Today, rejecting industrial clang,
and Brahms sings to me,
jagged but straight edges, if possible,
the waste of a day, rejecting the beautiful
concept of being with the living,
no being with the flow, no moving in concert.
No, bubbling in anger coming from another world,
anger undeserved, wholly natural, anger
at everything, which is, after all, a blanket of despair.
Begging for more and more Brahms, loud,
not quite hopeless, but rich sound
battling the jagged lines.
No flow as I wallow in the stench
of my torn and rugged caverns
with the echos of atrophied harmonies.
.
stillfugue 
#1 by Hudson Howl on September 20, 2012 - 9:21 pm
I sought out some Brahms after reading. I rather enjoyed this Brahms, Piano Quartet in C minor, opus 60, third movement. Your right nothing in the world we live in comes close to this world. Imagine how far and how deep one must go to compose such music. How does one completely escape there , to turn off and tune out the inference of dirty noise?
Must be a struggle for you to listen to Brahms and then have listen and see and live in the world of hard edges -like oil and water.
#2 by Carl on October 6, 2012 - 4:10 pm
Thank you for your comment. Music is a wonderful art for taking us to another art, and Brahms is one of the best!