singing in front of strangers
terrifies me to no end, I battle
my runaway heartbeats as they
fly and thud against my glass
chest; I feel the blood flush
hot and livid through my
limbs & search for cool
pillow sides to chill my
cheeks, wondering why the
only sounds I make
whine, how the mind can be
infinitely stronger than the
body how fear can run
through programmed behavior
why telling myself "you wont die"
is never enough to quell my
aching nerves—phobia is the
unswallowable lump in my throat,
the inexplainable fight or flight, the
"no" whispered in every language to
my gullible muscles—one day I will
sever the fear at its root and enjoy
the fruits of my own liberation.

I'm singing a song from back in the old day
I'm singing the song of today
'Cuz time never changes with nothing unrevealed
No matter what they say, time is grey

I live in a society just as all the other ones
I live in the cultures of today,
Cuz time never changes  with nothing old or new
No matter what they say, time is grey

I'm calling on a God, the one from forever ago
I'm calling on the God of today
'*** God never changes, (while) traditions have their phases
No matter what they say, time is grey

I'm fighting a war that was fought many years before
I'm fighting the war of today
'Cuz war never changes, just a day with different faces
No matter what they say, time is grey

I'm dying a death, no surprise we'll all forget
I'm dying the death of today
'Cuz death never changes, with us stands be still
No matter what they say, time  is grey

I'm singing a song from back in the old day
I'm singing the song of today
'Cuz time never changes with nothing unrevealed
No matter what they say, time is grey

Don't date a girl like her.
Because she giggles too much and trusts too fast and it's all because she's been brokenhearted too many times for things that never shoulda or coulda lasted and learned that life is so much better when you laugh things off and have faith in your surroundings-- including the people.
You'll find that she's rainbows, sunshine, and cotton candy. And much like a day at the carnival you might turn some corners to find all sorts of surprises. And some of them will be dark and scary and some will be taste tries of churros and your favorite sweets that you can't find anywhere else in the world.
She's like a carnival because you'll never find her staying in one place too long, but the things you love most about her-- the thrill rides and the people watching and the sponteneity-- it'll always stay the same.
She'll "borrow" your hoodies and your sweats and you'll probably let her keep them because she looks so cute in them while she's all cuddled up next to you. She'll give you massages after a long hard day as long as she can trust that you'll give them back.
She'll sing along to all the songs she doesn't know but be patient and love her shy confidence because she can only sort of carry a tune and she belts it out anyway. If you compliment her laugh and call it cute she'll smile about it for days because she knows it's obnoxious and she's insecure.
And she's insecure about a lot. She's learning. She's learning to love herself and she's trying. But when you compliment her, and when you remind her that she is good enough, it helps her see that she is worthy of trying to fall in love with.
She's trying to fall in love with herself. She's trying to be the kind of person that she even wants to love. And she's not there yet. But maybe you can help her.
Maybe your fearless singing and your confidence and your faith can help her to become herself. Maybe you can bring her our of her shell. Maybe if you let her steal your hoodies and let her tuck her feet under your thighs because she's cold and let her be open about her life..... maybe then, by those small and simple things, you'll become yourselves together.
And on second thought...Maybe... just probably... you should date her.

They sing for him,
Swinging from heel to frail heel,

Growing earth between the ground and,
his casket,

Bleeding love into the air
Like orchids,

Humming,

They rise again
And again their gently swaying busts,

Move the air to and fro,
To and fro,

Intending that mother be comforted,

Intending that her wet eyes,
Smile at new wives, that

though her son was gunned down, the
Rhythm of the occasion,

Brings life.

Dead men dance through my dreams
Singing a sickly song
Telling me that the light is gone
I want to drink down his favorite poison
Help me hold on to those tiny shards left behind
Let the taste of liquor remind me of his intoxicating presence
Dead men with silver tongues singing and screaming in my head
Was the bullet enough
Did it ease his pain

Let's build a world
of laughters
and choral singing
against a realm
of malice
and suicide bombing

© Matthias Pantaleon

"You sounded great up there."
"You totally failed, but I don't want to be a dream-crusher so I'll lie"

Smiles at you when someone compliments you on how you did
"You're lucky that I even let you sing up there, even if you're horrible"

"I look forward to hearing you next week"
*"JK, I'm not coming back again, no way"

I never stop thinking of you,
you always fill up my head.
And not just with thoughts,
but inspiration instead.
This feeling you give,
is something I seek.
It's just so relieving,
anytime you speak.
I love how you sing,
about anything that moves you.
Leaving nothing out,
whether it maddens or soothes you.
Your soul just emits,
an intoxicant that calms me.
And when we touch,
this mood just embalms me.
It binds me tight,
locked in your sweet release.
Then time slows down,
til the silence has ceased.
But during that moment,
I've begun to beleive.
That your voice,
is really,
the only one I need.

the way your hands intertwine with mine

to sing, to dance, to watch "frasier" weekly...

it's heaven and hell in our washing machine

though none could else but mumble and grimace meekly

of one thousand listless summers, lilting

for no other beverage is quite as divine

dancing and singing...