I Know the Man

who makes your speakers buzz
I know his bratpack magnetism, his fields, his coils
the way the home stereo explodes when he comes to drink
He’s the quiet one, only speaks when he’s thought
of something to say but he busts woofers and tweeters.
The mobile phones emit smoke when he’s in the vicinity.
Once he put his head in the bass unit
at a Who concert. Who you ask?
Yes he’s been on the run for years breaking speakers.
He can’t help it. Well, they were just finishing
“My Generation” when the whole system went mute.
The 8 foot roadies went mad. The crowd needed blood.
Blood came from his ears.
Each time the TV goes on he faints or the TV dies.
He leaves a trail of feedback and bass hum behind him.
Each time the telephone rings the earpiece melts in his head,
Molten plastic drools over the desk-edge.
He is not friendly to The Ministry of Sound for they hunt him.
Bins everywhere retire scarred, skulking,
Decibels rot him
He’s terminal.
He’s a terminator
He’s a terrorist.
He’s a friend of mine

















WP-Backgrounds Lite by InoPlugs Web Design and Juwelier Schönmann 1010 Wien