Kvell – Attempt 1

After coming back down or shall I say up with aliveness again from hell

life was swell; I liked as well to be put under music’s spell; Me and “them” so free

with our music sprees, would have our music-chanson-show-and-tells; the chansons in the air

which yelled; which went dancin; was thee French words of Jacques Brel

And “Us” around the cyber-campfire; with an anxious way that almost perspired; had lime wire; on our minds; “we” had

what we knew about music was what we had to sell

It was music; bad to the bone; soaring; from our digital wells

It was our “ignore the flip phones”; hoarding our pocket’s bells

It was “our own”; our glorious kvells

Our laborious Dell

was our campfire; our on the ground torch; right sincerly on the back porch

which lit up;

and the ghost, __ of music radiated in the air

our amped midnight choirs; our seasons in the suns, with the lyres,

woke our sedated; never belated; allmusic rated; music need so dire.

We handled our music taste with care.

Kvell!

Our Bright Phoebus’s

Our team of us

Our Judy and the dream’s of us

redeemed us,  the “music’s mean of us”

weened us off

being afraid of each other’s Prescence

We took eachother’s music lessons.

And we began to know eachother for only just one second.

- AD

- 3/8/24

- 11:51am

- 12:26pm

Kvell