You asked if you could see me before I lost my mind,
I pushed back 'cause I was busy and it turned out that you went blind.
I know that speaking can still be a medicine,
but if the boat's leaking you don't let more water in.

Daily I read the news only to seek out the star signs,
today's lit a fuse literally and inbetween all of the lines,
and I must've read it over and over, about half a million times,
took the paper into a folder and made it into rhymes.

Now I'm living as a shell,
casing in an outdated ghost.
Stuck in a purgatory hell,
sailing back and forth; riding the coast.
But if I balance on the tightrope,
I might make it to the other side.
Clench my toes and then pray for hope,
and hold on for the slow painful ride.
I've been starving at a king's feast,
while the sun's been setting in the east.
I've been rioting while keeping the peace,
while the sun's been setting in the east.

If I stand still long enough I may fight the urge to shake,
I need a pill to make me strong and tough but it's the pill that makes me break,
and if I ask more favours of this world it just might turn to quake,
but I'll sit back and let it savour before I start to ache.

But you can see the snow piling into overload,
and you can tell yourself the sky's still blue,
but if you slide and drift through an open road,
your mind might not tell you what to do.
You'll feel your heart rise than drop,
as you struggle to stop.

Now I'm living in a shell,
casing in an outdated ghost.
The story's longer than I could ever tell,
but the message behind it is what matters the most.
But if I balance on the tightrope,
I might make it to the other side.
The string rises on into a *****,
I'll just pray my foot doesn't slide.
I've been starving at a king's feast,
while the sun's been setting in the east.
I've been only getting what I need least,
while the sun's been setting in the east.

All of us are music.
Living breathing compositions.

Some are jazz. All bright colors and playful vibrancy mixed with a sultry sumptuous purr
.
Some are Blues. Deep down colors and aching longing mixed with a quiet wailing rumble.

Some are Rock. Primary colors and down home feel mixed with cruisin with the windows down and karaoke.

Some are Heavy metal. Reflective silvers, polished steels mixed with screaming wires and fierce feral growls.

Some are Alternative. Contrasting secondary colors and experimentation mixed with mystery box wonder and quizzical quirkiness.

Some are Classical. Black and white colors  of perfection mixed with full bodied timelessness.

Some are Pop. Vibrant pastel colors of youth and innocence mixed with bursting bubblegum bubbles and giddy dancy hope

Some are Showtunes. Lighted colors of exaggeration mixed with bravado and intensity

Some are Opera. Red hues of passion and heart mixed with pushing vocal limits and whole body overtures and ovations.

All of which run through the current of ‘soul’. Show yours. Feel yours. Sing yours. Whatever you do, do it with soul.

“Space
The Final Frontier”
Planets, stars, the moon, the sun

Now I won’t write some cliche about how the sun dies every night to let the moon live
Or how the moon only shines because it reflects the sun's light
Or just about how awesome the sun is
and how it keeps us alive

But I will write about how beautiful a full moon is on a cold dark night
So big, you could almost touch it
Except
It is still so far away

Sometimes I see the moon
And burst into tears because
I cannot feel the moon
Only the cold chill of night

The moon is an art piece
You could call him god's masterpiece
Untouchable,
Indescribably beautiful

The moon and its power over the ocean
Controlling its tides
Sometimes strong
Sometimes weak
Always present
Its as if the moon and ocean
Have a commitment
That is really forever

The moon- a chunk of the earth
That just strayed
A little too far from home

The moon and his many phases
Yet he is still one in the same

The moon- a contradiction
Hiding away
Before showing his true face

But let me tell you a secret
This isn't about the moon
This is about my heart,
Being four thousand eight hundred and five miles from its home
A whole different country
So far out of reach
A moon, For only my eyes to see