***
unabashed next door the sound of a
gramophone at 3am, playing ‘Bird’
jazz, that chaotic seamless thread,
the bedlam of blues tunes in rewind
this old man had style, now he has
no voice box, cancer another history
croaky electronic crackles, his sound
***















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Fuselit
Mimesis
any futher suggestions, any places that were left unexplored via the old man
oh and have you noticed i used your style
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Fuselit
Mimesis
"i'm a real poet at last, gone are my days of being a wooden poet, i'm a real poet"
well perhaps given more time i will perfect this further
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"we all have a choice. It's not about the war over seas my friends. It's the war in our hearts!"
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