Keyboard - Poem by Hans Preciado
When I feel the voluptuousness of the little stick
I believe what I did, I remember my old place as it was never meant to be or met.
It was the righteousness of the idea, the mad change, the Wrong.
A sick beat not to change, nor to be worse,
But for good.
Placement of the seat has been sited,
it is as if only it was a reset.
Is it met? Or was there something they’re impeding, it was only the ledge of in the very middle of the rows, not the rear.
And the idea is set-
Have you ever wondered how it is read? —
And the goal is never placed as lone, but as one
that is there for with no fear.
No less than the one that was
To be absent.
All to wonder when it went
To be sent
And to see how it all flew by
The seal of confirmation made of eight bites and electronic pulses,
All conformed of desire, of thought and curiosity from the author.
It just couldn’t just be stuck, huh?
One pixel appearing at the command of us, the poet.
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