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The broken mold lies screaming with hopelessness, its purpose lost- the clay has discarded the form the artist wanted to emulate. The mistake, the fault, the glitch, warped from the copy to become an original- not as desired or required, but having a will of its own. To realise the dream, is to satisfy the itch. To wake from the dredge is the Life on the edge. The fault of finding freedom from frigidity. Spectacular views are seen when you wake from the dream and the colours scream like coffee and cream Laugh at the imagery, the cardboard cutout words strung together like sweet christmas decorations. Fall in the pool like a funny bunny cartoon. Be the sad clown for one more noisy day- and while you're at it: brush a giraffes teeth. Smile at the dreary monotony and greet the ever grey sky like a buzzy nook not.
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Jan 25, 2010
Jan 25, 2010 at 9:00 AM UTC
The Secret Chord
The broken mold lies screaming with hopelessness, its purpose lost- the clay has discarded the form the artist wanted to emulate. The mistake, the fault, the glitch, warped from the copy to become an original- not as desired or required, but having a will of its own. To realise the dream, is to satisfy the itch. To wake from the dredge is the Life on the edge. The fault of finding freedom from frigidity. Spectacular views are seen when you wake from the dream and the colours scream like coffee and cream Laugh at the imagery, the cardboard cutout words strung together like sweet christmas decorations. Fall in the pool like a funny bunny cartoon. Be the sad clown for one more noisy day- and while you're at it: brush a giraffes teeth. Smile at the dreary monotony and greet the ever grey sky like a buzzy nook not.
cry-sebastian
Written by
South African
Jan 25, 2010
Jan 25, 2010 at 9:00 AM UTC
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