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Category Archives: Uncategorized

Franz Ferdinand, you could have it so much better

The (international) noise conspirancy, Let’s make history

Black Mountain, Rollercoaster

Guillemots, inside

Mazzy Star, She’s my baby

The National, Mistaken for strangers

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Outlined Epitaphs

8.

Yes, I am a thief of thoughts

not, I pray, a stealer of souls

I have built an’ rebuilt

upon what is waitin’

for the sand on the beaches

carves many castles

on what has been opened

before my time

a word, a tune, a story, a line

keys in the wind t’ unlock my mind

an’ t’ grant my closet thoughts backyard air

it is not of me t’ sit an’ ponder

wonderin’ an’ wastin’ time

thinkin’ of thoughts that haven’t been thunk

thinkin’ of dreams that haven’t been dreamt

an’ new ideas that haven’t been wrote

an’ new words t’ fit into rhyme

( if it rhymes, it rhymes

if it don’t, it don’t

if it comes, it comes

if it won’t, it won’t)

 

no I must react an’ spit fast

with weapons of words

wrapped in tunes

that’ve rolled through the simple years

teasin’ me t’ treat them right

t’ reshape them an’ restring them

t’ protect my own world

from the mouths of all those

who’d eat it

[…..]

 

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me  at time

floating floating elsewhere

trying to arrive at the surface

even I take by hand a simple cause

even I beloved by stories

just stories

so funny so damned and

affections, supplies,

yellow roses pulled each others.

no ordinary place.

no ordinary ground.

so the world

is missing

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The Smiths, Rubber ring

Donald Fagen, Green flower street

Roni Size, Watching windows

Cocteau Twins, Because of Whirl-Jack

The James Taylor Quartet,Eleven thru seven

 

radio on

radio on

 

rivers

like oceans

oceans

like answers

questions

in cloud forms

raindrops

in stanzas

saul  williams

LUNAR  TERCETS

Things are not as we would have them be.

The moon is not a yellow sow

hung from a meat hook

 

on a drab shed wall : it is a moon.

Ashes do nothing

while we sleep: they are trees.

 

satellites are not boys circling the lowback chairs

and record heaps of their drunken masters: they are machines.

The broad-hipped distended from stepping in the foam

 

is not someone going to wet her legs

but no-one, phantom without live taxis.

She thinks,Ships in the night are cruel ships.

[……]

 

alberti3(alberti#3)

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