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Forum Home » High Critique » On Coltrane's "Meditations"

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9/22/2012 10:10:20 PM

Bernhard Bruhnke
Posts: 3
Love stumbles in slowly,
with a gypsy stanza of wounded shadows pouring the
faded light off a checkerboard stage...
the echoed command of the flagships golden oval banner.

An unburied mask of cymbals decorates the plum vibration
in a slender gasp..
...staring frightlessly
as the sagebrush meddles the squalling night
exploding into a ribbon of fangs

The soft piano ganders into the starving air
with a chattered glance
to the genesis of a sonic wind.

A neon breath begins to rattle over the atomic altar.

Jazz: The chaotic apparatus of a soul's bewildered chimera

A bankrupt eyed woman carrying the memory of her newly perished son screams the mad shiver of jazz.

A lazy blade hazardously gashed through the gentle cloak of innocence weeps the color of jazz.

A love scorched moon blushed in apathy sinks into the violent dawn of jazz

All of this sorrow shatters through a blistered ghost of slaughtered hymns; pushing the ache of blood through a shell of magnificent bronze that shelters the agony of jazz....

Jazz: The cold fever of death


Here lives the consequences:
a mad wave of pianos
a mad howl of golden phantoms
a mad march of chords draining the stars
a mad echo dining on the sweat of lost anguish
A mad prophet howls into a chalice of sound and burns a hollow deity into the ears of men

How consequences always shiver a typhoon of green exhales
without a wand of Serenity.

a luscious tangerine dagger
melting over the sleeping Earth.

...Flares of reverberated wings burst into the cherry drums
when the negro flames spill
As memories are raped in the drenched afterglow
of the dirty sunshine now soaking
in your broken pupils.
Letting the world
drink the tainted anguish
through the shrieks of a strangled horn.

The Father, The Son, and The Holy Ghost cry a cosmic blast of radiance.
collapsing into a continent of




This is why my eyes are a whirlpool of serpents..

This is why I wear my tongue as a sword.
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