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i’ll smoke it to you backspace blunt

thumps bleak my holely heart skips no beat now

spooky indescribables thunder thru stampout little light lingers

that cone spot still so much will never be of me old dusty couldhaves

participlepast dreams drip dreams dripping in sector seven la la ville

unsee to see unear to hear unthink clear and quick the c minor crows

blow real tight right a runthru my latest a piece a same peace piece a

same piece revolve evolving solving the deeper sound of sound but

the snookerd vision in situ so verily verily long been weand mutant t’s

descendants of our misdeeds and get what we O sound scaper jinn

dear marinie reenies but a backdoor slap whack and a halfhut after



About a. edward watkins

With the exception of 2 years study of western music theory and harmony- I am a self taught percussionist, writer and abstract painter. Not your drummer boy drummer - not your writerly writer nor the painterly painter. Creativity is an integral aspect of my existence - as it is for us all - in some form or another. My experiences in life have informed and shaped my world view profoundly. I am the disrupter - the never quite satisfied - the relentless creator of word, sound and image. I question the answers and question the questions.

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