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Margaret  Aug 2014
music man
Margaret Aug 2014
Newbury
Strum chords
Very urban

Man
Hair in bun
Guitar
Strum strum


music stops
Forehead creases

I have to go now.
Says Into microphone
If Jillian is on the street, I am on the street. The music man is on the street.
Message me If you want clarification on the meaning of this poem.
I believe it was the sawdust of summer when I found your voice in a shadow of a song it reminded me of my past hurt. You sang so beautifully of lilacs and photogenic water, you build harmonies powerful enough to save angels in a storm.

Quickly I caught on and held tight to your butterflies you called lyrics. You spoke of love like you had a doctrine in it. I thought for men love was a learning curve. You proved me wrong. You did not just create music and magic you birth colors out of sound and called them stories.

You blurred the lines between reality and fantasy. I bet your music is similar to the way God speaks. I bet you discovered a guitar inside of a black deity and the piano inside of a white devil's broken heart.  

Prince, I bet you can play anything even the fossils of flowers.
Your music is an endless drug, a purple high. Listening to you made me feel like all four seasons cuddled up with a kiss.
Tell me when did you get tired of playing love songs?

When did balancing the moon and a microphone become all too much for you? Who choked the life out of your vocal chords? ****, I would give almost anything to hear you live again!  Oh Wait, I think I get it. Is this how you go beyond means of self to teach us dead silence is music too?
saige  Mar 2018
Dog Star Quality
saige Mar 2018
Lyrics in her face
blaze, from screen to mouth
bony thumb, scrolling
mumbling into an ancient microphone
hanging from the rope swing
in her garage.

Voice shakes here, shivers there
but ****
she is soulful.

Authentic, exquisite
in holey socks and wet hair
and goosebumped arms
getting swallowed by a hoodie.

*******, she has it all
and gives it nothing.

Some of us are simply stunning
no spray tans or updos
no sequined skirts or stiletto shoes
no autotune or makeup kits
no words-

only nothing
could improve her.

Nothing could improve her.
some soul i used to know
faith  Oct 2017
~sing~
faith Oct 2017
i walk to the stage,
i put on my masquerade,
i take the microphone,
and get in the zone.

i start out slow,
because i know,
that when the tempo gets fast,
i can't make it last.

i blend my voice with the song,
hoping that it'll last all night long,
this is bliss,
give me more of this.
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