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on the fringes the outer extremes a vision of myself standing next to me is this a future destination or a song from the past? is that my final countenance I view in a dark mirror and ask? where I am now and where I want to be I detect hidden clues in my aching spleen a foreboding of what ill winds may blow a toxic brew of electric jazz jizzing in a ***** bottle aging in formaldehyde splits a mind in two poetic visions running watercolors of empty houses with more hidden clues words to songs written by me now sound funny and patently absurd loving the history form seems desirable content too but it doesn’t come together something is missing stories are embellished an ego grows larger then a house bursting open the doors exploding the roof sending the heavy slates flying in all directions flinging them into ponds of regret and lonesome longings of art offered up to a critical God ignorant of history as I see it so I lie to myself and proclaim delusional truths to others hoping they’ll listen to my ***** tales of higher knowledge intimate loves and this weeks episode of my life’s action adventure series am I an empty box or a clanging bell? ringing something of a warning about me and my emptiness as I stumble along in my cluttered apartment Music Selection: Ornette Coleman, Dancing in Your Head Oakland 1/31/99
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Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 9:59 AM UTC
The Poet I Met Last Night
on the fringes the outer extremes a vision of myself standing next to me is this a future destination or a song from the past? is that my final countenance I view in a dark mirror and ask? where I am now and where I want to be I detect hidden clues in my aching spleen a foreboding of what ill winds may blow a toxic brew of electric jazz jizzing in a ***** bottle aging in formaldehyde splits a mind in two poetic visions running watercolors of empty houses with more hidden clues words to songs written by me now sound funny and patently absurd loving the history form seems desirable content too but it doesn’t come together something is missing stories are embellished an ego grows larger then a house bursting open the doors exploding the roof sending the heavy slates flying in all directions flinging them into ponds of regret and lonesome longings of art offered up to a critical God ignorant of history as I see it so I lie to myself and proclaim delusional truths to others hoping they’ll listen to my ***** tales of higher knowledge intimate loves and this weeks episode of my life’s action adventure series am I an empty box or a clanging bell? ringing something of a warning about me and my emptiness as I stumble along in my cluttered apartment Music Selection: Ornette Coleman, Dancing in Your Head Oakland 1/31/99
james-bradley-mccallum
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Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 9:59 AM UTC
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