Unrecommended Methods

Posted by Erik Moshe on Tuesday, May 1, 2012 Under: Rhymed Verses

A maestro of a man commands a central mass in epitaph emporium
Old dogs rarely do new tricks, unless they’re bred like Cheshire catalonians
He managed to sit up on his death cot, wounded from pelvic gash, emotionless
The threat of chemical gas in Poland had the Chechen pastors rolling in
Reaching for musical architects to wrench the past from holy men
For days with skies as gray as Dorian, he’d clench a stash of opium
To smoke away his hopelessness composing notes of bliss through everlasting story hymns
Each sound wave consenting scents of brass centurions -
His skin was a blemished mask, his eyes were Celtic black, he packed a Moorish tongue
Saved the best for last: accordions - lived only as Estonian, and just a tad Livonian
Imagine a scenic blur, where assassins were sent to a tent to stab Napoleon
If the mood didn’t leave you impressed, he was just depressed, and sad, then over it
In the world of pianists and sensory theatrics he received nothing short of prodigal respect
Harmonic apostle, he used to say that he’d let the chips of life fall with no intent
“I try to play piano as if it’s triggering a horizontal domino effect”
Authors wrote novels of his treks, but I was responsible and never left
I visited his grave, and brought flowers every week to his wife Bernadette
Known for his skill and his speedy improvisation; it truly made his life impotent
Against slight dividends, a bright simian perfecting divine instruments
Releasing secrets for preconditioning fingers to reach the key positions
Live music - no CD’s skipping, just people listening to the reaper’s uneasy hissing
I’m so evil I’m seeking prison having dreams of a savage rapist
In Appalachian cathedrals with an elastic apron to beat & batter the naked
Peeling back the basics while concealed in the gaseous basements
I'd like to think of myself as a necrophiliac with patience
Playing with the hands of a dead legend just to reenact the greatness

“Practice makes perfect… I’m dead serious… don't hate me. I did it for the love of music."

In : Rhymed Verses 

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