Scritta da: Elisabetta Cipolli
Ravel's rave
A sour copulating
danced on a table
Basque and Apaches
echoing
in his 3/4 tempo
The masterpiecè s rhytmics
in his gimmickly ictus
That has poured pure love
in to allegro or lento.
Commenta
A sour copulating
danced on a table
Basque and Apaches
echoing
in his 3/4 tempo
The masterpiecè s rhytmics
in his gimmickly ictus
That has poured pure love
in to allegro or lento.
Concerto for flute and harp,
and in grunting piggy
he recognized a G sharp;
the Music is catchy
because of him, and superb
is loveliness in his
raspy idea. I would've loved
to have had a Cordial with
Amadeus, without gloved
hands, shaking the Sonic
Space. But I shall content my self
with an observating listenig
to Symphony # 12.
The priest
who didn't
say Mass
fleed the Altair
and wrote
The lowest Bass
Under the Cross
He found
the highest sounds
and so it was,
in those gapes,
his endless
seasonal escapes.
Take a bow
on his crecendo
when a stringed now
passes through a cello
The Art of fugue
find in me shelters
and a climbing Beauty
falls in to my senses.
I wish that there was no money's history
but more and more the History
is history of money
The Dust
should remember the origins,
the dust
should guide the future but
looking at Beethoven's picture
I understand I'm not ready
for Stravinskij
I can not listen to
soldier's tale
I wish there were no wars
to tell.
It's for the Salt
that the Tongue
has broken a Silence
on the Stones of Time.