Poem: Random Radio Noise

Born perfect, dying perfectly and the life between somehow forsaking those poles of perfection.

Random Radio Noise

I have this thing about our being
perfectly constructed
A flawless wonderment delivered
without self-doubt
and running smooth
as a Timex
at the moment of our birth
And then it all begins,
this de-construction we call
growing up, as in
stop crying and grow up
we somehow take a lickin’
and keep on

But back to the original premise
and I know you love it
when I use words like premise
in poetry
But stay with me anyway
and let’s see if we can fix her up
and drive this baby home
Our brains run on electric currents
we’ve found that out
All those electrons floating
and when one considers
the consequence of that
it brings a whole new meaning
to unplugged

But that’s another issue
and what we’re talkin’ about here
is perfection
and what happens to it
and if we can get it back
'Cause maybe it’s a truth worth knowing
that it’s been there all the time
Covered, I propose by static
Those random radio noises
caused by periodic sun spots
or nervous mothers
guys at work
and the endless expectation
of everyone expecting

It’s all too much
for speeding, perfect neurons
For electrons on a path
unflawed and seamless
This wobble, this stagger
this bulge in the loop
that no one asked for
And maybe, just maybe
that’s what death is all about
A slowing down of all that
electric energy
Spinning off the clinging imperfections
until our light goes out
perfectly, once more
Poetry Collection: Broken Pieces
This poem is included in
Jim Freeman's
poetry collection
available here in print
or as an e-Book
in your favorite formats.