Infernal Wind Chimes Poem by Sonny Rainshine

Tinkle, tinkle,
BONG! tinkle, tinkle,
BONG!

I wish to God you’d not bought
those infernal wind chimes,
those gongs announcing to all that chaos
has arrived, that pandemonium is served,
her husband bemoaned
in his resounding bass.

Oh, but listen, my dear,
and you will hear, she replied,
the celestial harps of seraphim,
the symphony of the universe,
the bells, the bells,
have something to say.

Hey, it’s like tinnitus,
puncturing the tissue
in my cochlea; Bong, bing,
such a prissy little thing.

Let freedom ring, my darling.
The silvery cylinders sing
only what the wind
commands them to.
Imagine, for a moment, luv,
that I’m the wind:
You have no music in your mind,
everything to you intrudes.
I’m leaving you, ding-a-ling,
I’m sick of your moods.