You’re asked to recite a poem (or song lyrics) from memory — what’s the first one that comes to mind? Does it have a special meaning, or is there another reason it has stayed, intact, in your mind?
Currently on a never ending loop in my head is “Madness” by Muse…because I just listened to the song a few hours ago. As I was checking out some groceries at the store, a fresh salad in hand getting ready to meet my taste buds for the first and final time, I hummed some of the lyrics that were skipping jump rope with my syntax waves. By the time this post is published and has circulated many parts of the world, there will be another song in my head, tugging rope with the quiet switch of my brain, winning single handedly. Madness is there because I had the madness to download the song, out of a selfish need, and stick it in my phone’s digital brain, who is now at the mercy of playing the song on my request and having the electronic notes pulse through its circuit boards like electric blood. Elle Gee loves when the song is played, but the other songs currently enjoying their long time membership in my Hall of Tunes want nothing to do with the Muse hit because of its ability to knock the other songs out cold when it is played. Even the battery wants to kick the door open and leap out, tired of working it self to supply energy like a slave to Elle Gee.
The special thing about this song to me is its ability to tap into my most confined emotions, bringing up past memories of sadness and happiness. It’s very motivational. Did I mention it is absolutely awesome? It’s also very catchy and one of the many songs that my mind picks up and likes to play with for hours or even days – until something finally knocks it out of the way and claims its dominance as the “Tattered Song of the Day”. Matthew Bellamy’s shouting of lyrics at the top of his lungs near the end is what makes the song very well crafted and irresistible. I skipped choosing to recite a poem because, other than on WordPress, I don’t read or write poetry and surely reciting or memorizing one is tedious and boring and will not be catchy at all for me. They can’t skip rope like the songs that play in my head. They don’t have legs. They aren’t out there staying over at Radio’s house, reserving a seat at Spotify, saying “Pick me! Pick me!” over at iTunes, or jumping like fleas from satellite to satellite. Poems mostly stay rooted in one spot unless some literature buff decides to pull one out like an obscene body part, showing it to the world and how great it is. Poems are for quiet time listening; music is for anytime listening. I rest my case.