The next big classical music craze

Is bound to be straight-swipe 
but obvious plagiarisms 
of famous, public domain 
symphonies 

right through. Note for note 
but changed enough you 
can recognize you couldn't 
quite sue, even if

it was protected!

"Hey, that's it? I know the score 
on this famous movement. Watch me
name it in one-"-wait. No, that's

definitely not even it, by slight 
but definitive twist and spin. Such 
daft touch. It cannot be that the
whole stuck-up struck up band
keeps making the same mistake

simultaneously right through!

Synchronicity is everything plus
a pretty good police album, but 
that teamwork mistake theory
blows the coincidence hunch 
right off the drawing board 

in a point-blank fusillade 
of the whole detective 
force. These dudes 
and gumshoe dames 
are far better clued 
than to mistake their 
cue in this case!  

But as the music upwells
and unfolds in pomp-punch, famous-
lite-like smooth soaring swoop and
stale crunch, canned-grandiose 
yet still grandeur-esque, 

re-fried to ironic flourish and blest
with a dirty finish lingering in mind's
ear's mouth, you can tell aghast that's 

exactly what they do-over. 

You even recall the name.

No mistaking this! Oh wait that's
film scores. Nevermind. It's been 
done to death within one's own 
living memory. 

I just heard Some Also-Thus Spake
cut-rate Zarathustra, AKA the big 
bone-ape-moon theme from 2001, 

done up like elevator music only
full orchestra for real, in one long 
blast from the bottom of the Shaft
theme (which if so, I can dig it),
to smash continuously through 

the top of my inner building! Like 
a one-headshot kill of a moon-rocket
slingshot Dennis the Menace might

have grow up to compose like a full-on
hack Maestro, if Mister Wilson's son 
hadn't hacked up a time machine 
to poison Dennis at birth. 

Wise move, for classical purists 
arguably. 

That piece just now 
was obviously all done
in one otherwise
boring and idle
afternoon by dark 
dumb crafty arts,
helped along by
the devil's own
groping and probing
hands (always

handy for any but a real
die-cast hard procrastinator),

boosted high-enough
for the notes to chime
hilariously off. I say,

what a low, funny trick to pull
on all the (obviously real live!)
musicians who sat down for that!

Only to find at a page-flapping
jaw-dropping glance, they knew
the score was wrong-shifted
two beats per note every bar!
Just enough in fact

to innocuously pose
unaccusable, plausibly 

innocent of grab, but
no. Unmistakably shame
-free foul-banal. It's

been done. We've been
had. But it was actually
quite thrilling in its caught
-kept time! It moved me 

professionally
and unprofessionally, 
as a fan and critic, almost
to puke into the depths 
of abyss Nietzsche

too longingly gave his 
male gaze up into, 

finding a pretty cute
belly-button there. Pushing it,
mistaking it for a soul 

too-soon (and by rumor
alone) declared 

alive