Floating on a rhythmic sound,
wordless notes making air profound.
Melodies and cords can confound
lonely souls caught in their surround.
A simple honesty I’ve found
within each beat so slyly wound
in passion’s tether; wrapped around
liquid music in which I’ve drowned.
Such joy to feel my body dance.
Every beat creates a chance
to redirect some age old trance
that claims each year another lance
and calls its victims happenstance,
but never gives a second glance
when lonesome hearts find resonance
within their own subdued romance.
My molten heart beats out its wound,
supporting life still too untuned.
Daring rhythms have me marooned
within a truth I’ve not assumed.
Why do I feel myself so doomed
if I must live my life resumed
now I have witnessed tones untombed
and wilted melodies regroomed?
Music frees a soul caught by blue
and helps it see the world more true.
I want to play along with you
no matter what you’re going through
the way that good friends often do;
perhaps discover something new
like how to catch the morning dew,
a magic drink said to renew.
I’m tired of dealing in words.
I have been making them my swords,
within a house of falling cards,
with no future to move towards.
I want to leave behind the hoards
who keep declaring their own lords.
I want to forfeit all rewards
and find release within your cords.
Echoes return from unknown ends,
a secret mystery time defends;
still what we hear often depends
on what our hidden past contends.
We live our lives as fear commends.
Our thoughts get locked inside our trends.
We strain out sounds until life lends
some credence to what logic sends.
Some pay one thousand for a frock,
yet never sweep their own front walk.
They crave a life without tick tock;
all fighting over private rock.
I want to dance beyond the talk,
and take a chance beyond the squawk,
reorganize the human flock
to recognize a fledgling hawk.
Ego is hard to understand.
Each lonely world caught up in sand,
endless currents and complex strand
fearing new routes that find no land,
and feeding truths that sometimes band
within illusions darkest hand.
I crave a life much more unmanned
to challenge what my past holds grand.
Every so often we meet
a person who fills us with heat;
we sense rhythms we can’t repeat
and inspirations they complete;
that’s when we crave our lives more neat,
please bring our visions to our feet;
but life’s no ordinary treat,
containing pains all too concrete.
I’ve writ until the final strain.
I’m not quite sure what thoughts remain.
I’m never sure what poems gain,
yet still I love their lost refrain.
I know they’ve taught me to retrain
my thoughts to feed on living grain.
I hope that humans can live sane.
Life’s dance a salve to sooth their pain.