With a cursory press of a key and arco of the strings,
They look at each other,
Determining when to start through what looks like telepathy,
But it is instead the subtle movement of arms and chest.
They begin.
With the movement of bows bouncing on metal,
And the dancing digits upon black and white,
Sound reverberates between the audience,
With eyes and ears in tandem absorbing the scene.
They continue.
As they pass over bridges,
And draw out waves with their hands,
I listen,
Swaying and breathing and performing as though I am beside them,
Despite being above them,
Yet feeling so below.
Becoming one with their instrument,
And bringing me along,
I smile,
As just like they pull beauty out of their tools with their soul,
They guide joy out of me,
For all of us.
They end.
Then again, they start.
With new sounds from a new person,
With new intent,
And new methods.
They change.
From haphazard joy and dance,
To somber death and confusion,
They become one with the music,
And follow in its suit.
They continue, anew.
As the sound changes,
So do I.
Listening with sharper ears,
Hoping to catch a different magic in my ears.
They continue, still.
As the cello draws honey,
The violin; its dew,
And the piano waterfalls arpeggios,
I am content.
They end.
Full of the food of life,
They stand,
To let us feast with them with our hungry hands,
Giving our own vibrations to fill our drooling souls.
They leave.
And so do I.
Both of us fed and quenched,
From the performance.
Sep 12, 2022
Sep 12, 2022 at 3:33 AM UTC
See, C sea.
See the sea through the eyes of C.
C the great,
Sea’s first mate,
See the seas C,
The sea of me and C.
C sea, see.
C is a sea of see.
Seeing a sea is quite the treat,
Seeing C is also so sweet,
So if C sees the sea,
Will she ever see me?
C, see sea?
C is my sea to see.
The sea to C just can’t compare,
For C to sea is just too unfair,
For when I look at C,
She’s all I care to see.
May 7, 2022
May 7, 2022 at 2:12 AM UTC
Her Music
Her music is a siren’s melody that stirs my lust within me.
She stirs my desires from my mire’s into chamomile tea.
I poke and **** to understand what I have on hand,
To understand what makes me bend so to that band.
Is it the counterpoint of chest and waist that draws me into delightful harmony?
Is it the peak of each sloping lick that entices my ear and makes it perk up?
Does the dotted staccatos of her face draw me away from the affrightful monotony?
Is it so wrong to try and demand what makes her so desirable to me?
But as I poke and **** and pray and prey upon her contemporary anatomy,
Will I **** the joke of the frog that made her such a fantasy?
As I hope and have and hate and harbor such feeling on her,
Will I find the joke on the frog was always just inside her?
Do I want her music for it stirs my tea,
Or do I want her song for it makes me happy?
Do I poke and **** and prey and pray for her melody to be within me?
Or do I poke and **** and pray and prey upon her for her contemporary anatomy?
Chamomile dreams help lull me to lay,
To avoid the night of thinking about the day,
To once again hear her melody,
And fear her coming into my sleep.
A dream of beauty played by a lyre,
As my tongue snakes the song of a choir,
Bind her music and mine together,
Blind the melody of her forever,
Can she say yes, no,
Could be mine and mine alone,
Don’t take what isn’t mine,
Dissonance grown as harmonize,
Everdream break and eyes align,
Every sin made again mine,
For Eve is not Adams’s rib,
Fraught with the thought of glib,
Got nothing to give,
Giving love to nothing she is,
As the key of C is a simple beauty,
No flats nor sharps or blemishes on the tarp,
With an infinite possibility,
For a finite amount of humanity.
Yet mine is complicated with dismay,
Enharmonic with six symbols,
Found,
Two-ways.
For her melody is C,
The great.
She is my tea,
And strait.
And mine is grey,
The dead.
A pale sway,
Of dread.
As I poke and **** and pray and prey and hope and have and hate and hate the music,
I wonder if 7th can be rounded.
As I poke and **** and pray and prey and hope and have and hate and hate the music,
I wonder if my 7ths are rounded.
As I poke and **** and pray and prey and hope and have and hate and love her music,
I wonder if tea dreams.
As I poke and **** and pray and prey and hope and have and hate and love her music,
I dream about a new key.
As I poke and **** and pray and prey and hope and have and hate and hate and love her,
I wonder if I’m right.
As I poke and **** and pray and prey and hope and have and hate and hate and love her,
What if I’m not right?
Feb 2, 2022
Feb 2, 2022 at 8:06 PM UTC
As another night begins,
I hold the edge of my bed,
Looking into my head.
All these old feelings appear,
And my minds painted,
Misty Muave
We knew this could never happen,
Yet I still whispered:
“Never leave me…”
I still love you so much,
Ya know,
Yet I let you go,
Because two “ friends” can’t be one soul…
Baby what can I do,
You know I still love you,
Yet to save ourselves,
We’ll meet someone new.
Get out of my mind,
Our love was so sinful,
Yet desire and truth,
Still collided in night.
Denying every beat,
Denying everything,
Won’t change my hearts tinge.
Denying what we were,
Denying to others,
“He’s my friend…”
We were friend that knew everything,
To where we could ask:
“Can you read me?”
As you said yes and leaned towards me,
A kiss,
Sealed the fact,
That you could read me like a paperback.
Baby what can I do,
I can’t help but love you,
Ain’t nothing that,
That can erase what’s true...
Get out of my mind,
You know this can’t happen,
Yet to play with our hearts,
Is so tantalizing.
We knew this could never happen,
Yet I still whispered:
“Can I love you?”
I still love you so much,
Ya know,
Despite what happened,
But how can two boys say for sure…
Baby what can I do,
You know I still love you,
Yet to save ourselves,
We’ll meet someone new.
Get out of my mind,
Our love was so sinful,
Yet desire and truth,
Still collided in night.
Baby what can I do,
I can’t help but love you,
Ain’t nothing that,
That can erase what’s true
Get out of my mind,
You know this can’t happen,
Yet to play with our hearts,
Is so tantalizing.
Baby what can I do,
My words can never say it,
Because if they could,
I would still be with you.
Get out of my mind,
How taboo for this to happen,
A crossed wire in hearts,
Can’t bring two worlds apart...
Mar 31, 2021
Mar 31, 2021 at 12:50 AM UTC
The sky is ablaze with ash,
For I am having a clash.
My father is working in hell,
Not concerned with Earth's well.
And as I rise out of death to fix His mess,
Many humans will rise to atest.
I mean all well and wish to simply clean,
But there is far to much for me not be mean.
God cares little for what I do,
For humans all burn with a deadly hue.
And as I clean out the gutter,
All will cry in a hellish mutter.
Bodies will line the street as I see fit,
And Lucifer's work will get fuller by a bit.
Yet ash is simply an inconvience to Him,
But it loves to ask for God's penance.
Now I clean out ash,
As sin makes any human black.
Jun 8, 2019
Jun 8, 2019 at 1:48 AM UTC
"Demons sing,
Throughout the horrid night,
Hoping to cause,
A little fright…"
I don't know why,
But the terrors so good.
We stay here and lie,
Maybe more then we should…
Sirens at night,
Waiting just like we would,
Temptation and ire,
That burns you like firewood.
Maybe we're monsters,
Maybe we're good,
Maybe we're humans,
Just under a hood.
Yet at the end of the day,
We simply saaayyyy,
"There ain't much about us,
That you need to know.
We simply stay here,
Waiting to go.
All that we do,
Is **** fools like you.
For our songs are temptation,
And you humans love damnation!
And just like a lamb,
To the pitiful slaughter,
Your blood will soon run,
Like red crimson water!"
Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 12:06 PM UTC
Writing a story on a topic,
Hazing away at the microsoapics,
I write stories that aren’t meant to be fun,
Just the basic humdrum.
Reality is my Inspiration,
No matter the mood I’m in.
Dragons and Wizards are to be left on the bookshelves,
As I run to work,
And meet my colleagues for a day of writing reality.
We walk the world in actuality,
And see people with all different vitality.
People of all different ideas of reality.
They speak,
I listen,
I ask,
And they answer,
And we both learn about reality together.
I then write what I heard,
Tell what I saw,
And let the ideas fly like birds.
I've seen all people of life,
I've heard many of there trifes.
I laughed at their victories,
I cry at their lost,
And I hear all their vivid histories.
I write all types of reality,
From the memories of all different types of vitalities.
And as I write about how reality unfurls,
I write about the greatest dreams of this world
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 11:07 PM UTC
The day is bright and blue,
While the night hails the universe's true view.
The sun, hailed as the giver of all life and the first true fire,
As the moon is considered all of death's lyres.
While life is given power by the sun,
The moon is the cloak for all of its assassins.
As the sun is fiery and passionate,
Our moon is quiet and loves maleficence.
As the day gives only the bare truth,
The night covers all that who are to sleuth
Sun and moon,
God and Satan,
Earth and sky,
Truth and jive,
Life and death,
Fire and water,
Dusk and dawn
Diverting Martyrs
Oppositions of our humainty,
Sun and moon,
Balance our reality...
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 7:27 PM UTC
As I make a video for YouTube,
I go down to the mall with the real dudes.
I bring with me a mahogany sled,
Ready to go cause the security guards some dread.
I get in and go to the nearest empty escalator,
I chant a mantra that will be hailed by all masturbaters.
“Smoke Grass, Eat *** Sled Fast,” I say,
But I am accosted by a mans hearsay.
Her threatens me with the cops,
But I ignore this and go down for the props.
I’m then chased by the old ******* that reeked of sea tang,
And hear my friends shout, “SLED GANG.”
I run with my sled in hand,
Chased by the **** who dare brought up his ******** demand.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC
Parched in a tree,
Watching the prey with glee.
Seeing them scurry and run without limitation,
Makes me pounce without hesitation.
I grasp the prey sqirumining,
Hearing the voice of them worming.
I clench my claws over there body,
I pierce it’s hide,
And my talons get ******
It starts shaking with false life, shaking and shaking,
Until it gives in and all the meat is for the taking,
All the death is for the taking.
I parch in a tree to enjoy my feast,
And watch see the sun rising in the east.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 3:31 PM UTC