(inspiration)my temporal lobe sings blues, ittransforms the space around me.
i create notes in sudden death for re-birth to meis just a cycle i perform when i see god.
(i have known them)
their face like flyingover the vertiginous hills of Monterserraton a cable car.
like watching white-faced europeanspatiently waiting in a huddled mass to praise,
kiss the face of the black madonna.
watching her, i wished to sit highin her robes of brilliant goldwatching earth's millennia pass by me.
i heard a sound like a saxophone
a heartbeat, moaning away while
the world gives me everything it got.
rhythms help me put pen to paper
deliver myself from
self persecution
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