An untitled automatic writing piece from 2012 that I went on to recite in a Glenson Heart McBrute jam. Subsequently released on the "You Can Call Me Doctor Balls" album under the title "Another Portrait of Society" in reference to my 2006 prose.
Piece by piece
How the parts come together
Rise and take hold
What he knows she feels
Death and his maiden
The portrait looking on
Who leads the leader
Who writes the song?
Foot in hand
A clumsy dance
Struggles for resolve
Finds its way somehow -
With trepidation
A sweeping sound
And we're off
Imperfect cadence
To finish off
"Andante con moto"
Said the weathered face
What a shame I thought
Of course Schubert knew what to do
Electronic glitch:
Welcome to now
Gone the aspiration of old
Still, to experience
When all's said and done
A merry old barnacle
Who sweats out fun
"Anne Frank" he'd shout mocking
A somewhat beleaguered attempt
At humour - missing a vital
Point of contention:
She only had one leg.
Does humour belong in music?
Does humour belong in comedy?
Does humour belong in geometry?
Does subjectivity belong in life?
