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A man gives up his life after losing faith in humanity and dreams. To keep his soul alive he settles with Satan to live off the spoils of others. He is subjected to the dull repetition of the axe against the spinning wheel, wearing down slowly, but sharpening all the while until the opportunity to clutch and bite down into his next meal arrives.
When we first met it was last Halloween. Watched the parade as it passed on the street. I caught her eye, she was looking at me. Had no reply so I started to think, 'Mona lisa, wanna meet ya. Introduction - find a reason. Looks to me like you're an angel, like a flower, muy bonita!' I looked her way and she gave me a smile. This is my day I'm thinking all of the while. She helped me up so it was easy to see. It took some time but then we started to speak. 'Glad to meet ya. Feeling so fine - you're the reason.' Close to the end as we watched the parade, we said 'goodbye' and went our separate ways. When would I get the chance to see her again? I chased her down before she got to the train. "Hey, Blessilda! Don't go home now. Night is still young. Will you stay out? Can I get to know you better? Maybe we could be together." Like a scene from a dream, I would do anything. Barely able to breathe. You put me into a spin. Find the words I wish I could tell you what I'm thinking of. The sight of you so beautiful left me in a daze of love.
Max was born in Lusk, Wyoming. He couldn't speak well or add and subtract, but he would dance like a freak anytime baroque style music caught his ears. At first he would jump up and down real hard and then run around in a circle several times. Next he'd stand up and down, staying on the very ends of his toes whenever he got into the motion. Then he'd go into a sort of spasm for a while, flailing his arms about rapidly. While this usually frightened people, the situation always remained clear that Max was not intent on hurting anyone. Finally, he would drop onto his back, kick up into the air several times, then fall flat for an hour or so.
Time wasted in the desert searching for hidden treasures or the path to resurrection. Nothing found nor lost, except for sanity perhaps. In Utah the world is brutally clear and overwhelming. Canyons are everywhere, waiting to entice curious travelers into their serpentine will. The mountains cut through the horizon at regular intervals, begging to be climbed by the fearless or, at least, ventured by the weary. The landscape changes with every few turns of the odometer and the journey is never complete because the place is so very BIG and the trappings in the desert can reduce a person to dust. Seas forgotten are hot and dry.
Schmengy was a boy who enjoyed playing baseball by himself and was taunted by the other children, especially a malajusted boy named Charlie. One day Schmengy accidentally hit Charlie with the baseball. After that incident and for all the years until they graduated from high school, Charlie made it his personal mission to harrass and embarrass Schmengy without remorse. As it turns out, Charlie eventually ended up being Schmengy's irritant employer. Obsessed on continuing the torment, pranks and insults became a daily routine until the day that Schmengy walked into work with an assault rifle and unloaded a full magazine of rounds into Charlie's windowed office. Although nobody was injured from the blast of gunfire, Charlie never fully recovered from the frightening shock and was eventually committed to a state mental facility for extensive therapy and electroshock treatment.
Although there is never enough time during the day to have all things done, don't forget to cherish the people and places that you love because you never know what tomorrow may bring.
Oh, do you hear me when I sleep tonight while you're lying there awake. Do you hear me when I'm sleeping, when I'm dreaming, when I'm screaming, when I'm bleeding, when I'm screaming in my sleep. All I know is life is a real treat if you just look around you. Life will be so sweet if you just stick around. Life will meet your needs if you just be a clown. In between the middle of your dream, of what as yet remains unseen, of what later is to be revealed. What more do you really need but more than all that's between your legs? It's all you really need to feed.
Music is the art of refractalisation.
It is capturing abstract ideas into a structure designed to provoke the senses of logic existing only in the mind. The physics are an exercise: Each note is like a brush stroke on canvas dictated tools. Music of any genre CANNOT be original and therefore should not be taken very seriously. If you don't like any of the music heard on this site it's probably because you don't want to understand it well enough and your mind is small.
© 2001 Mark Naclerio