and @Jack.

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by Di_Hard on

Church and Monastery bells were a big part of Western soundscapes in earlier times, weren't they? And the Muezzzin is still important? It is interesting how as sounds and reminders of religion/ God fade so sounds of how we remade the world grow louder. But if reports of biodiversity loss are true, the natural soundscape is much diminished by our activity too, so without human noise there is less noise altogether, the questioning ear is left lonely under the sky, only the voice inside.

am with Lenchenelf about man made noise, I hate it, am happy for seagulls to be as loud as they like but someone drilling in the distance gets to me :0)

Another of your very thought provoking poems!

ps I really like the verb "serfing" made me think of them being a surf board for the artistocracy to ride on

 

Submitted by Ewan on

The Bells and The Muezzin would be interruptions in the relative silence of the pre-industrial era, striking the hour, calling to prayer or as warning if it were the case of a tocsin bell. Interesting, though, about the changing soundscape. I read up a lot on that a few years ago, so there's bound to be another poem on here influenced by it! ;-)

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by celticman on

sounds make us aware, sight makes and umakes us. 

 

Submitted by marandina on

Made me think of that conundrum about a clap in a forest. If the forest is empty and there is nobody around to hear the clap, is it a noise? Definitely a thought provoking poem. A noisy kind of Zen. Paul 

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

But some are addicted to a constant throb in headphones, or to watching constant incoming trivia on a screen — in both instances is it to cut out uncomfotable thinking, or loneliness? It can cut out those soothing sounds of nature – I would add the sound of bubbling water or waterfall, and rain.  Rhainnon

 

Submitted by catherine poarch on

I see where people's inspiration is coming from now. Great poem - I loved the bit about serfing the known world. And bringing it back to Long Wall at the end, some kind of resignation? I remember that old phrase about fire being a wonderful servant but a cruel master and maybe sound is the same.