A tree falls in the forest,
and it doesn't make a sound.

A man yells in the forest,
and local wild life forms a mob.

A man falls in the forest,
and he doesn't make a sound.

A tree yells in the forest,
and we all run like hell.

The birds fly so high
The fish swim with pride
And forever more
When I look at the ocean and the sky
I think of you
Regardless of the height of the tide

Warm waters catch my dreams
With you in all of them  
I take a nap at the beach
And I never have to worry
For the moon keeps me at peace

I follow the sound of the waves
Melodic vibrations
Decoded by my brain
I can feel your love
Past the realm of reality
This isn’t a delusion
Your love is more apparent than gravity

Hungry.

In the silence,
of this afternoon,
they arrive, ready
to feed children who wait
in nest high above.
Their high whistle dancing,
pierces the soundscape
These mejiros--yellow with sharp white eyes,
Comb through hibiscus bush
Finding a meal
Hidden within
Like  parrotfish
Munching through coral reef,

I sit under tree listening,

Abruptly
The seashells to my mind
Fill with shrill sounds
Of mothers scolding monsters,
A quickening--
Their white eyes dart like fearful
squid flying through
brushy undercurrents.
Underneath,
The small lion cat
Stalks the
Hungry sounds
In the bush

the Hungry looking for Hungry

Certain sounds used to bother me.

Human noises like people breathing drove me crazy – it didn’t have to be a wheeze, a rasp or a rattle. It remained a battle to ignore the everyday sound of normal breathing, indecipherable, barely a decibel.

Another peeve, of course, was people eating, the cacophony of masticating – I flinched as I heard them chomp, crunch, chew, and munch. I recoiled in distaste as they audibly swallowed their lunch.

I didn’t understand why I found the innocent sound of a faucet dripping so irritating. I felt like a monster because I couldn’t control the flash of anger when I heard someone drumming their fingers, tapping their feet.

One word saved me from the lunacy of self-loathing – misophonia – a name for my malady.

I don’t know what it is about labels that turns your torments into traits. Labels are the leash you use to control your troubles. Ever since I discovered I am misophonic, mundane sounds, while still annoying, no longer overwhelm me.

When he wakes, it ends his sound dreamscapes
Profound takes on the world around him
We're all walking through sorrow
& gasping for air as we drown in sin
Today is akin to tomorrow
So he hopes tomorrow doesn't follow
He just needs to borrow some love
So his head can stay above, when push comes to shove

ordinary morning, late, bright and clear
weekend, no hurries, lets stay on in bed

in a flash, thunderous roar from above
mountainuous rock crashing, my mind saw

the skies echoed, rumbling in agony
rumbled and rumbled, on and on and on

strange sinister sound, trapped constant droning
UFO? baby superman landed?

rushed outside: no crash, just clouds in clear sky
rumble, rumble, rumble, man-made or what?

thundering, faint and far, near and muffled
none thunderous as the first rock that fell

then it rained: heavy; a soothing warm rush
droning masked, but strangeness etched, and lingered.

shifty birds, why do you sway so?
on the wind, in the surface of the lake,
            you are a disordered heart
   and yet, you hold?
flightless vessels, what bore you here, so many lives away from home?
if only it were so easy.
you say you will leave like that, leave by the sound of the water.
to the other side of lakes mirrored and glassy eyes showing even less.

leave by the sound of the water.
a charmed life, indeed.