Vladamir Mayakovsky 1893-1930 - “Listen”

“Listen, just because the stars were turned on,
does it mean somebody needs it…“

Our city stars are hidden by the light.
We are taking no chances;
No telling what might lie hidden in the shadows.
Yet, who like me would dare to climb,
Would dare to rise above these electric currents,
Sputtering, breaking the surface of these
Murky and misleading neon seas.

I keep hoping for that rare glimpse
Of providence,
A night sky forever birthing its progeny:
Comfort, Optimism, and Hope.
This cosmic message of empathy
A poem to dispel our weakness,
Our most undignified fear of the dark.

Like children left to speculate,
Our visions would otherwise
Grow fangs and claws.

Rather we would see the moon,
Her family of stars beyond.
But no one sings of ancient constellations
Anymore.
We are too modern for this,
Too educated to care.
We have taken to creating
Our own stellar substitutes.

Yet, we tax the world to make it so
We would strain the lines
From sea to sea
Paying tribute, all the while,
To the power brokers
Who would deliver us from this
Imaginary evil.

To this,
Some speak of impending calamities,
To the failures of generators and power grids,
Or to the forsaking of the system altogether.
This industrial machination
Being both the remedy and the disease.

That’s all well and good…

But distant suns seem to be important,
Have been hanging about forever,
Since the days when those first eyes
Gazed into the skies of night
Inviting the thrill, the awe and the wonder,
Igniting our cosmic curiosity.

And where would we be now
If through a portion of our day
We would have been forced
To grope about,
Paralyzed in the absence of the stars,
In some absolute and pitiless abyss,
Praying that the predators
Would not spring from beneath our beds
Consuming us before dawn.




Michael S. True
7/22/14 last edit 8/6/14