so long did i ignore
the red flags,
i avoided hearing the music
for what it was.

perhaps,
when you’re deafened by love,
you cant hear the dismal chords.
i couldn’t hear the mismatched notes
over the melody.

through broken-down vibrato,
i learned to love your song.
i listened to you on repeat,
until i memorized its entirety.

when i would listen enough,
i could hear the imperfections.
i heard your words,
i grew to hate the music.

The bright sky
kisses my eyes,
I'm stunned
and I can't blink.
Clouds hanging overhead.
And the wind
blows my hair
also brings
the music of nature
like the chirping of a bird
perched on a branch.
Cool and calm.
The green leaves
make me not want to leave here,
the place where I always miss,
life in a quiet village
which many people
do not choose to stay.

It's not about the love or the hate.
It's about being able to resonate.
It's not about the fame, fortune, or gold.
It's about trying to tell a story in a world
where it seems every story's already been told. And don't be afraid to tell us
if you don't understand. We get it.
No one is going to relate to every painting, movie, or band.
At the end of the day, all we want to do
is help you escape.
And if we inspire or entertain you
along the way, then all the pain is worth it.
No matter what the naysayers say.

Music is like a desperate plea,
to slip back into a feeling far away.
Clawing back a forgotten dream.  
As the song fades, the memory fades.
Those Sunday morning's slip away.

Music is the only element
known to break me down,
and remind me of who I want to be.
As I sit here alone, weeping for what I cannot touch
Lost at sea, the somber serenade of time
Washes over me..

Music slips through my fingers like grains of sand,
A finite youth warm in my hands
Taken by the winds to where it needs to be.
The night in it's wisdom, lets me breathe.
A single note travels through my sleep.
The sorrow of this note unbroken, brings me peace.

MOVEMENT I (written to be performed on tárogató, accompanied by acoustic guitar)

"The morn rises o'erhead
The baker bakes the daily bread
The people smell the blooming roses
Happiness in smaller doses

The children go off to their school
And think learning is ever so cruel
But they'll wish these days back
Everyone will wish these days back

Glowing rays crown the apartments
It is, in return, dubbed glorious hence
Though the clouds will later darken
And the air will taste of iron"

MOVEMENT II (written to be performed on baritone saxophone)

"Radiant, glowing
Destructive but invisible
The naked eye suffers
The body faulters and wilts
Crime and agony
Pain and suffering
Endless, endless throes of woes
Breaths draw short
The air becomes thin
The water grows darker
Blackness overtakes
This is the realm of Death
Come to take ye
Who dare tempt his fated word.

You, whose body fails
Whose organs rupture and fall apart
I suggest you tell your fellow man
Die screaming
The alternative is far more sinister."

MOVEMENT III (written to be performed on contrabass clarinet, accompanied by prepared electric guitar and bowed cymbals)

"Bloom (wilt)
Grow (die)
Sane (mind)
Must (cry)
...
Decay (decay (decay (decay (decay))))
And a reminder for the future folk:
Bury your dead far beneath."

When the music note hits
and the rhythm dives you deep
light begins to fade
falling gracefully at ease
down into the ocean void
I rest in peace

For once
he asked the sun to set
to bring his own

For once,
He strummed her heartstrings
and turned her into a hymn

For once,
He dawned on her with
new colors, she couldn’t believe existed

For once,
She melted at the sight
Of a smile … a specific smile
Too beautiful for poets to describe

For once... this might turn
into
“a while”

“I think there’s something wrong with you and that’s okay,” she sings with all her heart
and strums the guitar with my pick.
I’m in charge of the chords,
holding the guitar so
she can reach it where she sits.
We dream it up together, but
I phone it in
I admit.

A, D, E - 1, 4, 5 -
arbitrarily chose.
She keeps it alive with her prose
Just 5 years old
A poet with her eyes closed.

You can be anything you want to be, and that’s okay as long as you’re happy.

Like she knows
The greatest longings of the whole of humanity,

Like she’s peered into the depths of the vast ocean of broken hearts,
And know this is the best place to start…

Like it’s easy.

“It’s okay”, she sings with closed eyes,
and strums the guitar in musical bliss.

And it is. For that moment. For a heartbeat.

It is.

It is strange and scary
To think so,
Still, I do
If I had not known music
I would’ve still known you
Still would’ve heard
The inarticulate whispers of your gown
Still then,
Gentle lashes silhouetted
Upon a sharp gaze

For the moon does not rise and set
Merely for its night
And the Mayna birds sing
But little to boast
For who dare boast but I
Who speaks and speaks, on, on of you

And they tire and groan
Who is this?
'Bet we could flicker a tad bit prettier
A sea’s sigh gentler than this leaf
That lives and lives, on, on in you'
Try then, I say, just try

Every dawn and dawn, they sing
Every dark and dusty blue
What do you think?
Curiosity tilts their heads
And I smile through my laughs
Still not, still not

And they wilt a little
Quietening down for a new show
Before a new sun’s birth
Before another shadowed sky

It is sweet and smooth
The envious mimicry
Of silver and song

Still not though, still not

No music I wish to wade in
Just the touch and touch of her breaths