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K10SW Nov 2
I picked up poetry to write what I can’t say to anyone. I picked up guitar to play what words couldn’t find. Tell me why I’m running out of both ink and melody. Why has the pen run dry and the strings snap? Why has music failed to speak when the words faltered? Why have my words fallen short when music is silenced?

Neither letters nor notes carry the weight I seek them to bear. Neither sonnet nor symphonies echo loud enough for my meaning to be heard.

But I shall continue to write, continue to play. Because when the pen runs dry and the strings snap, there will still be creation left to do. There will still be a heart that beats the rhythm of a soul with a message to be shared.
Ryan Nov 1
Can you hear the music inside you, the instruments of pure passion?  

I can see it in your heart  

Beams overhead singing deeply, warming and glowing  

You are merely the product of my dreams  

I hang sweeping this fog alone and icy  

Swallowing these purple and red words, pale and invisible  



And my chest opens to you, but to you my heart is invisible

I can feel my soul trembling, can you sing to it with passion

Can you hold my heart in your fingertips, cold and icy

smelling the goats and strong and mature bark, dancing with my heart

How can I forget you, when all the time I spend with you is in my dreams.

Load this gun and place your passion in the chamber and watch me fade; glowing.



Can you feel my heart glowing?

Do your eyes penetrate my soul, or am I invisible?

Can you trap my thoughts and steal away my dreams?

Can you share your light and spend some of it on me, enlighten me with your passion

Take my heart

Can you sing to it, can you defrost it, it is icy.



Be like a thief and steal me away, take my heart, and the shadows that are icy

Your bag of hearts you have stolen, deadly and glowing

These souls tormented by you also, you hang their heart

And still, I remain invisible?

I scratch at this cage, haunted by what – your passion

Let me lay here still and die in my dreams.







Why do I continue to hope, why can I only have dreams?

This aisle is deadly, gridlocked and icy

Submissive to the heights of your words in passion

Take my feet here and steal, your footprints are glowing

Mine are – to you- invisible

But they lay down structures for my heart



And so, I beg you, don’t steal my heart

Let me rest and hope in my dreams

Make yourself invisible

Cold and icy

Leave the shadows glowing

And leave me alone, struck by passion



Just let me go, you have struck this chord and left me with passion

You have left my heart glowing

And now I shall sleep again, cold and icy.
I hear the flute
Its joyful melody.
I see my wife
Our daughter Melody.
I think of my wife
And her full of life
With our daughter, Melody.

I hear the crash
And then the tuba.
I hear naught else
It's just the tuba.
I think of the life
Who destroyed my wife
Our cursed daughter, Melody.

I hear trombones
It's getting better.
I see the day
It's getting brighter.
I think of the life
That destroyed my life
My blameless daughter, Melody.

I hear the horns
Their far-spread high-notes.
But mostly horns
And mostly low notes.
I think of my wife
And the love of her life
Our damning daughter, Melody.

I hear the trumpet
The different rhythm.
It has some movement
But mostly rhythm.
It's not the same
But it'll do
My beautiful daughter, Melody.

I hear clarinets
Their soaring melody.
Reminds me so much of
My daughter Melody.
Who came out of strife
To salvage my life
My angel daughter, Melody.
Nothing like this actually happened to me, I just wanted to capture the recovery of someone that this has happened to. If something like this has happened to you, and this is way off, please let me know.
kokoro Oct 31
I first heard your song,
driving through the dry mountains of Arizona.
the horn honking in your song wont stop me
Phoebe.
Your voice wont stop me from driving 1000 more miles Phoebe.
Youre my number one party anthem,
look out for me,
look out for me.
you're not the monster your the doctor,
serenade me with your song Phoebe.
Verlecia F Oct 31
what happen to him
did he go down with the ship
or was it, someone who, got over on him

they say he was, a good guy
as nice as, they come
and everyone liked him
and he liked everyone

was he taken down
by some bad guy
who just did it, for the fun-of-it?
or was it, illicit monetary funds
that was involved

Everyone was upset
and some even cried
the day they hear
Mr. Vic Tim
could have died
Verlecia - He, is every VICTIM in the world be, he or she. Be the victim big or small! you or me . Bad or Good A Victim is a Victim

you ask if i am a victim - yea- yes I am - and if took a lot out of me to say the truth!
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch
Bang in the first measure
Came the congenital seizure
Skewing the first invention from scratch.
The campfire skied its sparks
Into the ghost-ridden void,
The skittish tchotchkes
Of paradox and entropy
Quirks and tics as dumb as bricks
Until a headstrong mongoloid
Started groping for rhythm
In the quavering spasms.

Oh, but it was a jawdropper
A bang-up tour-de-force
A horrorshow time-warper
Of Luke and Kirk and spice,
The good apple ran the table
Till the old goat hacked the matrix
And the young hawks did their mind-tricks
Of a tessellated cat’s cradle...
And paparazzi made the odyssey
From planets Claire to Z
To dish how cosmic *******
Trysted protomolecule
As the major ghosted ground control...
In all, a very large array
Of bingeworthy groundhog days.
Lukewarm confabulation
Of the smoking embers
From the essential tremor
Ceaseless oscillation
Between good cop and bad copper.

And the girl scouts chorus
With cheeks full of S’mores
“For all of your fables
Of hobbits and hubbles
And sabering at windmills
You will never untie the volition
Riddled into the convulsion,
Nor how the campfire kindles
Nor be one of us.
You will always ***** the pooch
Halfway to the paw-paw patch.”

Nurse Dipso-Etheromaniac
And Dr. Thorazine-Brainiac
Shoved their two-part invention
Cold turkey into the clockworks,
Cleft lip
Fetal eyes
Flipper-fingered
Riddled with the shakes
Cold-shouldered him to another dimension
Where muggles punk ETs,
And their whiskey wizards
Serve up mock elixirs
Not some hair of the dog to undistemper
The secondhand DTs,
His doggo superpower.

Bill Grogan’s goat
(Bam bam bam bam!)
Was feeling frisky
(Bam bam bam BAM!)
Chased three red skirts
Across the galaxy...
“I knew you were one of the ***** boys
But why do your hands shake like that?
They flipper and gibbet all over the keys”
The sour-smelling teacher spat.

And the mean girls echoed
With tongues of acid
“See how they lurch and squirm!
You will never get to the paw-paw patch
You will never find dear little Susie
She will never teach you to hulu
And you will never two-step
With dear old Johnny
With fists of wiggle worms.”

He touched off the fireworks
Torching all your pomp and cirque
In some skullduggery
Of **** and villainy.
I, Dropout
Outcast
Clonetrooper
Mutineer
Hitched a ride north of the watchtower
Where imperial walkers with hooves of ice
Stomped the land flat, and late-blooming
Summer never shakes the phantom menace
Of the winter that is always coming.

Somewhere in the interstellar distances
Of Kantian prairie perturbed by auroras
Like those night-blooming skyflowers
I glimmered back into existence.
I drank with wildings dropped with the dead
And vaped the contrails of the mad rocketeers
(Kid Rambo, Def Louie, Jedi Freddy and Manny
Steampunk Sal and Wig Out Johnny)
But never found sweeter ******
Than the next bridge to burn.
I, callow flamethrower
Of Shiva, the destroyer.

Marshall Gunpowder Jehoshaphat Miller
The bad apple of the force
Hatchet-faced and porkpied
Dead by ****** suicide
Born again old-schooler,
Packing halitosis
From ossified canon
Skywalked me down.
Gospeled me like Luke
And knee-capped me with a curse
Shame; the oldest mind-trick in the book.
I served out my prodigality
In Ludovico therapy
Which for a half-life, somewhat took.

Headlong into retrograde
I crashed the zero-sum arcade
Fed a quarter into the supercollider
And with some crazy tic of the wrist
Spooked the ball’s trajectory
So it champagne supernovaed
And spat out the shabby ghost
Of a birthright lottery.
Thirteen golden statues.
But as the digits flipped
And the mission crept
As it does to one and all
Faster than a cannonball
I flashed back to renegade.

And the made girls chorused,
With cheeks full of Botox,
From their partial-view suites
And partner-track perks
Of bottomless cups
Of shut the **** up,
“You nearly made the grade, you!
But then you had to mouth off job-hop Hulk
Out, which finally betrayed you.
Now Security Guard Miller
Will escort you off the premises
For a reckoning with your nemesis
Regret, the silent killer.”

True, for a season I was a bluepilled moon
Marooned with space junk
And cypherpunk
Doomscrollers
Of deadend might-have beens,
Like the lunar sonata’s
Primal whisper of futility,
Until it tripolars
Into ultraviolent agitato
And hits escape velocity

Now loosed from orbit of the Goldilocks planet
I tumble through space in dumbstruck rapture
Of hurricaned stars and thundercloud nebula
I tremble in the thousand-parsec stare
Of the headless horde of dark riders
That stampede the stony hobbits,
Through the looking-glass of lightyears past
I see monstrous galaxies in ungainly copulation
Blushing Hiroshimas of atrocious release
And multi-sunned planets where misbegotten
Beings shudder into self-consciousness,

While I drift toward the event horizon
To be gobbled into the enigma
With a little gasp of gamma
Hammerstricken wires frisson.
Where the eleventh measure of the first invention
Counterclockwise corkscrews
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch,
After a very long array of groundhog days
My skeleton crew bunch into alignment
Like that hunch of spooky entanglement
Or just possibly like that eternal dissonance
Quelled by a quanta of true arrogance,

In a clockwork grotto
Grows a chrysalis F-sharp
Where fingers at last Goldilock
Into queasy equilibrium,
To my dumb surprise
The dark sac butterflies
And there is Susie
A little tipsy
On hard compatibilism,
With hips of pulsars
And hands of auroras
She hulus like the time warp
Not spasm without rhythm
But otherworldly vibrato.
On the infinitely big and infinitesimally small, and deeply personal.
Verse 1:
We try to find answers looking towards the sky
All wanna know what happens when we die
As much as I'd like to sprout wings and to the heavens fly
Ain't no halo reserved for me when I say goodbye
Long ago I once believed that lie
Misunderstanding losses
Asking why
Demanding a reason for grief in my heart
Only heard silence
Faith fell apart
Sometimes asked why it's so hard to believe
Say maybe the rest of the world is just too easy to deceive
It's true when they tell you ignorance is bliss
Truth isn't what we want to hear so instead we just dismiss

Hook:
If dying before I wake
Give the darkness my soul to take
Please do not cry
Know that I
Forever am thankful
If I die while I'm asleep
Soul I give the reapers to keep
I'm ready for my funeral

Verse 2:
Beneath the starlight contemplating life
Restless heart beating the question why
Wondering in Morse code if I will be all right
Stuck wandering line
Between wrong and right
But don't trust the route everybody else takes
Hear outside opinions about decisions I should make
In the end do what's best for my heart's sake
Eyes and ears will have to learn from my own mistakes
No matter how high flown eventually I'll fall
Mind is in a race with my feet
Both seem to hardly crawl
Below surface of my skin have trouble dealing with it all
Hanging hopes above my head until I crash into a brick wall

Hook x2

Outro:
I'm ready for
For the funeral x3
I'm ready for
Ready for it
Ready for the funeral
Love this song let me know what you think if you have heard the original song
Can we go back to a time when music was good?
When songs were made for quality over quantity,
And words were so meticulously chosen to make  a bar so elegant,
and eloquent,
And mixed so perfectly with the music that it felt nice on the ear drums

Can we go back to when words held weight?
To when diss tracks were 5 minutes and 13 seconds long?
That made the two coasts split even more than just distance?

Take me back to when, rnb actually put people in their feelings,
When you can communicate through music,
And stories were told through rhythm and lyrics.

When every problem became a waterfall that shouldn’t be chased, and a “scrub” was added to the slang dictionary.

When album of the year was actually worked for, and the winning album was not just for songs sung over,
When music videos were good, and not filled with air bending, and **** shaking,
Less sampling,
And real story telling,

Can we steer away from killing bill, and focus on being at your best?
Or being serenaded in candy rain instead of hearing what youngboy says?
Can we go back to a time when music was good?
Because this, this is no where close where it once stood
Everyday, I stay so faded.

**** the pain, **** the hatred.

Life's insane, barely made it.

Cross my path, and I'll take it.

Don't you lie, don't you fake it.

Lost the game, feeling naked.

I'm to blame, time I wasted.

I'm to hang, when I face it.

Shoot the brain, living basic.

Never change, want to break it.

In a cage, segregated.

Full of rage, overrated.

Problems rain, complicated.

Stay the same, intoxicated.

Take your aim, concentrated.

In a grave, situated.



If I die, terminated.

To the sky, inspirated.

Ask me why, medicated.

So why try, obligated.

I'm that guy, hibernated.

Intertwine, suffocated.

Apologize, irritated.

Energized, calculated.

Dramatized, domesticated.

Hypnotized, captivated.

Mesmerized, educated.

Naturalized, regulated.

Recognized, discriminated.

Vandalized, motivated.

Fertilized, impregnated.

Terrorized, infiltrated.
I Bape, I Bape, I Bape...

It zips all the way...

I Bape, I Bape, I Bape...

All they do is hate...

I Bape, I Bape, I Bape...

When I need an escape...

I Bape, I Bape, I Bape...

Hard to say the words that leave you astray...

Verse 1

From lost to fate...

So, I Bape, can you relate?

Or is it hard to say?

“I Bape” now I’m paid...

On top I stayed...

Got to take time to contemplate...

At a higher conscious state...

It’s my world so let me demonstrate...

All the love this present moment takes...

To lay a waste what they try to dominate...

Leaning against a gate...

Meditate,

And try to emulate...

The image others couldn't create,

out of formless shapes...

My heart aches,

To crime, my life's at stake...

Might be too late,

But yet I still illustrate,

A ****** interstate...

Life flashes before your eyes, and then life leaves empty space...

So, I pick up my pace,

Before my life goes to waste,

But today I Bape, because I can’t face the facts that lie beyond the grave...

Chorus

I Bape, I Bape, I Bape...

It zips all the way...

I Bape, I Bape, I Bape...

All they do is hate...

I Bape, I Bape, I Bape...

When I need an escape...

I Bape, I Bape, I Bape...

Hard to say the words that leave you astray...
The song slapped and had to share it with my Poetry Page. Shoot out to all my music Professor at College Of Southern Nevada
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