BEETHOVEN, por Shane Koyczan

"written and performed by the one and only Shane Koyczan a Canadian poet, wordsmith, musician, humourist, observer, story teller, and all around amazing artist"

Beethoven

Shane Koyczan

Listen
his father made a habit
out of hitting him
see
some men drink
some men yell
some men hit their children
this man did it all
because I guess all men
want their boys
to be geniuses

Beethoven

little boy living in a house where a name meant nothing

living in a house where mercy had to be earned

through each perfect note tumbling up through the roof to tickle the toes of angels

whose harps couldn’t hold half the passion that was held in

the hands of a young boy

who was hard of hearing

Beethoven
who heard his father’s anthemevery time he put finger to ivory
it was not good enough
so he played slowly not good enough
so he played softly not good enough
so he played strongly not good enough
and when he could play no more
when his fingers cramped up into the gnarled roots of tree trunks
it was not good enough

Beethoven a musician

without his most precious tool his eardrums could no longer pound out rhythms

for the symphonies playing in his mind

he couldn’t hear the audiences clapping couldn’t hear the people loving him

couldn’t hear the women in the front row whispering

Beethoven

as they let the music invade their nervous system

like an armada marching through firing cannonballs

detonating every molecule in their bodies into explosions of heavenly sensation

each note leaving track marks over every inch of their bodies

making them ache for one more hit

he was an addiction

and kings/queens it didn’t matter

the man got down on his knees for no one but amputated the legs of his piano

so he could feel the vibrations through the floor

the man got down on his knees for music

and when the orchestra played his symphonies

it was the echoes of his father’s anthem repeating itself

like a brok-broken recor-brok-broken record

it was not good enough

so they played slowly not good enough

so they played softly not good enough

so they played strongly not good enough

so they tried to mock the man make fun of the madness by mimicking the movements

holding their bows a quarter of an inch above the strings not making a sound

it was perfect

see the deaf have an intimacy with silence

it’s there in their dreams

and the musicians turned to one another

not knowing what to make of the man

trying to calculate the distance between madness and genius

realizing that Beethoven’s musical measurements

could take you to distances reaching past the towers of Babylon

turning solar systems into symbols that crashed together causing comets to collide

creating crescendos that were so loud

they shook the constellations until the stars began to fall from the sky

and it looked like the entire universe had begun to cry

distance must be an illusion

the man must be a genius

Beethoven

his thoughts moving at the speed of sound

transforming emotion

into music

and for a moment

it was like joy was a tangible thing like you could touch it

like for the first time we could watch love and hate dance together

in a waltz of such precision and beauty that we finally understood

the history wasn’t important

to know the man

all we ever had to do was

listen.