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Dustin Dean May 2018
Found in a rather balmy condition
It was inside such an ornate structure
Where she lived, washed her spirits
Down basins of verity

The glare of mimosa shined
Onto decorative butterflies
And their spirits did flutter
In her rather delicate frame
For there was uncertainty
On where to go?
And what to do?

T'was out of the wash
And into the sun
Sounds of a piano beckoned
From the saratoga valleys
Into darkening mikados
She had found salvation
At a quaint destination
Through communal melodies
From a young collective
Though not all in body
But rather in spirit
They held each others hands
In hopes that their souls
Would find a release
Merry May 2018
Television taught me to talk
Now I don't know how to walk
Unless I'm in high heels

Fed a pop culture diet
I don't know why,
But I think you should try it

Cruising around
In a Chevrolet limousine
Flicking through
The pages of a magazine

Silver screen beauty queen
Cult classic with a classic colt
Shooting up in the pictures
Truth and fiction in the lyrical mixtures

Televised script gone viral
High roller girl in an upward spiral
It's a glamorous soundtrack life
With a soulless soundtrack laugh

Television has all the appeal
So now I don't know how to feel
Nothing feels real
Because I don't know
What real is beyond the reel
I recited this poem at a poetry slam the other night... I didn't place and I disagree with who they instated as second and third but, whatever.
E over c2 May 2018
i play words like my violin
smoothly at times but harsh and rough when i forget how to play
forget what words to use
how my bow slides across
how too much vibrato can make it all sound fake
how hyperbole can make it all sound fake
motifs scattered throughout
taint the sound the words
with familiarity with nuance
with you my dear
there is no hyperbole
no vibrato needed
no need for such accenting
for you make my words
my sound smooth as chocolate from the get go


for i never understood what it meant for a kiss to be sweet,
until my lips met yours.
for i never understood what it meant for a person to be warm,
until my arms wrapped around you.
you were warm to me
accepted me even though every inch of you was scared to
was telling you to back down
and i cannot thank you enough for that

you say that your pieces are scattered
the truth is, so are mine
so lets let two perspectives persist and permit
a love that leaves lies behind and lets lips be
so that broken pieces on the floor can not be looked at as flaws
but as scores
as scars
of a past that continues to be made
only now, every atom of me wants that past to be made with you
but unfortunately my past is cursed. so, lets stay in the present.  
so that maybe our puzzle pieces when put together
present a picture

of us

in our own winter wonderland where the world can stop.
and we can love.
for i've discovered in all of our broken pieces.
that
I love you.
a journey of discovery
Lyda M Sourne May 2018
and your music was the sweetest
to my ears and to my heart

but your soul was the darkest
when people drift apart

minds spiralling down to madness
like an eternal roundabout

and maybe in the end
that's who we really are

people with minds unbound
spoken in the language of
music over black and white notes
as someone who love(d) you, I might not have gone. But as someone who plays music as well, I did. and what a job well done. what beautiful music. you were wonderful. and I'm sorry I will have to write this here instead of saying it to you up front.
breathing the turquoise like lavender,
and sipping the blue summer.
bitter cold clouds glide and morph lava lather,
floating whispers cut by sweet pineapple sunshine.

soon, a moment, now
rhythms ripple the sky like skipping stones
we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

cobalt bass rumbles the earth hungry,
pumps the air with springing spirals
pushing and pulling the senses,
reverberating through cells.

heavy mud humming, stomping
echoes through our atoms dizzy;
balancing tuned body to innate electricity
the fizz of circulating lemonade energy.

we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

strawberry melodies spilling ribbons,
dolphin leaps of the spaces inbetween beats,
lines of colours overlapping,
colliding, mixing, merging, blending
in with the forest.

washing over souls the life fire sparkles
like a clear water cleansing harmonies,
sound waves crashing against inertia.
phosphorescent glow of re-charged love
for the world, for being, animation

flowing through burnt smoky ashes
of sapphire charcoal skies;
dimmed radiation of chlorophyll emerald days.
the smell of salt, dry bark, fluffy carbon mists,
trembling lights softening the eyes'
grip on outlines, loosening lies.

watching the cycles of patterns
tumbling colours through a mill rotating,
and the silence of listening
when the music comes to an end.
Something I've been working on for a long time on and off since 2015.
Colm May 2018
You lead my ears to water
Thirsty once forever be
For it is May and I intend
To make this music mine to me

Forever yours
So is my artist
To will his will
Will ever be

For this exists
In both our minds
In memories mixed
With solidarity
Someone shared and you discovered. But to what ends? Sometimes we never know the degree to which we impact one another, for good or ill. And Lord knows I've been guilty of both such outcomes. But anyway... Play the **** song and put it on loop. (:
your body is an instrument I mastered eons ago, when the stars were young.
it is you I have, and shall always yearn to play.

at my touch, you open up to me; lines of familiar notes upon my fingertips.

together, we harmoniously orchestrate the ethereal music of our souls: a sonata of infinite synchronicity.
the symphonies we conduct originate from the stardust of our souls.

© kalica calliope
Willow May 2018
Once a song we yelled until we couldn’t
Is now just a sentence with an instrument
We whisper from different paths.

Gallons of gas later
Leaves a tune who’s remnants
Is a melody I hum from my memory
Seth Honda May 2018
Flipping through song after song,
The search begins.
A search for a song that will satisfy my ears.
A song that fulfills my desires.
A song that brings my emotions into focus.
Any song.

The music stops.
I sit in silence,
A peaceful silence of blue,
Or yellow,
Or orange.
Nevertheless, silence.

I hear a ringing in my ears,
The silence brings me peace.
The silence makes me feel safe.
It wraps me in its warm embrace as I close my eyes.

The darkness also brings me peace.
It brings the world into focus
And causes my emotions to begin to stir.

The silence is now stabbing my eardrums
As memories begin to surface.
Memories I have pushed down,
Memories of loneliness,
Of loss.

The darkness behind my eyelids begins to take shape.
Shapeshifting to the monster in my closet,
To the one under my bed,
The boy in the mirror.

I lay still.
The boy in the mirror is crying,
Screaming for help,
He bangs on the glass and I shrink back,
I neglect him and his feelings.

I lay still. I try to open my eyes,
I can not.
I press play but the music does not pierce my internal silence.
I can not move.

I stand at the top of a building.
My feet are tingling,
My palms are sweating.
I begin to walk.

I look to the concrete,
It seems so welcoming,
It encourages me.
Approval.

The space between me and the concrete begins to turn a red hue.
My heart is pounding and the concrete calls my name.
I fall.

Not forward,
Backwards.
Back onto the building.

As my back comes into concrete with the roof I fall through it.
My eyes shoot open and I **** up.
The music is continuing to play.
I flip through song after song,
The search continues.

A search for a song that will satisfy my ears.
A song that fulfills my desires.
A song that brings my emotions into focus.
Not just any song.
A song that will keep away the silence and the darkness,
Until I learn how to myself.
September 8, 2018 || 9:52 PM
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