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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=568765" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Piano vs. Guitar</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">i sat down at the piano bench for 10 whole years<br>i never stood up and moved away because of my fears<br>that i had been wasting my time and i wouldnt express myself<br>i couldnt rewrite erase scratch out replace what i had been taught</div><div style="margin:10px 0">not by myself always with a hand moving me left to right right to left<br>until that day i wasn't afraid to stand and i saw myself not moving just<br>shifting from side to side i was only getting morose with no sense of wit or pride</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i could get soulful and stand and swing liek the wind on the trees and no more was i trying to express myself on the piano on the keys where my fingers tried to get crazy but all i could do was type at the same rate with a bomb between my knees</div><div style="margin:10px 0">so i saw my dad's guitar one day and my hands went up and down and not<br>from side to side and i didn't have to sit down and i choked the neck, twisted the head and realized that i saw in the face of what i could become and never hide</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i saw in the face of it who i wanted to be, not what i was but what i could be come<br>and my past was behind me, and it chided me antagonized me until i saw that<br>my hand worked better as a claw</div><div style="margin:10px 0">my father's guitar i saw it and i saw his face and i saw mine too and since that day i learned to scratch out and erase and revise what i felt inside and what i could </div><div style="margin:10px 0">express and that i could get soulful when i wasn't sitting down to rest at the bench<br>to stagnate to get comfortable and masturbate and never get out of my comfort zone so my mind vacated the place where i was sat naked</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i could get soulful and stand and swing liek the wind on the trees and no more was i trying to express myself on the piano on the keys where my fingers tried to get crazy but all i could do was type at the same rate with a bomb between my knees</div><div style="margin:10px 0">waiting to explode, or reload the dissapointment inside my head untill i remembered that one lost phrase that my fingers once said on that guitar with that bar chord sliding up and down and noticing that for the first time i could get funky and move around.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Maxwell+Ames">Maxwell Ames</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=568765" data-title="Piano vs. Guitar de Maxwell Ames" data-description="i sat down at the piano bench for 10 whole years
i never stood up and moved away because of my fears
that i had been wasting my time and i wouldnt express myself
i couldnt rewrite erase scratch out replace what i had been taught

not by myself alw..."></div>
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