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Postby Kunga Lhadzom » Tue Jan 29, 2013 12:56 am

the rocks that rumble...silently are mine.....
earth sounds i hear...beat rolls across my room....
i scratch the beat...that's dead created time...
and weave into this solid mass...time loom...
rock is the photograph of times ruin...
continuation...clings like a disease....
and yet the living sleep inside a tomb...
entertaining themselves with memories...
winding antique clocks under christmas trees...
ignornant of flawless and timeless days...
writing diaries and painting the seas...
chiseling emotions from time stained clays...
and i pity us...if we too follow...
these blind hypocrites...
in time they wallow.....


( i wrote this when i was 16 years old)
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