Al
on my acoustic TaylorI strum 'Do Right Blues' (Em)
and cry
no matter Einstein or Wittgenstein
or Frankenstein or any other
of the Stein brothers
time is a one way street
with all the consequences
that follow a powerful motor-cycle
on the wet moon asphalt
even now
(whatever that means)
by the time my hand
touches the mouse
I've forgotten why
I was reaching for it
(sexual innuendo intended)
how long I wonder
until B7 is just the dust
of the memory of a memory
no longer accessible
death...lmfao
but to live and watch yourself
fading into the mist
to an existence without definition
on my acoustic Taylor
I strum 'Do Right Blues' (Em)
and cry
Poetry by Wumbulu
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Written on 2015-04-20 at 11:31
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by Wumbulu Latest textsThe Syllogism of the MadLook Around There When Between the Posts Love Dies |
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