There is some such music that may be played
a strange lilting tone as they say,
that no matter my condition
nor present company I find myself in
shall move me to tears....
perhaps of joy or sadness or long forgotten despair.

It's overwhelming rush of memory and hope
rising and falling upon my tired, blood-stained heart,
as the immeasurable and ever flowing tides
shall perhaps one day carve of me,
the man I was born to be.

Wandered I to that ancient place
found your footprint upon the shore,
sea meeting sky and sky meeting earth
the scent of your passing upon the wind.

Thaisteal mé go dtí an áit sin ársa
Fuair ​​do lorg ar an gcladach,
spéir cruinniú farraige agus spéir domhain cruinnithe
an boladh de do rite ar an ghaoth.

Cried your name through whispering glen
spoke to Holy Oaks and brooding pines,
nights growing long and the days unkind
only ever traces of you could I find.

*D'ainm trí ghleanna
Labhair le Naofa agus goradh,
oícheanta fás fada agus na laethanta
ach riamh rianta de tú raibh mé in ann a aimsiú.

So the poem I posted before this. I was drunk, and high, and apparently became a 15 year old emo kid cutting myself and shoving a banana up my ***. Please forgive me poetry gods, I knew not what I did.

I wish that I could just be a normal kind of person,
I wish that I could just fall in love
and shrug it off if it falls through
could just have had a regular and everyday
kind of love that high school and college years
were meant for.

As much as I may wish it otherwise, I
must accept the foolish fact that I
am breaking without you.

Let me go home
to those green valleys and blue mountains
where bluegrass is played alongside jazz
and you can get vegan meals or a good steak
most people not really caring where you
lay your allegiance god-wise
as long as you don't go around converting folks.

I've been in this desert solitude
for far too long
emptying myself out upon rocks
and thinking to find something
transcendental and awe-inspiring
all while not realizing that simple truth:
the love I've been looking for really
could have been found anywhere.

So let me go home Father
take this useless cast net from me
especially since I'm a 'hossman
and sure ain't no fishaman
so why did you send me wanderin
to the shores of this sea?

So I could find her maybe
or realize that, like that one story
I had to leave everything behind
and journey on some kind of suffering
inspired pilgrimage to nowhere
and then come back again?

///

when I think you haven’t recalled me
and you are wondering to flee
I have discovered myself alone

the evening star is moving under the dark
and the road seems like arc
the time goes underneath the memory hark

I move with the wrong
and my guitar is longing too long
the birds are singing so melancholy song

I don’t know then
why I feel you very
feel you very

when I am coming back to home
and you are running to roam
I have discovered myself again alone

my dreams are floating in bubbles
and I feel you are in so many troubles
dry leaves are falling on the floor

I am walking alone on the shore
and hearing your voice into my core
love moves with so many more

I don’t know then
why I feel you very
Feel you very-

///
@Musfiq us shaleheen

As good as I may be at spitting out poems about injustice and social rage, as tough as I may sound or pretend to be, as cynical and jaded as I may talk and walk, none of that is really who I want to be. I don't want money and fame or power to remake the world as I see fit. Wouldn't be able to handle the responsibility of political power anyway. Honestly I don't even really want to be the person my 18 year old self wanted, and yet have become, almost without realizing it. He would envy me, my younger self, of the life I live now. Beholden to no one, doing basically whatever I want as long as I can afford the rent and make myself go to work after nights full of pointless hedonism. But that entire veneer, yes even some of my writing, is just to make up for this hole that runs right through the middle of me. All I really want, is to return from whence I came. Be a teacher or something, write a bit on the side, have that mystery called true love and family, maybe own a bit of land just for us, somewhere on the edge of a small town full of artists and good honest folk. Coastline or mountains make no difference to me, the language spoken not really that important either. I'll go anywhere and do anything I can to find this dream that I tend to not ever talk about, since it is the one true thing that I have ever really wanted deep down inside, even if my younger self would've denied it.