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The front man does the singing
The drummer provides the beat
Then there is the lead guitarist
Still the band is incomplete.
There is a certain member
Who we often underrate
He's there in the background
The one who plays the bass
Sometimes he goes unnoticed
By the audience and the crowds
And can easily be forgotten
As the rest all play out loud
But he holds the band together
The band should all be proud.
If it wasn't for the bass player
They would be gone like a passing cloud.
People often fail to realise that in most cases the bass guitarist is the structure and holds the band together.
What is the universal language?
Is it not music? That soothes and amuses,
That inspires us to movement,
That paints a picture of a thousand words,
That when it’s heard, can move us to love.

Music so expressive, it can make you weep
Sounds so smooth, they can help you sleep.
And what about marches that propel armies,
Keeping their feet as one, with the beat?

A beat that throbs deep in your heart
And calls you apart, to dance or to revolution –  
The revolution of the soldier,
Or the revolution of the ballerina’s toes.
Who knows what has been done by the song you have sung
It has called, it has touched, it has moved
Like a bell, it has rung.

But let it love, not hate
Let it not be sung too late
And remember that all can hear it
So draw people near with it

You don’t need a rehearsal
To speak the universal language of music- Just use it!
holding on for better days
leaving the ones that left me dazed
thoughts that blurred
leave me amazed

broken
always broken
patterns which remained
the same

my heart wont part
or gush or beat
connecting is all to do
it seems
Most corrupt people
are already rich,
their hunger is much
harder to satisfy.

*


© 2013
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/willyampax/1256386/

I believed in Karma
But often times I think many powerful people has avoid it
By merely starving the hungry.
Karma is good, yet it takes time, longer or shorter it may seems…
It always starts in small doses.
Mine became a life of chaos
Lived on the edge of a knife
Balanced for eternity
Caught between death and life

In the end the fear of living
Burned me to the very core
Without my anaesthetic
I knew I could take no more

There was no fight left in me
I had no heart that I could give
I had no way of surviving
It cost me too much to live

Into a well of silence
I breathed a desperate prayer
Uncertain of an answer
Or who might be out there

As I listened in confusion
The solution came to me
Live a life of honesty
The truth could set me free

So I stepped in the future
I discovered my true worth
And after the death of winter
Came spring my season of rebirth
Last of the seasonal quartet about life; depression and addiction
My country is full of people
too violent and dumb to be anything else.
We value money, bodies, and your stuff
because it is not ours yet.

My flag is wrapped around some
white-trash hick's *******.
You look different than us and
that is ******* terrifying;
please leave while we stay
in your country,
'protecting you'.

My country is home to
religious freedom, as long
as the religion is Christianity.

My country is the world's
greatest melting ***, but
we'd prefer all ingredients
to be the same or die.

My country is a joke,
thinking it's the standard
the world desires to achieve.

My country is the world police,
creating tension, harassing you,
hating you, taking from you.
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