Tag Archives: music

Silent Films

For all I know, the best is over
And the worst is yet to come
Is it enough? To keep on hoping
When the rest have given up?
And they go…

~*~

Set the tone to soft sepia and watch me come to life

Like my favourite vintage movies, but silence is optional

I hate to mouth the words but I know that I’m right

And it’s better than to face the music composed in your journal

What you see is what you get, but it’s more than it seems

Amid skylines and downtown fiction, stories of nameless streetcars

I’m waiting under an umbrella, seeing neon signs in rainy grey

Until your clicking red heels arrive to light the pavement up

For the film is never complete without a dazzling star.

~*~

I hate to say I told you so
But they love to say they told me
(Throw me into the fire
Throw me in, pull me out again…)

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Stressed or Sad (and Turn Out the Lights)

I brought a knife to a gunfight
I brought my words to a fistfight
I brought my hell to you
And now the boys are back
The boys are sad…

~*~

Let’s talk it it out and let’s talk too loud

And spare our breakdowns for the times it’s not allowed

Deprived of oxygen and choked off to sleep

But I’ll stay awake with you, I guess it’s what we need

‘Cause I may not be the best company but I know a thing or two

About being selfish and pretending to be a happy blue

The clever words and rhetorics make us laugh half to death

Drowning our worries in coffee until it’s dangerous to our health

Because it’s times like these when bitter tastes best

And the yonder moonlight is too delicate to get any deeper rest

But I’ll draw some stars and you can paint them in embers

With what’s left of the sky, we’ll write about what we can remember

We’ll scream about our addictions like loose patients in an asylum

Of the southern boys and houston beats until we’re both tired and dumb

I’ll sing a song out of tune, and your echoes fade to shadows

This is the art of somniphobia, we’re good as we are not tomorrow

Tonight we’ll starve the nighthawks and dehydrate the nadirs of melancholy

Until the petulant sunrise glowers at us for being too damn noisy

We were never meant to stay high in a world that’s not designed for the broken

But let calming music glow in your bones, we’ll be entertained until then.

~*~

You’re so cold
I’ve got to know what made you so
Scared to be alone?
I’ve got to know who chilled your bones
That wasn’t me…

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the art of art

i am you

i’ll play a tune

to sing of sunny haze

and cloudy gloom

.

you are me

you’ll write a sonnet

to speak of fireflies

and underground moments

.

i am me

i’ll paint a picasso

depicting stained hearts

and abstracted souls

.

you are you

you’ll orate a speech

declaiming of eloquence

and casual vernacular street

.

we are we

and we will forever be

immoralised from art to poetry

faded all the way to infinity.

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Shades of Blue

If I do what I came to do
I’ll break through in shades of blue
In red and gold, the lights
Will flash and strobe
And I will finally know
This is my home…

~*~

the taciturn rain,

sometimes quiescent drizzle,

sometimes clarion storm

reminds me of turquoise memories

.

of electric glitter nail polish

shaded onto fingernails

pointing in the wrong direction

and chipping at the edges

.

of hair that looks like clouds

but coloured blueberry-slushie sky

and is iridescently sweet

like a gloom boy’s laughter

.

of sulky mp3 players

singing sempiternal distractions with

symphonies of dizzy dreamers

and skyward soul collisions

.

of apathetic faded scarves

wrapped around breeze-bitten necks

subtly referencing a beloved one

of the same jaded violin notes

.

of self-made backpack straps

a final flicker of glimpsing hope

before cosmic turns infinitely invisible

and footsteps cease giving chase

.

of cerulean paint peeling off bus seats

revealing a dull sheathe of grey slate

of wailing sirens intertwined with alarming red

of the ocean navy pen composing this poem

.

of the sky and the sea, melting horizon’s clarity

stark in mindless scratches adhering to scarred skin

the taciturn rain, so quiet, that cobalt eyes never noticed

coldness ceased falling, as blue memories caught up with me.

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insignificance

You’re losing your light
Everything that was yours
Just does not exist

So don’t even try to say
Sorry for the things in life that
You might have missed…

~*~

i quietly wonder

if i had done anything

wrong to reclaim

another faultful star

.

as i stare outside the window

cascading past endless stretches

of worn paved-roads

and vast fertile landscapes

.

and everything looks transiently gargantuan

.

but i momentarily glance

at the empty bus seat next to me

and i feel rather small again

.

flimsy music in my ears

speaking of infinite sentiments

and i’m disenchanted again

these mellisonant voices are enough

they have to be enough

.

to keep my wandering mind

company against the ephemeral madness

.

i flick my red lighter open

and hold it close—but not too close

to my dying pen; wondering, for

a moment, if the same trick could revive

my spirits like the stuttering ink,

tempted to burn my flesh back to life

.

but i merely stare into the flame—

flickering unsteady still—and blow it out

so it doesn’t have to be lonely

as my heart is right now

.

as i travel from small city

to smaller town, i wonder where

all my friends are right now

how they are all doing

what they are doing

.

and if they’re all having fun

without me.

~*~

Sometimes they say this should
Feel something like fire
‘Til it burns you and you can’t
No, you can’t remain the same
Stay the same, although you know
They say this should feel something like fire
No, I can’t change…

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third time’s the charm (when you’re lying to yourself)

finished finished finished

did my unfulfilling day’s work

afternoon reduced to chains and shackles

dragged like fingernails into the dirt

sweating sweating sweating

baseball caps melting in diligence

and left to suffer insufferably

under the severe heat and silence

aching aching aching

temples snap like rubber bands

not in the mood for smiling

i wish my headache would understand

.

static static static

music reduced to scatters

dragging deluded spirits further

into abyssal underwater

pacing pacing pacing

the zebra crossing inch by inch

hoping that screeching tires

would run me over like roadkill

waiting waiting waiting

for the tears that never come

frustrated and sedated

feeling betrayed by the sun

.

tired tired tired

to the very frayed nerves

a day’s worth ticking down the clock

each hour a penitence served

flinching flinching flinching

at the blood that whispers taunts

set me free and let me be

let sharp edges be your miscreant

broken broken broken

by the stress that’s making out

with barbarous depression

and violent-red lies heading south

stop it stop it stop it

but i’m too numb to even protest

i’ll just fall back into a devoid oblivion

and let my weakness take care of the rest.

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liveshow

the thrill, the chase

each funny face

intense exhilaration

i want to embrace

the energy i take

every breath until

i jolt and awake

and i start to feel

excitement like a veil

scream ‘til i’m pale

cut through the shears

but no pain, no tears

every one second

is something to miss

in sweat and high

of this endless bliss

each blending song’s

memorised by heart

learn to chant along

it’s a delicate art

the pushes and shoves

good fun in the pits

moshing boys and girls

with wide smile teeth

the sheer camaraderie

everyone’s a friend

obsessed and possessed

to the very departing end

the joy and the love

when i know i’m alive

actual souls on the stage

giving warmth inside

the feeling irreplaceable

and satisfaction gained

tired and emotional

but it’s all fucking worth it

the constant aching relentless

from watching behind the screen

but with hopes rather dauntless

that someday i’ll be joining the scene.

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Broadcasting Live From The Seatbelt

Come one, come all, you’re just in time
To witness my first breakdown
‘Cause there’s a mile gone
For every minute passed
When I’m stuck in this town…

~*~

For every minute I count at the tip of my jaded palm

Makes me believe that I can actually give a damn

Third time’s the charm, but the thirtieth’s just tiring

I’ll save my breath for the holidays I won’t be taking

.

Change the radio station when nothing good’s ever on

Witness as I crash my car high on the beat of a breakdown

Just to make the news, just ‘cause I’m fucking bored

At least something exciting happened in this deadbeat town

.

But I don’t need a doctor, and I don’t need more pills

I’m not crazy, just feeling sorry that I don’t know what to feel

Passed out from the traffic fumes, stuck in my head for hours

Wishing I had better hair, wishing I had superpowers

.

And I’m not coming clean, what else is the reason now?

Dreams don’t come for free, especially not in this late hour

My stereo’s playing the greatest hits, I’m so sick of hearing it

I’d drink beer and smoke a drag, but I don’t know when to quit

.

For every second and mile that I waste, wasted off these foolish promises

Like my ragged backseat holster and stained carpet, my existence is a mess

And this just in, the latest breaking news is that I’m already fucking breaking

But I’ll step on the brakes until it stops, until I don’t know which road I’m taking.

~*~

So go on and lock me up, you better throw away that key
Before I find out where you broadcast from
Because your playlist is killing me
I’ll change that station, light it up like the 4th of July
It’s me, I’m caller fifteen, time to play my last request…

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Gloom Boys in Natural Blue

I have candy floss over my eyes, and no one can ever take that away from me.

I’m a double dare away from jumping into the clouds and getting lost in heaven, and even though their motionless lips tell me otherwise, imploring that the despondent sun will burn my frail skin and my charred cape will drag me back down into the ground, I’ll simply fly over them and defy what it means to be human.

For being an angel is not made of mere matchsticks and febriculic feathers, rather, it is the catastrophic sensation of breathing in your existence from your lungs and never letting it go, holding your oxygen in so tight that your chest will hurt, and tasting the very molecule that the wind is built up of, all before exhaling heavily and letting others share the light that passed the very chambers of your symphonic heart, and inhaling that decadent love once more like it’s the only sugar high you need.

I’ll be dancing a hundred footsteps as I reverently play the halo’s mellifluous beat around my head over and over again, but I shall never get tired of laughing and listening, and the glow never fades, the glow never coalesces into a darker retrospect of aspirations and bad habits, the glow is etched at the very back of my confounded head and if I close my eyes and wish a little softer, I can see pastel whispers floating and resonating behind my dreams, smiling quietly as it tells me fairy stories about twill reveries and acrylic oneirism.

Will you tell me that much? Will you beg in blazing yellow and speak in purple hand grenades, waking up again when the water parks detonate and soothing water splashes everywhere? This is not my gloomy lullaby meant to be kept under hushed tones and clandestine affinities, buried under the bones of ‘92, rather it is an everlasting caprice that is meant to be jubilantly shouted from the rooftops, until the nightingales and mynas and bluejays and hummingbirds mimic the colours in my eyes and echoes back a chromatic rainbow to be chased.

Am I not making any sense, or is the semblance of my self-optimistic throes withdrawing like violent ocean waves? It is not their fault, and it certainly isn’t mine. It’s yours. It’s all yours. This nonsensical tirade making me backlash the usual defamation that is my wretched soul, making me passionate for what used to be desert sand and black light, now efflorescent flowerbeds and ultraviolet ecstasy, making me smile and laugh childishly at the most fickle of things like a madman staring limerently into the cornflower moon. You let a playful cyclone into my bedroom while I was sleeping, and it ravaged my closet and spun me all the way to your window until I was sickly dizzy, and you held your hand out to steady me and pulled me in, winking cheekily at the cyclone and returning its breezy grin before waving it goodbye.

Now that I’m here, will you promise to keep me? Airplane conversations and clustered entertainment isn’t enough to leave me amused. Are you laughing at my sadness yet? Are you performing odes along to me mournfully singing about the underhanded depression that makes me mad all the time and fucks my worried flurried mind up when the night is young and makes me go down the long road home? I’m a car crash that you can’t ever look away from, and I can’t ever look away from you. But don’t follow me to the site of the wreck. If your favourite set of stairs is the one up to my room, piece together the trail of love notes I left in the kitchen that say it all, and when you find me, I won’t ever have to let you go up. Let’s be lucky people, you and me.

Amid tantrums and crybabies, you’re nothing but rare. I may not be a warrior and you may think I’m the worst, but I know I don’t have to sleep alone again. So won’t you stay awake, stay awake for me? If you’re singing about la-la-la-love, my tune is more to the beat of a la-la-la-lobotomy. You’re my yellow lovely jealousy, in natural blue and viridian green memories, I’m losing my mood in a late night phone call, shading everything else from silver to pink to hiding under porches and craving territorial phantasms, it doesn’t matter. My common sense is powerless when you speak, and I’m not royal but I’m stupid for you, and 11:11 can go away because I don’t wish for anything else. I’m tired. You’re tired. Let’s be tired together. It’s more fun that way, don’t you think?

I have gloomy clouds over my eyes, and only you can ever take that away from me.

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W i t h o u t · A · S h a r p e r · K n i f e

Honesty sold-out at face value, the price you pay for distance

The depth of your wounds can’t be measured by the doctors in the ambulance

Complicate my rising lungs and grip my falling chestnut hair

Sleep in, I won’t keep bleeding out dreams if I know you’re always right there

This battle is yours to expiate, with every star there is to count

As multitudinous as the silver glistening in your face, an ebony ink tantamount

You’re regressing back to the rejected days of golden senescence

I wouldn’t let go of the only part of my life that makes any semblance of a sense.

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