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rainbowfic2013-08-25 04:45 pm
ysabetwordsmith) wrote in rainbowfic2013-08-25 04:45 pm
Entry tags:
Poem: "Hear the People Sing"
Name: ysabetwordsmith
Story: An Army of One
Colors: Sunlight #3 "bacchanalian"
Styles/Supplies: None
Word Count: 446
Rating/Warnings: PG; no standard warnings apply
Summary: The people of the Lacuna have their own ways of expressing themselves, including music.
Note: An Army of One: The Autistic Secession in Space tells about some unusual people who decide to make a home for themselves between the galactic arms. This is neurovariant sociological science fiction.
"Hear the People Sing"
It began at Supply Base Bounty
when Case found a crate full of wine
in what purported to be
a shipment of medical supplies.
He notified Router
and brought a couple of bottles
to the mess room for supper.
Case and Port,
Router and Backup
all shared the wine
and got a little tipsy.
They had survived a war
and a secession.
They were entitled
to celebrate a little.
Port started singing a rowdy song
that had been old long before
men left the homeworld for space,
something about a drunken sailor
and a rusty razor and the captain's daughter.
Case and Router sang along.
Then Backup began tapping
his fork on the edge of his tin plate,
a repetitive behavior that had always
gotten him in trouble at home.
He caught himself, stilled
his hands by trapping them
hard between his knees but --
there was Router,
holding out the fork
to say, "If you want to play,
then play. You're not
any more out of tune
than the rest of us
drunken bums!"
Backup grinned,
and banged his fork
on his plate, making
music to match the rattle
of rhythm in his head.
Half bottle under his belt,
Router turned on the broadcast
and caroled, "We're havin'
a party! Anyone wanna
join in the fun?"
And they did, they did,
because they could
and now there was no one
to tell them not to sing,
not to dance at odd angles,
not to turn up the volume
so loud, not to bang
on whatever came handy,
not to
express themselves.
There was Operetta
wailing along to Castor et Pollux
and Sam the Gardener
whistling through his cupped hands,
lamenting the lack
of a blade of grass.
Estelle played improv jazz
around the music of the spheres
and Babs sang scat along with her.
The Minotaur bellowed out
an Orphic hymn in honor
of the Bacchanalian revel:
"Come, blessed Dionysos,
various-named, bull-faced,
begot from thunder,
Bakkhos famed."
Hootowl shared his favorite recordings
of classical music with its
meticulous clockwork of notes.
The OCS-397 was inspired
by Hootowl's broadcast
and responded with
an intricate instrumental piece
of technical brilliance
and aesthetic cacophany.
Specialist Miles Cernan joined in,
drumming his hands
over the ship's console,
filling in the gaps between the notes,
an effortless duet of an odd couple.
Quell replied with
John Cage's famous 4'33".
In the end it was Shakespeare
who said what they all meant,
reciting lines from an ancient musical:
"Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
who will not be slaves again!"
ysabetwordsmith Story: An Army of One
Colors: Sunlight #3 "bacchanalian"
Styles/Supplies: None
Word Count: 446
Rating/Warnings: PG; no standard warnings apply
Summary: The people of the Lacuna have their own ways of expressing themselves, including music.
Note: An Army of One: The Autistic Secession in Space tells about some unusual people who decide to make a home for themselves between the galactic arms. This is neurovariant sociological science fiction.
"Hear the People Sing"
It began at Supply Base Bounty
when Case found a crate full of wine
in what purported to be
a shipment of medical supplies.
He notified Router
and brought a couple of bottles
to the mess room for supper.
Case and Port,
Router and Backup
all shared the wine
and got a little tipsy.
They had survived a war
and a secession.
They were entitled
to celebrate a little.
Port started singing a rowdy song
that had been old long before
men left the homeworld for space,
something about a drunken sailor
and a rusty razor and the captain's daughter.
Case and Router sang along.
Then Backup began tapping
his fork on the edge of his tin plate,
a repetitive behavior that had always
gotten him in trouble at home.
He caught himself, stilled
his hands by trapping them
hard between his knees but --
there was Router,
holding out the fork
to say, "If you want to play,
then play. You're not
any more out of tune
than the rest of us
drunken bums!"
Backup grinned,
and banged his fork
on his plate, making
music to match the rattle
of rhythm in his head.
Half bottle under his belt,
Router turned on the broadcast
and caroled, "We're havin'
a party! Anyone wanna
join in the fun?"
And they did, they did,
because they could
and now there was no one
to tell them not to sing,
not to dance at odd angles,
not to turn up the volume
so loud, not to bang
on whatever came handy,
not to
express themselves.
There was Operetta
wailing along to Castor et Pollux
and Sam the Gardener
whistling through his cupped hands,
lamenting the lack
of a blade of grass.
Estelle played improv jazz
around the music of the spheres
and Babs sang scat along with her.
The Minotaur bellowed out
an Orphic hymn in honor
of the Bacchanalian revel:
"Come, blessed Dionysos,
various-named, bull-faced,
begot from thunder,
Bakkhos famed."
Hootowl shared his favorite recordings
of classical music with its
meticulous clockwork of notes.
The OCS-397 was inspired
by Hootowl's broadcast
and responded with
an intricate instrumental piece
of technical brilliance
and aesthetic cacophany.
Specialist Miles Cernan joined in,
drumming his hands
over the ship's console,
filling in the gaps between the notes,
an effortless duet of an odd couple.
Quell replied with
John Cage's famous 4'33".
In the end it was Shakespeare
who said what they all meant,
reciting lines from an ancient musical:
"Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
who will not be slaves again!"
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