I crossed the sea of stopped cars,
as I stepped onto the street,
I saw you
a ghost – The ghost of the past,
a past like any other, teeming with moments
of silence, and regretful comments.

You smiled, it was your happy smile,
– Like your Cheshire cat smile.
and that smile I hadn’t seen in a while.
you held open the door, for me or for you,
but I kept walking, the path interrupted and
our serendipity foiled by the devil’s siren
again.

“She thought up I should be with you…
but it’s time to face the truth…
I will never…
be…
with you.” Sang the song playing in my ears.

So I looked back, a lonely street, a sad past,
and you…
were gone.

I have a confession: I miss you and I have since that day,
that you went to Saturn and orbited away,
and I haven’t seen you since that day,
until today,
and I couldn’t say,
a **** word.

But there you were, smiling, holding a door open,
where you really there?
or
was everything in vain
that day on 4th & Main?

Music is the meaning of this monster called life.

- riddles of rock and rap -

- beautiful ballads -

- sightless sounds -

- lyrics of lonesome love -

music makes my memory magical.

- I think I love music.

the wilds - my eyes focus on a fragmented figment a magnificent magnification of my dreams, it’s enigmatic, electrifying, enchanting - bogged in a dismal murky muck of lost hope, worn splendor, a broken down, lonely deserted caboose waiting for a jolt, i watch my happiness, & my fulfillment steam away as i grow rusty and dilapidated - forgotten about - but as this fragmented figment magnifies magnificently, i feel the warmth, melting my heart of rusted metal, and loosening the hinges on the doors, as the figment enters the doors, i feel fear and terror, but blissfulness and amorous, i will be rebuilt again, and you’re the one, rebuilding my heart, my soul, and this dilapidated metal frame. Shape me and break the smoldering mold for me to be yours, so i am just that, yours.

That punk rock girl with that dip-dyed hair
Standing around, her skin so fair
Smoking that cigarette she stole from her friend
After all, it won't **** her till the end

That punk rock girl with that dip-dyed hair
She looks at me with love and care
She thinks I don't notice the twinkle in her eye
I do, but say nothing, I just stand back and sigh

That punk rock girl with that dip-dyed hair
Standing around, her skin so fair
Breathing in the cancer she stole from her friend
After all, death is just around the bend.

The wind howls
outside my bedroom window
shaking me
my heart; my soul

it screams
while you sit there
drinking sweet-smelling coffee
a baby boy in Africa
cries of hunger
and aching ribs.

while you are curled up
under warm and soft blankets
an old and lonely man
wanders the darkest streets
looking for warmth;
a home

while you hide there
surrounded by light and family
with an aura of ungratefulness
you are lost in the rays of your technologies
with a frown on your angelic face
when a weeping woman
shakes and prays
for her gone children to reach Heaven happily
but you dare forget God to a screen?

my house shakes
from Wind's agonizing words
and a streak of cold
trickles into my haven
along with the words
"what am I doing?"

somehow
my stiff legs reach
a window
and the arms in front of me
pull it open
to reveal no sound at all

where is the wind?
did he leave just as
he touched
my heart; my soul
making me waver?
or does a gust not howl ,
speak,
and isn't heard?

no
the wind was here
for how else did the once-twinkling snowflakes
suddenly freeze
and lose all of their beauty?

no one but Wind
would take the innocence
of such young and beautiful white specks
just as they landed
in this cold,
dark world

no one but Wind
would flare you with reality
enough to make you cry with obliviousness
for this wind; my Wind
he is the voice off all those
who have faced
life's stinging brutality;
him
instead of
hiding under covers
and whispering morbid lies
that
everything is okay