It is hard to say
Quite where my excitement begins
Seemingly deep inside,
The adrenaline pumps
Straight from my heart.
Intrinsic as it is,
This energy builds from the drums
And the power of the cadence
As it rolls off the rims
And pounds it's dissonant melody
Deep in to my core
The roar of a thousand bodies
United under a unanimous thought
A single goal
I nearly cannot contain
The passion building inside me
The crowd swaying me
To wish for exactly what they want
I am soon swept far away
Lost deep in the energy
Propelled by endless streams of
Enthusiasm
And loud cheers of affirmation
I cannot and will not turn back
I love being lost here
Inside this beautiful cacophony
Echoing cries of pure joy
And music raised to the stars
Underneath these Friday night lights

When the lights go down and the crowd goes home when the night rolls out and the demons come. Will you hold me through the storm? ..until the peace at dawn.

In the crowd make sure of your footing
You may get stepped on and lose balance
Landing on your face or fall backward
Fear of losing face or laying supine
Always practice the deft steps
To find a balance in the teeming populace
Trying to find a chance to trip you over
Pull back from the horde, to find your goal
You may not know what awaits you
Fate wants you to dance alone
Along the streets leading to your goal
Make sure you find your footing

A million twinkling stars
On a purple-grey sky.
A million strands of grass
On a wet brown land.
A million mites of dust
In the air I breathe.
A million specks of rust
On the bench in front.
A million rays of light
From the lamp-post proud.
A million dreams in sight
In the overwhelming crowd.
~Moniba.

I glide through the crowd
Blood rushes to my face
My hands stick with sweat
My lips open and close in prayer
But I am silent.

I stare at a wall
The carpet, a painting, a book,
But my mind will not focus.
Anything to hide the panic.
To hide the fear.

Tears are now a threat.
My panic wants to escape
But I am in public
I am being watched, observed under a microscope, scrutinised.
I must not cry.

It is as though I am
A foreigner in this world.
I want my home, locked doors,
But I do not want solitude.
I wish I were brave.

This is the place where people come to forget that they will die one day.

They let their conscience build up on the linoleum floor in puddles,
deep and dark
And follow the crowd to the next store
And the next
And the next.

This place will bleed you.
It will tear your pockets out of your clothing
And your children’s hands from yours.

A new shirt.
A new TV.
Well done.
You’ve done well.

But when you leave the white walls
The music tinny and dim
Escalators and litter
You still won’t feel free.