General Writing Poetry


At the turntable, I’m the King

Record deals spinning, they deliver to my door ring

Satisfactory, I seal them as I would to my pretty doll faces

Lying down on me, they all want to feel my faculty

Undress the surface, vinyl records are well kept in my closet

The numbers keep on rising,

type G plug clutches to the socket

Million coins, like a Rain Man,

Suckers get cued to my Slipmats

While the records playing they are reeling

Extraordinary, understand it by merely a few

The gateway I broke a long ago

Truth to be told, I’m reciprocal

A line between rational and irrational

Repeating the same four beats

Mixer in force my roadmap is mechanical

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