Crikey, I wake up and I’m b-flat!
I mean I’m actually the note, 466.164 Hz,
it’s Kafka’s Metamorphosis except I’m a tone
instead of a cockroach.
Holy crap, here come the arpeggios
and plink! Blam! Down come the keys! 
Argh! No! No! Now the bow saws strings across me,
Now I’m flapping like a warbler
in the throat of this singer.
Where, oh where is harmony?
I beg musica universalis, music of the spheres
to release me,
yet here I stay, imprisoned
behind bars, banging my little tin cup
on the iron staves.

Miz Quickly


  1. Ron. says:

    Ain’t nuthin flat ’bout this piece; that’s fer sure!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Jules says:

    Hurry up! Wake up!! Don’t B♭ no more!!

    Reminds me of a few night-terrors I’ve had!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. whimsygizmo says:

    Holy cow, Sir! What a visual! This is so so good. I can see the note, and his tiny cup.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. qbit says:

      Thank you! BTW, if you have a sec, nudging you over to something I wrote a while back, one of my betterish efforts: http://qbit.blog/2022/11/06/on-reading-four-small-bees/


  4. Debi says:

    Where, oh where is harmony? Check
    You are a word maestro.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Such a vivid description of what a nervous wreck music is so often provoked into being

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Shawna says:


    Liked by 1 person

  7. Misky says:

    I wish I could B#

    Liked by 1 person

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