deepundergroundpoetry.com
Old Saw, New Perspective
Lips were custom made
to the mouthpiece of one's horn
None other labra will fit.
To make unique noise,
for this you were born.
Your song can’t be played
with the same pitch or poise.
Unless you stand up, shoulders back,
and in confident fortissimo toot it.
We all are tuned for excellence.
Designed to harmonize together.
Universe suffers dissonance.
If one hides their music forever.
The climb to consonance begins
when one mounts that first stair
Take your seat, learn from the Master.
And one day you’ll earn that first chair.
to the mouthpiece of one's horn
None other labra will fit.
To make unique noise,
for this you were born.
Your song can’t be played
with the same pitch or poise.
Unless you stand up, shoulders back,
and in confident fortissimo toot it.
We all are tuned for excellence.
Designed to harmonize together.
Universe suffers dissonance.
If one hides their music forever.
The climb to consonance begins
when one mounts that first stair
Take your seat, learn from the Master.
And one day you’ll earn that first chair.
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