Strummings of Primordiality

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Strummings of Primordiality

Submitted: October 18, 2012

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Submitted: October 18, 2012

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Strumming guitars within the water,

nature calling,nature reserving,

Wood dripping,

Oh no, how tactful, little golden strings harping their way onto your flipped hair,

you’re not really there,

you’re within the buds and confines of terra herself,

gravitationally whisking you towards her great lair,

of primitive matter and why do the permeabilities scatter

lines and little pointlike circles

scrolling together forcibly,

in vibrato

what if the grasses could sing,

oh it’d be such an odd thing,

they would tremble and pitch and tune and loom,

soprano, tremolo, entropy and fright,

the grasses stroll along with everything all right,

sit down, take a chair,

watch us dance in the prima matter lair.


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