Rhythm of the Day

Rhythm of the day

Great oniums thunder clouds of midnight rumble, rolling like a baseline of rhythm through the dark, deep night.

Dispensing with the first glint of the morning's colour, and the shrilled chorus of the soon-to-be sunrise of violin light.

My alarm spikes annoyances and inconvenience, interrupting the silence of some momentary and unbroken sleep.

While the remains of dreams are washed away within the shower, cleansed and disappearing through the drainage beneath my feet.

I open the door to the sound of the roaring traffic, witness the battle of wills and footsteps shuffle through the waking day.

Clenched fists, I board the bus in defiance, not always visible, a determined face, a reminder that life is underway.

Past the high rise, stripped back                                                                               knocked down, modernised                                                                                      skyline, landscaped                                                                                          communities, changing face                                                                                            Man child, Pitt bull                                                                                                            Trial bikes, the wheelie pull                                                                                              Bright smiles, right styles                                                                                                  Police cars, giving chase                                                                                                  Eyes down, phones flipped                                                                                            Read about a stranger clipped                                                                                        Algorithms, clickbait                                                                                                          Telling me the world an't great                                                                                        Right wing, Left wing                                                                                                  Arms deals, the pendulum swings                                                                                        Wars here, wars there                                                                                                  Landmines, prosthetic limbs                                                                                                Penny-pinched, food banks                                                                                                  Rich men, they're closing ranks                                                                                            Austerity governments                                                                                                        They're lying to your face                                                                                              See the Non-Doms, tax wrongs                                                                                          Politicians, same old songs                                                                                            Strings pulled, chain yanked                                                                                            Situation spun, then blanked                                                                                              X posts, fake news                                                                                                            too much information blues                                                                                                Tic Tok, phones down                                                                                                      This bus is about to stop.

I step forward into my own thoughts to face the madness, it’s like running a marathon at times I cannot keep the pace.

Distracted for the moment, I hear the sound of children’s laughter, as they are ushered through the playground password-protected school gates.

I'm trying to breathe, but I am suffocating, the information out there feels like someone else's discarded moral waste.

I fight the negativity with my own principles and core values, intrinsically measured, I try to do the right thing and in good faith.

But at times the noise its so overwhelming, and the double standards churn and knotted my stomach to decay.

Until in the distance I hear the church bells sounding, and they remind me of a more peaceful, tranquil, calming, rhythm to the day.

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The Runaway (A true story) ►

Comments

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Philip Stevens

Thu 26th Jun 2025 17:49

Don't know what's happened to the formatting. But I think it works.

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