The Repeating of Bob Dylan

The Repeating of Bob Dylan

Watching Bob Dylan, not conforming into the system

of a cause, surfing channels between

a rock’n roll show, searching for a new lead

vocal, the voice of folk fuses itself into

the age of culture-clashing of abundance.

The fusion of tradition and unpredictability

claims to be new.

The fusion of lyrics and melody

dancing the tango of classical rhythm

in the free verse of Taoism.

And the voice of Dylan echoes like a haunting

serenade, breaking the tone in beautiful

lyrics, stabbing the establishment

that craves the mass gain of capital.

The improvisation in the syncopation

bounce like notes on a string.

Moving in the ambiguous passion,

uncertain of its circumstance,

the consequences of will conjure

the forms of it, consecrating the  texture

of its serenity to the chaotic mass.

The cliché of the old rotates in a full circle

to repeat itself again, giving new life

to the past, a fresh breath in the air.

The tone of Bob Dylan lingers

on in the syncopating mass to repeat itself again.