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Michelle Garcia Jan 2017
Wrote poetry and decided to turn it into music.

Link: https://youtu.be/BadmCkoPOdE

LYRICS:

You hear me through the silence
Bleeding down the streets
That used to know your name

Can you see me through the fog
That's anchored to your eyes
Oh you can feel me sighing

Take me back to you
Take me back to then
Take me back to midnight
Dancing on the rooftops breathing blue
Like heaven's sin
Let heaven in

Your veins, sweet surrender
Summer catching rain on
Skin that's tasted freedom
Young, but why are we so
Quiet--
You are still my words
When they are left to die
Your phosphorescent smile

Can you love me
When the night holds steady
When my hands are trembling
When our hearts burn lonely

Take me back to you
Take me back to then
Take me back to morning
Dreaming in the sunrise living reds
Like heaven's sin
Let heaven in
https://youtu.be/BadmCkoPOdE
Michelle Garcia Dec 2016
Like the bulls in every existing china shop,
we danced clumsily past midnight.

The soles of our feet sticking
to the hardwood floor of my living room,
twirling, dizzy--
in hopes that if our souls learned how to tango,
minute hands would cease
to spin.

It was holy bliss.
It was the sweat shop
factory of affection.
Our bodies-- luminous in the
palest moonlight, a passerby
might have believed
we were angels.

Even now, as we sit
in the midst of silent tension,
furrowed brows of frustration
with no words left to promenade
out of our jaded bodies,

I watch your chest rise and fall
to the hostile melody of our
fruitless accusations, each breath
a reminder of our dance.

Your soul is still liquid music to my ears.
And as long as it continues to play,
I will stay, the hem of my dress floating in motionless air--
waiting for midnight
to intertwine our silhouettes.
AD Snail Oct 2016
Hear the drums that make up your iron heart,
Hear that thud and clang,
As someone pounds down on it;
Throwing it down on the unforgiving ground.

Listen for that musical beat,
That is slowly fading away.
How intriguing it is.

Only the angels that choose to hear,
Are the only one's that can hear that flawed beauty.
That make up your iron heart.
Feggyr Citack Sep 2016
-on a local beer at a local pub, or
another good reason to speak out as a poet

An angel in an apron offered me a drink.
"Here comes Eternal Youth," she said,
"it is meant to make you think."

     While I drank, the world billowed like a sail.
     Time went crazy, bladders appeared,
     the world's front peeled off like a veil.

Heroes and gods alike were humbled.
Their faces aged, their bones crumbled,
the wind swept away what remained of them.

     With them they took the light.
     I stumbled in pitch black darkness
     and man, from the deep I cried.

And then, suddenly, I knew:
my voice, that's me, I'm here!
I'm not too young to interfere!

     I shouted and pushed up the curtain,
     reflected light cut through the dark:
     the waving sea, time to embark!

My angel again was in her counsellor's role.
"Now sail in song forever," she spoke,
"raise your voice, save your soul!"

     I peered into the golden waves...
     and found it was this magic potion,
     that turned and turned in its majestic motion.

There is truth in wine but there's soul in beer;
and when it sends you spinning, sing, sing!
sing, so all the world can hear!
Astraea May 2016
"When I grow up
I will be brave enough to fight the creatures
That you have to fight beneath the bed
Each night when you're a grown up"

Before I grew up
The creatures residing
Beneath my bed were
Crocodiles swimming
Fearless of the lava
Fiercely bubbling
Across my floor
Each night spent jumping
From light switch to bed

When I grow up
The crocodiles changing
Into thoughts
Incessant buzzing
The fiery lava
Slowly hardening
To form my mind
No amount of leaping
Able to protect
My feet from burning

When I grow up
Will I be brave enough to fight the new creatures
That I need to fight within my mind
Each night when I'm all grown up?



"When I grow up
I will be strong enough to carry all
The heavy things you need to haul around
With you when you're a grown up"

Before I grew up
The heavy things
I had to carry
My bag for school
Notes for filing
Hauled around with me
Spare clothes for changing
When I get messy
Joyously playing
Without a care
Or worry in sight

When I grow up
Bag no longer as heavy
As emotions all weighing
Down on my shoulders
Sentiments receiving
Tending to different orders
Spare faces for switching
My masks of skill
All for pretending
That I don't have a care
Or worry in sight

*When I grow up
Will I be strong enough to shoulder all
The heavy feelings that I need to hold within
My heart when I'm all grown up?
Quoted words are lyrics by Tim Minchin from the song When I Grow Up in Matilda the Musical.
Inspired by this song because it was so much more than a child singing those words. As it turns out they can apply for anyone of any age.
Sethnicity Apr 2016
I watched her write Love on her arms
it flowed like lava as the meaning was felt
ripples of hardened flesh
with hot plasma and her cooling kiss
scratch that one off the bucket list
(codetta)

To tattoo love on my lids
finding you between the highs and mids
when the lights go off you are there
then you reappear
in the strobe and LED atmosphere
All I can do is wish... you were here too
unravel the shutters of my soul (segno)
to embrace you in a place more real
animate my memories to simulate surreal
stimulate thoughts my body can not feel
till my lids reopen to reveal a deck
used to project a black massif sunset
platters pressed with disco tech
soluvum's spun to some rung of heaven
I's reflect; eyes *****, to mirror mystery
celadon mandela murals and memory
a nebula of history (fine)

When eyes see you come (:l)

Below the surface afraid you'll run
yet steady marching to a heart shaped drum
echoing the song of the lord god capon
we've gone deaf to the celebration
Eyes close when kissing to lock in what's missing
maybe to hear the rush of blood hissing
maybe to capture the sound of oceans shifting
maybe to feel the steady rise of hills below our feat
maybe that's why we hum synchronizing our meditation
Maybe to become one symbols like wedding bell vibration
(dc al fine)
She is my York peppermint
and when I bite into her I get the sensation...
death walks among us
offering free drinks
we are a party
where the last guest to leave
is fallen down
and caught
the trees themselves fortell
our fated silences
extinctions as sudden as
a candle being lit
late to the taper
quick to the blade
we are merely guests
in the house
Jellyfish Dec 2015
My fingers touch the strings
everything's connecting
we're not strangers..
The title may seem odd, but for me this is about my guitar. I haven't played it in a while, and today as I did I was reminded why I began to in the first place. I used to always play when I was sad or happy, similar to the way I write poetry now. Maybe I will slip back into song writing. Who knows.
Ambika Jois Nov 2015
I want to be your guitar
Run your fingers over my fret board
Pluck my strings and give me my melodious avatar
Sing to me and play that major chord

I’m feeling your song through and through
You don’t need a plectrum, you’re a born original
Work your rhythm baby, let’s get on the groove
Your fingers are enough to create our music wholly attritional

I will reward you myself for how you release my tension
I will resonate our love song through longevity
You’re a prodigal performer, I can feel you in tune with locomotion
We will move from verse to chorus under no shadow of ambiguity

I want to be your guitar
Let my moans reverberate off your walls
A finer touch for our creativity – a sitar
Let’s Indioul our way through these musical waterfalls
Tommy Jackson Jul 2015
Silver tongued bandman jamming on a six string

Silver lunged frontman

Making their ears ding!
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