i am a person who commutes everyday with my earphones on. i listen to music and i dance to it. doing what seem to be small jerks to the public but a series of big and grand moves in my head. i was a dancer. but my cat bit my earphones.
i hum the tunes ever so softly only to find out the stares from the people i ignored the whole ride, could hear me. i was a singer.
a silent performer. for the audience of none. and yes, my cat bit my earphones.
i am a person who can’t live without it. i listen to music and i zone in. i cancel all the thoughts in my head and just be. in the midst of beats, melodies, harmonies, and lyrics i was at peace. the maximum volume became my version of quiet. and yet my cat bit my earphones.
the cheapskate in me stops me everyday from buying a new pair even if in exchange i’d have to embrace a new kind of quiet.
the quiet shared by the people i commute with: the roaring engines, the horns of cars following no beat at all, the shouting of the barkers and conductors rapping with no flow. i hear everything. i was a listener.
a loud performance for the audience of one. all because my cat bit my earphones.
i blame my cat everyday for this punishment. i love my cat but sometimes i wish she could pay for it or even apologize for that matter. but i have no choice but to continue my everyday commute without my earphones. ****. my cat bit my earphones.
the thoughts i can’t mute when i commute now screams loudly begging me to listen. begging me to write them down. begging me to finally piece together all the words i know will make sense when given time. i am a writer. i just can’t help myself but think that my cat bit my earphones.
now i am a person who commutes everyday without my earphones on. i listen to my head and i feel it. putting together ideas and emotions that may seem unpolished to me but could be something great to the public once heard. i am an artist.
a performer. for the audience, i’m the one. all because my cat bit my earphones.
I would sing because I'm good at that boy, do I have pipes. but I'm terrified upon this stage all of you looking at me expectantly Part of me thinks it would be fun if not for my parents in the audience looking at me expectantly. I've never felt at ease doing it for them. That open mic keeps standing there posters, stages, coffee shops everywhere but I can't. I'll try anything but this.
I sometimes feel as if my parents wish I would perform like when we watch 'School Of Rock' or 'A Perfect Chord'.
I guess I always thought it would go away when I got older but it's MY choice. I have to decide. will I lift my voice or stay stubbornly silent?
Hard shall be your days Gloom shall be your nights To bring you to that point The point of creation A love hate situation One can't exist without the other No sorrow No creativity Depression more than a companion Pain is your gain Salty tears you shall cry Carry your burden and blessing To obtain your title The title of ARTIST While others admire or criticise Often misunderstood Always evolving Always saying This is my finest work Until your next creation Only free for moments short lived For a fleeting moment in the spotlight A brief moment on the stage
It's time to go on stage This will be the final stand Let us hear Let us see Let his voice sing Make us understand What it's like to be in a cage That desire to be free Let us lose fear Let us find our start Let his voice ring In every single heart
On here I may be new and my views few but make no mistake I have a point to make And I'm here to stay I have things to say So show me some love Or step aside and move . I have found me a platform Where I can perform . I'll write from this podium And use this medium to represent and shine As long as I have the time .