Archive 03/26/09 - (1)

   

Organ Grinder

                              

 

Tinny notes come rattling out as fast as furious,

From his organ grinder's hurdy-gurdy,

That instrument he's relied on, all his adult days,

 

To crank out his mind's one, uncontainable tune,

Give release to the repetition his imagination requires,

To keep his spirit occupied, improvising nothing —

 

That single song expressing his aspirations, visions,

By translating his primal longings,

For the amusement of whoever throngs his street corner,

 

Endures hearing a monkey cranking away

And tosses him a coin, for a banana,

A cage where he might hang his hat, tiny vest, and cup.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                

 

03/26/09 - (1)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
       

 

 
   
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