The shame of flesh
When I lose the will to win
I find the crowd turning away with
flabby hands, slabs of flesh which
moments ago, were wringing and
pounding each other. Honor
is like an animal quartered
Now a holiday, audience in
circulation. Silence as the artists exit
Behind the crowd, lonely
days, mob faced with pain
and fantasy. Enthusiasm
outlasts contempt. After I
lose the will to win
it all comes back
In peace, I've finally
peace
Don't trust the singing voice
Too many echoes gather
mixed with the crowd's murmurs
the smell of flesh and fancy
designer clothes. Can the singer
hear pure singing in his body
filled with the desire to sing
in tune only with his inner life
The pure sound calls
from within, touching perhaps
only the soul and not
those surrounding fabrics
not the flesh trembling
in its shame
I see peace in
peace, feeling it come
from the heart's deep
glory. Can you turn away from
the imagined honor
Before the audience
walk away. Before
the agony of shame
Before all desires of the
flesh burst
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Sitting in the sun
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The passage to heaven
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