The recording experience

While there is a resurgence in the trend of collecting vinyls recently, I have been collecting them for many years. Through the many places I have lived, from starting in Europe where I grew up, to…

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Exhilarated Augurs

Are words not much for those who might wonder
as thoughts, they sprung asunder,
little does anyone pay attention,
to the feelings that are produced
when words and thoughts mix — invoking a sensual chasm of blunder

beware, be aware — be where when I am there
you ask where, as I unzip my thoughts — not fair
intense, such a pretense, causing an intimate link of suspense
testing, is it testing, are you wondering what am I doing?

I am just working, to make it into something — does it yonder one thing
to ponder such things, to rest in that ink that flows from the inner lingerings
of my thoughts, so crude, sometimes raw while most times prude
don’t wait, would you hate on this creation that lacks sustain,
which can’t really contain, to maintain the triggering sustenance

A food for thought, what meant to start or starve some poor sap’s heart
perhaps I rejected, to cause and effect its ending — to care for the thing
that caused him to feel left in — alone was he, when I subtly stepped in
his mind breathing just leave — I want to be left alone, interesting

I asked if I could help him, though weird was he — not speaking
thoughts resting on my shoulder, cold as ice melting
as I lit another ziggy, and exhale another puff of smoke
he looks at me, with a sobbing face — could you offer me one too!

I pass one ziggy, he holds it in — I light the match
burns it indeed — we stand right there, in the cold dark night
idly waiting for the bus to come in, as the smoke of puff inhaled
he coughs, and screams “how disgusting!?” while throwing the ziggy
adjusting his throat, spitting — I look towards the man in a fit

To find his mood adjusted — I feel it did the trick, though how hard
could one puff be — I help him up, and he said something
one that I remember to this day — Thank you for listening
you’re a good friend, as he rested his head on my shoulder
crying his wees, holding him there — I took a puff again looking
back into the time I was alone and had no one to hold me in

What could have I done better, is a food for thought
but my mind was fixated, hallucinating…

Thank you so much for reading.

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