A script for birth - an new revival,
libelled breaks, swollen structure,
a cupboard full of accidentals,
daubs this paragon with stucco:

Glowsticks prance on leveled stair,
canvas origami pads Negeb:
Counterculture's been declared!
'Metropolis' left in riverbed.

A crypt where all is fairly loose;
—deepened, glottal, breathened, size—
Saddled with this torment, you!
—ugly glamour pangyrized—

There's a lot more to fashion,
and a lot more, to forge;
Nothing keeps me in *******,
that would be too awkward.

Chaos
The buzz of constant sound
Heavy percussion beating, beating
My heart that longs for you

The music of my love grows;
Crescendos, at the mere grace of you
Every chord is consonant, never dissonant
As is the good character of your person

Love, like music, is never perfect
It's full of too many sharps and flats
Accidentals. Accidents. Mistakes.
But sound pleasant to the unknowing ear

These mistakes are what make us unique
Different from anything composed before it
For isn't that what love truly is?
A perfect melody only we can share

I sat there, it may as well
Have been a whole day
Cranked up the volume
And heard them screaming at me
"You're an idiot!"
Yelled Bach
"******* quivering little ****"
Mozart shook his head
The tears welled up
But then they stopped
Because someone else stepped in
"Just relax. Close your eyes."
Floyd was understanding
Floyd got me
I floated away from self-loathing
Dropped back into the façade that was
The day
And I grinned like an idiot
Manilow? Yeah, we sang together
Paul and John? You best believe
We're a three-person harmony
M'lady Pink requested my voice
And I gave it to her
I sang loud and out of tune
Because they requested it
And finally, Mozart and Bach
Apologized with their minor keys
And accidentals
Their music emblazoned with the word
**Genius

Let me show you what I see
(nothing too special)
but there is beauty
in between the tiles and floorboards...
and such serenity in the twist of an aging tree.

Just enough to give reason to art
and provide something with which to describe
your fire and water eyes.

Once your beauty is transcribed
let me sing to you my only song,
though it may not be beautiful.

Despite efforts to smooth out the accidentals
and soften each frantic high
it may seem a bit... experimental.

But perhaps,
if you listen with an open mind
and no intention to interpret
it may remind you of spring nights and summer dances
and that smooth chill that rain brings at twilight.

If you would allow it
I would give you all I have.
It isn't very much,
but it can rise to the moon,
like dust through a room,
pleasantly, catching breezes and bits of thin light.

And it can soar straight to the sun,
just close enough to evaporate...
until all that's left is you.

Music changes the way I hear you.
Your voice is a minor scale.
The accidentals are like the different connotations to your words.
Your laugh chimes in my ears in C#.
Your sigh is a subtle whole rest,
the silence swelling into three measures.
Your whisper reminds me of the flutes
in the mid-section of the orchestra.
Your heart beat is the timpani,
beating endlessly.
Your murmurs are the grace notes
right before the melody.
Every sound you make
is like music to me.

A Nation
A collection of accidentals
Born in terror and blood
Whitewashed in anthems and history
A unity now compelled
Even to shed blood
Against your brothers
Trapped in the same monstrosity
Yet many waved its flag
Proudly and foolishly
And the Banner of Love
Left trampled in blood and death.

Desolate
Unyielding notes
Accumulate
Silhouetting umbra
Breaking through
Architectural shadow
Flickers of bloom & bounty
From a sleeping
Satiated bride
Reposed upon
The chaise longue
Softly interlacing
The accidentals
With a final grace note
Before absolute stillness
Reprises

In the end, they had to break into his room
He was dead in his chair, and quite alone
Self-exiled from his family for years
Alone in a shell, silent, and alone

The accidentals of life were cast away:
A coffee ***, a coat over a door
His schedule for the methadone clinic
A note to meet with his parole officer

But the pathology tox screen was clean -
Better than most of us, he went down fighting