Music should be
Louder than thoughts
To strangle
And embrace them
A drain for emotions
And a chamber for expression
Music should be
A moment
And everything before
And memories
For a new beginning

I seek the calm
And find the moment
Before agitation finds me
Once again
And makes silence
Deafening
So I embrace the unrest
With music louder than thoughts
To strangle it
But without conclusion
Once again

I feel so
Strangely estranged
From this whole strange world
I feel so strangely estranged
From the people
who knows me
And yet does not know me
And whom I’ll never know
Yet strangely
They’re not strangers
And in a strange way
I’m no stranger to them
And even though
I am no stranger
To me
I have no idea who I am
I am a stranger in my life
In my home
In my mind
I am a stranger
To the thoughts that I sometimes think
And to the stories that I sometimes write
I am a stranger
To this strange poem
And I am a stranger
To the one staring back from the reflection
And in a strange way
I feel strangely estranged
To the whole concept
Of known
Or strange

Alright; I’ll write you a poem
Although, you never asked for one
But it caught your interest once
And forever
You held onto mine
You’ll never read it
Never even see it
But I’ll write you a poem
For it caught your interest once
And forever
You held onto mine

Christmas
The strangest time of year
The time of year
With pretended love
And insincere gifts
Christmas
With snow that never was in Bethlehem
And kids
Taught materialism
Yet
We claim
The love
For the neighbor, family and friends
And give
Our time
To food and shopping
And discomfort
Yet
I love it, in the end
For the roots are not rotten
Yet
And love not completely forgotten
Yet