Poetry competition CLOSED 2nd April 2012 5:09am
WINNER
AlisVolatPropriis8
AlisVolatPropriis8
Page:
The Music
Poetry Contest Description
What is Music to You?
I'm looking for deep writers who are very passionate about music AND poetry. How does it move you? How does it influence you?
The only 3 rules I have are,
1)You can rhyme, but not Dr. Seuss style.
2)No preexisting poems allowed and I WILL check.However, if you feel like your poetry was really good and THEN want to post it as a poem, that's fine. I'll be able to tell by the dates
3)No slang words. This aint rap, yo.
Tips to win this:
(Tip 1)If you come up with a poem in 30 minutes to an hour, you probably will not win this. Not because you wrote it in 30 minutes to an hour, but because perfection cannot be rushed. Most of the time, I take 5-7 hours for one poem.
(Tip 2)You don't have to use 9 syllable words in every line, but don't write like a 3rd grader either.
(Tip 3) Just because you write a 10 page poem doesn't mean I'll like it. You could literally write 4 lines if it gets the point across
(Tip 4) Make sure you have correct spelling. If you don't care about your masterpiece to take 2 minutes to make sure everything is spelled correctly, why should I care?
(Tip 5) If you write something related to the fact that you like ALL kinds of music, you will not win. I hate when I ask people what music they like and they say "Pretty much everything" That's the biggest BS I've ever heard in my life.
I will be going out of town for a little over a month so I am extending the competition for 2 months, that way too, new comers can get the chance to post.
Have a good poetry.
The only 3 rules I have are,
1)You can rhyme, but not Dr. Seuss style.
2)No preexisting poems allowed and I WILL check.However, if you feel like your poetry was really good and THEN want to post it as a poem, that's fine. I'll be able to tell by the dates
3)No slang words. This aint rap, yo.
Tips to win this:
(Tip 1)If you come up with a poem in 30 minutes to an hour, you probably will not win this. Not because you wrote it in 30 minutes to an hour, but because perfection cannot be rushed. Most of the time, I take 5-7 hours for one poem.
(Tip 2)You don't have to use 9 syllable words in every line, but don't write like a 3rd grader either.
(Tip 3) Just because you write a 10 page poem doesn't mean I'll like it. You could literally write 4 lines if it gets the point across
(Tip 4) Make sure you have correct spelling. If you don't care about your masterpiece to take 2 minutes to make sure everything is spelled correctly, why should I care?
(Tip 5) If you write something related to the fact that you like ALL kinds of music, you will not win. I hate when I ask people what music they like and they say "Pretty much everything" That's the biggest BS I've ever heard in my life.
I will be going out of town for a little over a month so I am extending the competition for 2 months, that way too, new comers can get the chance to post.
Have a good poetry.
[font=Courier New][size=2]
< songs from the 81st floor >
rarely reach the ground
a song at night
sung moments before
reaches its way
50...
24...
but rarely
reaches the ground
a song
when sung from the 81st floor
washes out in waves of breath
these songs that seem to sing themselves
aching for ears
for years
reach down
singing a song from the 81st floor
their voices
their words
may sound like these
and watching
watching as they drop...
they drop...
they reach the ground
- - -
< songs from the 81st floor >
rarely reach the ground
a song at night
sung moments before
reaches its way
50...
24...
but rarely
reaches the ground
a song
when sung from the 81st floor
washes out in waves of breath
these songs that seem to sing themselves
aching for ears
for years
reach down
singing a song from the 81st floor
their voices
their words
may sound like these
and watching
watching as they drop...
they drop...
they reach the ground
- - -
Well i play violin and i feel that does a passionate player of any musical instrument dips himself/herself deep in an oblivious obsession or actually sanitizes the sanity in insanity.Music to me is love+musical+expressing myself+spiritual).
Sanitizing the sanity in insanity
The clock pointed 8 that evening
all alone trapped,tortured
and lost in
the laboratory of mind.
The fanatic fairy
drunk in the lyrical
muse of lust
fondling with the violin.
Bow,the satin serpent
stroking itself against the
delicate membranes of the
voluptuous violin
The Silence pierced deep
with each play of the string
stirred the aura of
philosophy
greasing the wind of mind
with limitless love.
Redeeming soul from the
machinery of mind
and its sundry anxieties
the lightening-light-energy which
Heals the stale emotion.
The chime
tuning through
the draped dimensions.
The density of the musical atom
vociferating through the
multiple layers.
Wildest weed to the
blossoming pristine lotus
The inception of
octave
from the razor sharp
high pitch to
the pulp of peace.
The symphony of violin
Recollecting the memories of
misery,pain &longing,
vengeance of virtue
and thus
breaking the prism of mortification
dipping deep into an
oblivious obsession or
sanitizing the sanity in insanity?
Sanitizing the sanity in insanity
The clock pointed 8 that evening
all alone trapped,tortured
and lost in
the laboratory of mind.
The fanatic fairy
drunk in the lyrical
muse of lust
fondling with the violin.
Bow,the satin serpent
stroking itself against the
delicate membranes of the
voluptuous violin
The Silence pierced deep
with each play of the string
stirred the aura of
philosophy
greasing the wind of mind
with limitless love.
Redeeming soul from the
machinery of mind
and its sundry anxieties
the lightening-light-energy which
Heals the stale emotion.
The chime
tuning through
the draped dimensions.
The density of the musical atom
vociferating through the
multiple layers.
Wildest weed to the
blossoming pristine lotus
The inception of
octave
from the razor sharp
high pitch to
the pulp of peace.
The symphony of violin
Recollecting the memories of
misery,pain &longing,
vengeance of virtue
and thus
breaking the prism of mortification
dipping deep into an
oblivious obsession or
sanitizing the sanity in insanity?
What’s even more out of place than myself
Is my collection
Of rare 80's hits;
That defines me like the curls
That can't be tamed
On my priceless Bowie wig.
Take my Legacy, patent it
And carry on the same
I don't like you're band
But I appreciate the name
If you're like every other modern "talent"
I won’t care enough to download you illegitimately
I like music to my ears
Not train tracks down my chalkboard
Only idiots buy you're albums
I hope that you're fulfilled!
Is my collection
Of rare 80's hits;
That defines me like the curls
That can't be tamed
On my priceless Bowie wig.
Take my Legacy, patent it
And carry on the same
I don't like you're band
But I appreciate the name
If you're like every other modern "talent"
I won’t care enough to download you illegitimately
I like music to my ears
Not train tracks down my chalkboard
Only idiots buy you're albums
I hope that you're fulfilled!
i took the idea from one of my poem called Pure of Heart, but i did change it and i like it this way. if i am banned plz let me know and i will understand
-Soul Music-
thump...thump...thump
music to my ears
thump...thump...thump
the beating as deep as a bass guitar
thump...thump...thump
music i can truely get into
thump...thump...thump
music that pounds in my head, heart and soul
thump...thump...thump
the beating of my heart syncronizes
thump...thump...thump
syncronizes with the beating of my music
thump...thump...thump
her heart pounds in my ears
thump...thump...thump
i can smell the adrenaline
thump...thump...thump
i never thought a concert would make her smell so delectable
thump...thump...thump
music and aroma for my soul
the beating of her heart is my magical music
it is heavenly although i am agnostic
-Soul Music-
thump...thump...thump
music to my ears
thump...thump...thump
the beating as deep as a bass guitar
thump...thump...thump
music i can truely get into
thump...thump...thump
music that pounds in my head, heart and soul
thump...thump...thump
the beating of my heart syncronizes
thump...thump...thump
syncronizes with the beating of my music
thump...thump...thump
her heart pounds in my ears
thump...thump...thump
i can smell the adrenaline
thump...thump...thump
i never thought a concert would make her smell so delectable
thump...thump...thump
music and aroma for my soul
the beating of her heart is my magical music
it is heavenly although i am agnostic
Blues and Whiskey
The lights go up
The audiences’ back straightens
As the curtain rises
My strings tuned to
Pefection
I lick my lips and walk
Up to the mic
Ready to take the night
With my song to say
My say to sing
My voice to be heard
In this very place
The audience looks rich
With opinion
They’re eyes deminish me.
Smirking I say, “Good evenin’ gent’s, who’s ready to dance?”
Whiskey breathing soul from the stage.
My attire, my beard acts as the sin
Dazed and puzzled, the Tuxedos wrinkle
As the men sit up, as if in protest
I start, adding a sound to the unrest.
Starting off with some heavy blues
Adding a tune to the riot
Shouts are thrown, as the diamonds
And silk gloves come off.
I continue
I play the bar with a smooth soul
Belting from my guitar
They charge the stage, men of society
Becoming men of apathy
The blues I learned as a kid
Explode from my finger tips
They reach out their arms
Grab for the plug to end this sin
Their bellies betraying them
Holding them back from the end
Trotting back, I go through the riff
Giving the audience a gift
Something they never heard
Back in the Theatre of the Absurd
Pausing from the violence
I stop
Looking around at the audience
Waiting a measure
Waiting
Waiting for treasure
My hand swifts down
And the strings sing
As the room explodes in dances
Dances only done with blues and whiskey.
The Society Men relish in the rock
Relish in the thought of shock
As they see my fingers walk the frets
Glasses are poured, the night is fortunate
To be the at English Parliament
The lights go up
The audiences’ back straightens
As the curtain rises
My strings tuned to
Pefection
I lick my lips and walk
Up to the mic
Ready to take the night
With my song to say
My say to sing
My voice to be heard
In this very place
The audience looks rich
With opinion
They’re eyes deminish me.
Smirking I say, “Good evenin’ gent’s, who’s ready to dance?”
Whiskey breathing soul from the stage.
My attire, my beard acts as the sin
Dazed and puzzled, the Tuxedos wrinkle
As the men sit up, as if in protest
I start, adding a sound to the unrest.
Starting off with some heavy blues
Adding a tune to the riot
Shouts are thrown, as the diamonds
And silk gloves come off.
I continue
I play the bar with a smooth soul
Belting from my guitar
They charge the stage, men of society
Becoming men of apathy
The blues I learned as a kid
Explode from my finger tips
They reach out their arms
Grab for the plug to end this sin
Their bellies betraying them
Holding them back from the end
Trotting back, I go through the riff
Giving the audience a gift
Something they never heard
Back in the Theatre of the Absurd
Pausing from the violence
I stop
Looking around at the audience
Waiting a measure
Waiting
Waiting for treasure
My hand swifts down
And the strings sing
As the room explodes in dances
Dances only done with blues and whiskey.
The Society Men relish in the rock
Relish in the thought of shock
As they see my fingers walk the frets
Glasses are poured, the night is fortunate
To be the at English Parliament
the radios, the media devices
the CD's, the tapes
the money.
the dusty keyboard standing in a corner.
the fingers that hurt
and the ears that don't know
what to do.
it's not easy to steal passion
but I watch the moon set
above an invisible horizon
and think that maybe
there are words
and maybe
there is a stream of notes
and maybe
I can be persistent too.
the CD's, the tapes
the money.
the dusty keyboard standing in a corner.
the fingers that hurt
and the ears that don't know
what to do.
it's not easy to steal passion
but I watch the moon set
above an invisible horizon
and think that maybe
there are words
and maybe
there is a stream of notes
and maybe
I can be persistent too.
How Much It Hurts
I can hear the drone
of the tightened bow
it draws across
the strings so slow
I feel the stinging
inner cold
the music chills
it fills my soul
if only you could ever know .
How much it hurts
how much it pains
I have no worth
no more to gain
the cold of church
take me away
oh steeple high
can I now pray
no time to buy
left in this day
the blue of sky
colours to fade .
Piano help me
with your soft notes
the air of you
it makes me float
the harp of yesteryear
it ripple pools
the diamond water tears
now crushed up jewels .
Just crushed up jewels .
I can hear the drone
of the tightened bow
it draws across
the strings so slow
I feel the stinging
inner cold
the music chills
it fills my soul
if only you could ever know .
How much it hurts
how much it pains
I have no worth
no more to gain
the cold of church
take me away
oh steeple high
can I now pray
no time to buy
left in this day
the blue of sky
colours to fade .
Piano help me
with your soft notes
the air of you
it makes me float
the harp of yesteryear
it ripple pools
the diamond water tears
now crushed up jewels .
Just crushed up jewels .
Headphones
Click.
Slide.
Password: ****
Music on.
Life definition, defined:
Playlists.
Playlist Folder: My 'So Called' Life.
Playlist: Mother, Mother
Song: Shut Your Mouth
Arguement with Mom, defined:
"Mom can you please just listen to me--"
"Listen to you, you're not listening to me. Why should I listen to you, right because you're always right and I'm always wrong."
That's not what I'm saying.
". . .This conversation's incomplete
and I've already seen my own defeat.
And I'm not trying to say that I'm right and you are wrong.
You are wrong and, that's not right.
You blur your eyes while my emotions bleed.
Listen here's my sympathy.
Just shut your mouth.
Just hear me out.
You keep talking 'til I don't know what you're talkin' about.
Just let me speak, there's another side of me.
Don't shut me out.
And don't shut me out. . ."
Pause music.
Back to playlists.
Playlist Folder: My 'So Called' Life.
Playlist: Father of Mine
Song: Love of a Daughter
Father/Daughter Relationship defined:
". . .Don't you remember I'm your baby girl,
how you could you push me out of your world.
How could your throw me right out of your world.
Lied to your flesh and your blood.
Out your hands on the ones your swore you loved.
Don't you remember I'm your baby girl,
how you could you throw me out of your world.
How could your throw me right out of your world.
Lied to your flesh and your blood.
Out your hands on the ones your swore you loved.
Father, oh father.
I loved to leave you alone but I can't let you go.
Father, oh father.
Put the bottle down for the love of a daughter. . ."
Back to Playlists.
Playlist Folder: My 'So Called' Life.
Playlist: My Penguin
Song: Penguin
Love Life defined:
". . . Love like this, is all I want.
Baby we're fate.
Love like this, may come once.
Baby we're fate.
Like a soul mate, you're my penguin.
Baby we're fate, baby it's fate.
Not luck. . ."
Pause before next song plays.
Go to artists.
Artist: Taylor Swift
Song: Innocent
How my best friend thinks of me, defined:
". . .It's alright just wait and see.
Your string of lights is still bright to me.
Oh, who is not where you've been, you're still an innocent.
It's okay, life is a tough crowd.
Thirty two and still growing up now.
Who you are is not what you did, you're still an innocent.
Time turns flames to ambers.
You'll have new Septembers.
Everyone of us has messed up too.
Lives change like the weather.
I hope you remember.
Today is never too late to, be brand new. . ."
Pause for next song.
Back to Artists.
Artist: Automatic Loveletter
Song: Whose Gonna Go
My Last Break-Up, defined:
"I was ready to break up with you just a minute ago, but now looking at you I realize that I could never do that. I love what we have right here. And I can't see it with anyone but you."
". . . You tell your friends it's time to leave
But then you tell me that you see
Something here you can't imagine having without me.
But I can see right through your lies.
The clear glass cover of your pride.
There's nothing wrong with what you keep inside.
I can't believe it happen to me.
Whose gonna drive me home when we're not speaking?
Whose gonna let me know that I'm believed in?
Whose gonna stay, cause I won't if you're really leaving.
I hope you see.
It's truely me whose gonna go.
It's truely me whose gonna go. . ."
Song Ended.
Back to Artists.
Artist: Christina Perri
Song: Bluebird
My jealousy, defined:
". . .This little bluebird came looking for you.
I said I hadn't see you in quite sometime.
This little bluebird, she came over again.
I said we weren't even friends.
She could have you.
Don't you think it was hard,
I didn't even say that you died.
But it wouldn't have bee such a lie,
cause then I started to cry.
This little bluebird sure won't give it a rest.
She says that you may be better than all the rest.
I said No, you've got it all wrong.
If you were somthing special.
I wouldn't have this song.
Don't you think it was hard,
I didn't even say that you died.
But it wouldn't have been such a lie,
cause then I started to cry. . ."
Back to Artists:
Artist: Avril Lavigne
Song: Smile
Happiness, defined:
"You know that I'm crazy bitch.
I do what I want when I feel like it.
All I wanna do is lose control.
But you don't really give a shit.
You go with, go with, go with it.
Cause you're fucking crazy, rock and roll
You said 'hey, what's your name?'
You took one look and now I'm not the same.
Yeah, you said 'Hey' and since that day.
You stole my heart and you're the one to blame.
And that's why I smile, it's been a while.
Since everyday and everything has felt this right.
And now, you turn it around.
And suddenly you're all I need the reason why,
I smile. . ."
Back to Artists.
Artist: Christina Perri
Song: The Lonely
Sadness, defined:
"2am, where do I begin?
Crying off my face again.
The silent sound of the loneliness
wants to follow me to bed.
I'm a ghost of a girl that I want to be most.
I'm the shell of a girl that I use to know well.
Dancing slowly in an empty room.
Can the lonely take the place of you.
I sing myself a quite la, la lullaby.
Let you go and let the lonely in
To take my heart again. . ."
Back to Playlists.
Playlist Folder: My 'So Called' Life
Playlist: The Diary of Me
Song: Diary of Me
". . . I’m poetry, complicated
Simply stated
Hey yeah baby how about you
I was born free
I’m a cell phone hippie
Are you with me?
When I mess up I don’t get up
I just get down yeah
But here I am an open book
Turn the page it’s all the rage
Get a look on the inside
Oh what you get is what you see
Baby you hold the key
To the diary of me. . ."
Same Playlist.
Next Song.
Artist: Britt Nicole
Song: Headphones
My Poem & My Life, defined:
"She gave it her best.
She tried to fit in.
She tried to be cool.
But she never could win.
Her mom says she's great.
The kids think she's weird.
Honeslty she wishes she could just disappear.
Why, why you trying to be like the rest of them.
When you know there's so much more within.
There's only one you,
here's what you gotta do, whoa, whoa...
Anytime you feeling alone.
Put on your headphones.
Love, love's coming through your headphones.
Anytime you feeling alone.
Put on your headphones.
Love, love's coming through your headphones.
L-o-o-ove is coming through your headphones.
L-o-o-ove is coming through your headphones. . ."
Song over.
Music off.
Headphones out.
iPod locked.
My life defined.
Click.
Slide.
Password: ****
Music on.
Life definition, defined:
Playlists.
Playlist Folder: My 'So Called' Life.
Playlist: Mother, Mother
Song: Shut Your Mouth
Arguement with Mom, defined:
"Mom can you please just listen to me--"
"Listen to you, you're not listening to me. Why should I listen to you, right because you're always right and I'm always wrong."
That's not what I'm saying.
". . .This conversation's incomplete
and I've already seen my own defeat.
And I'm not trying to say that I'm right and you are wrong.
You are wrong and, that's not right.
You blur your eyes while my emotions bleed.
Listen here's my sympathy.
Just shut your mouth.
Just hear me out.
You keep talking 'til I don't know what you're talkin' about.
Just let me speak, there's another side of me.
Don't shut me out.
And don't shut me out. . ."
Pause music.
Back to playlists.
Playlist Folder: My 'So Called' Life.
Playlist: Father of Mine
Song: Love of a Daughter
Father/Daughter Relationship defined:
". . .Don't you remember I'm your baby girl,
how you could you push me out of your world.
How could your throw me right out of your world.
Lied to your flesh and your blood.
Out your hands on the ones your swore you loved.
Don't you remember I'm your baby girl,
how you could you throw me out of your world.
How could your throw me right out of your world.
Lied to your flesh and your blood.
Out your hands on the ones your swore you loved.
Father, oh father.
I loved to leave you alone but I can't let you go.
Father, oh father.
Put the bottle down for the love of a daughter. . ."
Back to Playlists.
Playlist Folder: My 'So Called' Life.
Playlist: My Penguin
Song: Penguin
Love Life defined:
". . . Love like this, is all I want.
Baby we're fate.
Love like this, may come once.
Baby we're fate.
Like a soul mate, you're my penguin.
Baby we're fate, baby it's fate.
Not luck. . ."
Pause before next song plays.
Go to artists.
Artist: Taylor Swift
Song: Innocent
How my best friend thinks of me, defined:
". . .It's alright just wait and see.
Your string of lights is still bright to me.
Oh, who is not where you've been, you're still an innocent.
It's okay, life is a tough crowd.
Thirty two and still growing up now.
Who you are is not what you did, you're still an innocent.
Time turns flames to ambers.
You'll have new Septembers.
Everyone of us has messed up too.
Lives change like the weather.
I hope you remember.
Today is never too late to, be brand new. . ."
Pause for next song.
Back to Artists.
Artist: Automatic Loveletter
Song: Whose Gonna Go
My Last Break-Up, defined:
"I was ready to break up with you just a minute ago, but now looking at you I realize that I could never do that. I love what we have right here. And I can't see it with anyone but you."
". . . You tell your friends it's time to leave
But then you tell me that you see
Something here you can't imagine having without me.
But I can see right through your lies.
The clear glass cover of your pride.
There's nothing wrong with what you keep inside.
I can't believe it happen to me.
Whose gonna drive me home when we're not speaking?
Whose gonna let me know that I'm believed in?
Whose gonna stay, cause I won't if you're really leaving.
I hope you see.
It's truely me whose gonna go.
It's truely me whose gonna go. . ."
Song Ended.
Back to Artists.
Artist: Christina Perri
Song: Bluebird
My jealousy, defined:
". . .This little bluebird came looking for you.
I said I hadn't see you in quite sometime.
This little bluebird, she came over again.
I said we weren't even friends.
She could have you.
Don't you think it was hard,
I didn't even say that you died.
But it wouldn't have bee such a lie,
cause then I started to cry.
This little bluebird sure won't give it a rest.
She says that you may be better than all the rest.
I said No, you've got it all wrong.
If you were somthing special.
I wouldn't have this song.
Don't you think it was hard,
I didn't even say that you died.
But it wouldn't have been such a lie,
cause then I started to cry. . ."
Back to Artists:
Artist: Avril Lavigne
Song: Smile
Happiness, defined:
"You know that I'm crazy bitch.
I do what I want when I feel like it.
All I wanna do is lose control.
But you don't really give a shit.
You go with, go with, go with it.
Cause you're fucking crazy, rock and roll
You said 'hey, what's your name?'
You took one look and now I'm not the same.
Yeah, you said 'Hey' and since that day.
You stole my heart and you're the one to blame.
And that's why I smile, it's been a while.
Since everyday and everything has felt this right.
And now, you turn it around.
And suddenly you're all I need the reason why,
I smile. . ."
Back to Artists.
Artist: Christina Perri
Song: The Lonely
Sadness, defined:
"2am, where do I begin?
Crying off my face again.
The silent sound of the loneliness
wants to follow me to bed.
I'm a ghost of a girl that I want to be most.
I'm the shell of a girl that I use to know well.
Dancing slowly in an empty room.
Can the lonely take the place of you.
I sing myself a quite la, la lullaby.
Let you go and let the lonely in
To take my heart again. . ."
Back to Playlists.
Playlist Folder: My 'So Called' Life
Playlist: The Diary of Me
Song: Diary of Me
". . . I’m poetry, complicated
Simply stated
Hey yeah baby how about you
I was born free
I’m a cell phone hippie
Are you with me?
When I mess up I don’t get up
I just get down yeah
But here I am an open book
Turn the page it’s all the rage
Get a look on the inside
Oh what you get is what you see
Baby you hold the key
To the diary of me. . ."
Same Playlist.
Next Song.
Artist: Britt Nicole
Song: Headphones
My Poem & My Life, defined:
"She gave it her best.
She tried to fit in.
She tried to be cool.
But she never could win.
Her mom says she's great.
The kids think she's weird.
Honeslty she wishes she could just disappear.
Why, why you trying to be like the rest of them.
When you know there's so much more within.
There's only one you,
here's what you gotta do, whoa, whoa...
Anytime you feeling alone.
Put on your headphones.
Love, love's coming through your headphones.
Anytime you feeling alone.
Put on your headphones.
Love, love's coming through your headphones.
L-o-o-ove is coming through your headphones.
L-o-o-ove is coming through your headphones. . ."
Song over.
Music off.
Headphones out.
iPod locked.
My life defined.
Pour me a drink,
if we're going to talk
about why I adore it.
Pour yourself one,
and sit,
it may be a while.
My theory is music should take your soul
behind the chemical sheds and beat it
until it bleeds and breathes and you can feel it
in every Radiohead song,
in every piece of James Blake,
when the Manchester Orchestra wraps me up
then strips me
and I crawl around the floor,
naked for a while, in my own company,
spiraling in the mess of their lyrics
and what they meant to me.
Music Man, pour me a drink,
if we're going to talk
about why I need it.
Pour yourself one,
and sit,
it may be a while.
if we're going to talk
about why I adore it.
Pour yourself one,
and sit,
it may be a while.
My theory is music should take your soul
behind the chemical sheds and beat it
until it bleeds and breathes and you can feel it
in every Radiohead song,
in every piece of James Blake,
when the Manchester Orchestra wraps me up
then strips me
and I crawl around the floor,
naked for a while, in my own company,
spiraling in the mess of their lyrics
and what they meant to me.
Music Man, pour me a drink,
if we're going to talk
about why I need it.
Pour yourself one,
and sit,
it may be a while.
Anonymous
I disagree entirely with much of what you said-yet,as a lover of music will still make an attempt-Thank you.
In Floyd's wall
I stumble into you
Insatiable, Un-quenched
numbly awaiting a replicated
Ending.
Again on The Dark Side
Of A Moon where I thrive
and sit nightly
picking and strumming
writing down lines that hum
and make me wise.
A string in your female violin-
I am screaming it Loud
But-Vera has left and There's no one around
When it's really time to get the razors out-
The Pause button gets stuck on a new debt in time.
"Try to See it my way"
and "We Can Work it out"
They are fussing, fighting
yes-I "See It your Way"
Beatles know..then go..and,,
Hello! The Who?
A Quadrophenic Stew
I dwell here-in abundance-
Seeing for Miles-
Pin Ball Wizard, a new fall
reminders-That Still ...
I sit behind green eyes-
And I am small.
Doors are opening
and hey Guess Who!!
and they bring some Zeppelin
and we Idol on through..
Feeling hip and like a hippie chick-
I'm losing my head and need Jerry-
and the rest-alive or Dead-
but I think why is it,
everyone with any thing
worth being heard
is dead?
They , the musical boxes on shelves
begin to divulge their messages and yet-
I do get it, that they only hear you,
if you said it-then died.
And rebuking these theories with Dylan and The Band-
I stand exposed-my soul written in his rhymes-
These are the only times-I feel I am on the inside-
and have fulfilled all my plans-desires to understand-
Again up "Up On Cripple Creek" and America
Burning that God Damn sand.
))))I may have broken all your rules-and I confess-this took about 30 minutes-but hey, I am here doing this because I can't follow rules and my heart and art must be free-and I also regret for your sake-that I am truly affected by Seuss in my writings and musings-as yes, (I confess) to have been inspired by the best. I officially and repectfully withdraw-as I feel restrained and that is no place for music, nor my time, Thank you- I would love you to at least have a look at ""all you don't want"""----signed, Respectfully,
The biggest music lover you will ever read.
In Floyd's wall
I stumble into you
Insatiable, Un-quenched
numbly awaiting a replicated
Ending.
Again on The Dark Side
Of A Moon where I thrive
and sit nightly
picking and strumming
writing down lines that hum
and make me wise.
A string in your female violin-
I am screaming it Loud
But-Vera has left and There's no one around
When it's really time to get the razors out-
The Pause button gets stuck on a new debt in time.
"Try to See it my way"
and "We Can Work it out"
They are fussing, fighting
yes-I "See It your Way"
Beatles know..then go..and,,
Hello! The Who?
A Quadrophenic Stew
I dwell here-in abundance-
Seeing for Miles-
Pin Ball Wizard, a new fall
reminders-That Still ...
I sit behind green eyes-
And I am small.
Doors are opening
and hey Guess Who!!
and they bring some Zeppelin
and we Idol on through..
Feeling hip and like a hippie chick-
I'm losing my head and need Jerry-
and the rest-alive or Dead-
but I think why is it,
everyone with any thing
worth being heard
is dead?
They , the musical boxes on shelves
begin to divulge their messages and yet-
I do get it, that they only hear you,
if you said it-then died.
And rebuking these theories with Dylan and The Band-
I stand exposed-my soul written in his rhymes-
These are the only times-I feel I am on the inside-
and have fulfilled all my plans-desires to understand-
Again up "Up On Cripple Creek" and America
Burning that God Damn sand.
))))I may have broken all your rules-and I confess-this took about 30 minutes-but hey, I am here doing this because I can't follow rules and my heart and art must be free-and I also regret for your sake-that I am truly affected by Seuss in my writings and musings-as yes, (I confess) to have been inspired by the best. I officially and repectfully withdraw-as I feel restrained and that is no place for music, nor my time, Thank you- I would love you to at least have a look at ""all you don't want"""----signed, Respectfully,
The biggest music lover you will ever read.
i am a trained artist
visual in nature
and envy nothing more than
sculpted sound
nothings more abstract
than music
yet felt more readily
try to explain why cy twombly
is brilliant-and
now im an elitist
no need
to explain why
hip hop makes your head knock why
reggae riddims rumble at base levels why
jungle music up jumps that rumble why
rock has become an onomatopoeia
shit,its even silly
to try to say why
A-U-M can return to eternal corriders
any vessel that vibrates
non representational painting can
(to the initiated)
quantum leap communicate
and even kiss the intellect
but music can make you dance
i have stacked cannonball for battle
and faced every fear with eyes focused forward
and ill tell you as firmly as any stance
that nothings more heroic
than a man forced to dance
visual in nature
and envy nothing more than
sculpted sound
nothings more abstract
than music
yet felt more readily
try to explain why cy twombly
is brilliant-and
now im an elitist
no need
to explain why
hip hop makes your head knock why
reggae riddims rumble at base levels why
jungle music up jumps that rumble why
rock has become an onomatopoeia
shit,its even silly
to try to say why
A-U-M can return to eternal corriders
any vessel that vibrates
non representational painting can
(to the initiated)
quantum leap communicate
and even kiss the intellect
but music can make you dance
i have stacked cannonball for battle
and faced every fear with eyes focused forward
and ill tell you as firmly as any stance
that nothings more heroic
than a man forced to dance
Music can not simply be defined quickly.
You can put in as many words as you like its not going to it justice
poetry and music are similar, not the same.
Its more then just a few words put together.
Its an art.
Music is for the soul.
It speaks where words fail.
Listens when no one hears.
Music can make you cry make you smile.
Different tones make your body do certain things.
A good bass kick you can feel in the pit of your gut.
A pleasant voice can give you goosebumps.
A mixture of sung words can make you think.
Make you feel, make things seem "in perspective".
Music is just noise with a couple of words.
Its a feeling, a voice, an action, a meaning.
You can put in as many words as you like its not going to it justice
poetry and music are similar, not the same.
Its more then just a few words put together.
Its an art.
Music is for the soul.
It speaks where words fail.
Listens when no one hears.
Music can make you cry make you smile.
Different tones make your body do certain things.
A good bass kick you can feel in the pit of your gut.
A pleasant voice can give you goosebumps.
A mixture of sung words can make you think.
Make you feel, make things seem "in perspective".
Music is just noise with a couple of words.
Its a feeling, a voice, an action, a meaning.
