May 2020
This is the moment of the cymbal
of crescendo of hard stone
Nothing that could be carved
Only sound is possible in the waves.
Could be a carrier of
The shore must concede acquiesce
as the as the as the as the as the
Music too is pulled by the moon
echoing behind, dying in reverberations
and leaving only faint ringlet signatures.
"When I was seven there was a beach we would go to and I would wade waist deep to feel a pull on the claves where. A little tug where a man once dipped into the river. A little grab from the ocean and I felt like I swam for days before they dragged me in sea foaming at the mouth"
A string vibrating to the heart
It used to know just where we hid it
Maybe there's still ways of knowing
we've never illuminated
The shore must concede relinquish
as the as the waves as the as the waves
If there was a year for the comback of sound
it would have been...too late
The moon blocks the light of the stars
and a note fell magnetic to dreaming girls
And she let everyone know she was one
It burned her to touch unaware
that it was still moving so fast
"Three of us were climbing a cliff, drunk at night, there was an easier way up but. With each step the footholds crumbled so the last guy almost. But he clung to the side of the cliff, toes digging for roots; the drunkest had him around the shoulders. The toes slipped and the drunkest pulled him up, strongest thing I've ever seen, but he thought the guy had climbed. When we told him he pulled him up he didn't believe us, said there was enough light to see by, to see him climbing and the moon doesn't lie"
The hardest stones give off sound
when hit for their secrets
Light escapes too a bit at a time
just to tell us to relent
The heart was thought at one time
to contain our mind
Our brains should be on Valentine’s Day cards
The shore must concede surrender
as the waves as the waves as the waves
A new moon always hides
and those are the silent nights
madness always occurs in the light
Madness occurs between opposites
Hate will strike open a person in love
like seeing everything but the shadows
“There was a sculptor, said she could see it all in the stone before she began. Said she wasn’t much of an artist, all she did was find the sculpture already in the stone (I always thought she might uncover some ****** the stone had seen). They must’ve had an argument on a curve because some chips flew up and got her in the eyes. From then on, she played the violin, said it was the same thing, don’t see how though”
It wasn’t Mozart For Salieri
it was the music in the moonlight
and snow is the same it’s water without waves
That’s why at night a winters field is lonely
And sometimes a chisel won’t do
(But to enlighten) there’s been a stone
split open by the waves of sound
The ocean proves relentless
as the waves shape the shore
She never told anyone Where
she put the last fallen note
It might have been in a stone
that will never see the light
of crescendo of hard stone
Nothing that could be carved
Only sound is possible in the waves.
Could be a carrier of
The shore must concede acquiesce
as the as the as the as the as the
Music too is pulled by the moon
echoing behind, dying in reverberations
and leaving only faint ringlet signatures.
"When I was seven there was a beach we would go to and I would wade waist deep to feel a pull on the claves where. A little tug where a man once dipped into the river. A little grab from the ocean and I felt like I swam for days before they dragged me in sea foaming at the mouth"
A string vibrating to the heart
It used to know just where we hid it
Maybe there's still ways of knowing
we've never illuminated
The shore must concede relinquish
as the as the waves as the as the waves
If there was a year for the comback of sound
it would have been...too late
The moon blocks the light of the stars
and a note fell magnetic to dreaming girls
And she let everyone know she was one
It burned her to touch unaware
that it was still moving so fast
"Three of us were climbing a cliff, drunk at night, there was an easier way up but. With each step the footholds crumbled so the last guy almost. But he clung to the side of the cliff, toes digging for roots; the drunkest had him around the shoulders. The toes slipped and the drunkest pulled him up, strongest thing I've ever seen, but he thought the guy had climbed. When we told him he pulled him up he didn't believe us, said there was enough light to see by, to see him climbing and the moon doesn't lie"
The hardest stones give off sound
when hit for their secrets
Light escapes too a bit at a time
just to tell us to relent
The heart was thought at one time
to contain our mind
Our brains should be on Valentine’s Day cards
The shore must concede surrender
as the waves as the waves as the waves
A new moon always hides
and those are the silent nights
madness always occurs in the light
Madness occurs between opposites
Hate will strike open a person in love
like seeing everything but the shadows
“There was a sculptor, said she could see it all in the stone before she began. Said she wasn’t much of an artist, all she did was find the sculpture already in the stone (I always thought she might uncover some ****** the stone had seen). They must’ve had an argument on a curve because some chips flew up and got her in the eyes. From then on, she played the violin, said it was the same thing, don’t see how though”
It wasn’t Mozart For Salieri
it was the music in the moonlight
and snow is the same it’s water without waves
That’s why at night a winters field is lonely
And sometimes a chisel won’t do
(But to enlighten) there’s been a stone
split open by the waves of sound
The ocean proves relentless
as the waves shape the shore
She never told anyone Where
she put the last fallen note
It might have been in a stone
that will never see the light
