You Begin With A Beat… You Dance[Live] For Yourself… There are times I come home, after a long day of being out, dealing with the unreasonable, dealing with the twitchy, the glitchy, the software-screwed society, There are these times that I come home – and it’s all I can do but turn up the music, …and dance like some damned fool […whose clothes apparently appear to be invisibly on fire…] There’s never an audience. (it never matters if there is an audience.) Dancing is an exercise mimicking the art of living, the art of loving, of shaping your body to sync with another beat… a beat we’re all lovingly familiar with - it’s the first beat we ever recognize, the beat of our mother’s heart… …. And although I had my performance bug bitten from the most ridiculous-circus act-break dances during a talent-show of my grade-school peers and their parents - I, gratefully, never made the, seemingly inevitable connection and conclusion. That there was this: the exhilaration that comes from my dancing and feeling alive, And there was that: these groups of eyes examining me and my every jesterous jive… I am thankful there was no clique of raving-hipsters leaning against the walls, mocking my spasmodic interpretations as a type of iconic, ironic, joke.. And I am grateful there was no panel of “Reality Show Judges”, shaking their heads at this hopeless kid, flipping and wriggling, like a little worm hopped up on Ritalin, (…he’s just thrilled to be off the hook…) I am indebted to all the people never judging what they knew was all for fun, Because they could have killed, via a slow drip of self fulfilling self destruction, at my love for one of life’s greatest interactions… ….. …There are times I come home, after an almost endless day of computers, customers, and chaos, when I can feel the tension of my wired back, winding ever tighter. These are the times that I turn out all but the strobing neon lights and turn the music up to a soothing pounding, …I give the music a moment to recharge my batteries… Then I start my dancing, and I begin my unwinding… I dance, and I unwind… I dance, and I unwind… …and there is never any applause… (…unless you count my rapidly beating heart, exclaiming: “bravo! bravo! encore! encore!”) M. L. Michael /02/28/11
you begin with a beat…
There are times I come home,
after a long day of being out, dealing with the unreasonable,
dealing with the twitchy, the glitchy, the software-screwed society,
There are these times that I come home –
and it’s all I can do but turn up the music,
…and dance like some damned fool
[…whose clothes apparently appear to be invisibly on fire…] […]
Every Breath Poetic 