Musical Musings

As you cry in silver rings and pose
In a second you’ll be high and in the clouds alone
I never thought I’d see the day
But I see stars around your face
Just like we’re in the movies and you’re scared…

~*~

Music comfortably pouring in my ears

Of dulcet lullabies and scratchy guitar riffs

.

Keeping me warm, tones ever so familiar

Like an oversized threadbare pastel sweater

.

Like stirred english breakfast tea with no sugar

Like a burst of drizzling rain in the middle of summer

.

Like pleasant catnaps, huddled under soft covers

Like ocean waves cresting on coastal barriers

.

Like million-dollar paintings over the moon’s craters

Like a necklace of stars, quaintly twinkling as it scatters

.

Like fever dreams, syrupy and floral, quinine waters

Like a springtime frolic spent floating down winding rivers

.

Like nightmares and cold terrors and peter pan nevers

Like forgotten phantoms left faded for a lost lover

.

Like all the nostalgic memories still keeping me together

Like one existence that’s forever changed for the better

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Tranquil music that feels comforting, familiar, and safe

And when everything’s simply too much, it’s my only escape.

~*~

Step back, I can’t believe
Do the math, the sky will fall anyways
Trust me, this is a blessing and a curse
This much I can’t deny…

Spares

in x’s and o’s

and little shows

and softness that

makes me shiver

.

the bloom is sent

directly to my heart

like a vital sign

and verdancy delivered

.

in you’s and why’s

and quaint smiles nice

you’re a taker, not a giver

.

but when i’m left

with nothing else,

i find that you always

have something

for me left over.

luna cielo

for there never was

and never will be

a finer vagrant soul

to poetically allude me

than the billows of notes

that fall from your shade

and the stars in your lips

to sing a thousand serenades

dear, if only i could compose

about all my woeful throes

in lights enchanting as yours

no word a wasted recourse

and the aesthete that lies

beneath restless amber eyes

will dream up a promise

for fallen eternity’s premise

where the universe spins

as relentless time should be

and no whispers of parallels

between the lines of you and me

i’m quite dizzy from the sun again

but i’ll close my hands, count to ten

and wait against such fragile hope

that you’re the sunrise to decode

so why do i weep, ever still?

in the midst of my bedroom floor

only bare remnants remain, until

a voice paints a distant nevermore

of faithless keep, an endless rue

tomorrow’s heart, nor i nor you

southern nights, quaint afterglow

the days pass on as we’ll quietly go

i may be weary, yet do not think

i’ll give up when i’m on the brink

let’s chase the wind, and we’ll ascend

to an everlasting paradise we can spend

for there never was and never will be

a finer valiant soul to poetically allure me

than the muse of the moon and billowing notes

that fall from your shade and the stars that you wrote.

for the future hearts

Shake until we move the floor
What are we waiting for? Let’s go
I’m tired of being ordinary
Don’t care if there’s people staring
I’ll rely on your strength to carry me on…

~*~

possibilities

on my side

complexities

once defied

.

jumping off

the rooftop

i’ll fly before

i can ever stop

.

hiding no more

navigating this

communication

into better places

.

move again before

i give in, taking the

long way…i promise

to tomorrow’s today.

~*~

I’m not invisible like you
Next time things get a little messed up
I’ll shine, but I’ll never be see-through
I’m fine just trying to wake the rest up…

aseru

loud vivacious fireworks

and soft iridescent bubbles

little fugacious memento mori

serendipitous whimsical illusions

that i quietly wish to keep eternal

yet when it fades, only melancholy.

rain, rain, don’t go away

i’ve written

a billion words

for the rain

one for each

raindrop that

falls down again

.

drenched in

poetry, chilled

to the bone

neutral weather

in rhythmic

diamond tones

.

hole in quaint

heart, and rest

for the weak

and solace and

comfort is all

my skin seeks

.

i’ve written

a billion words

for the rain

hoping that each

one makes it

fall down again.

Weekend Hymns

“If you call me at all, don’t tell me that I’m ordinary, ’cause I won’t be passing you, please don’t leave…” serenades the familiar strains of a soothing voice, interlacing delicately with the quaint glassy chords of a softly-strummed guitar, and dissipating behind the skeletal mist of the hazy whorled coffee smoke. Spongy traces of a cold jelly roll melt and shiver in my tongue, leaving traces of a sweet sensation to tease these anticipating taste buds of mine. On my right side lays a Fantastic Beasts colouring book opened on a page of Newt Scamander’s luggage, abandoned coloured pencils scattered everywhere, and a half-finished unwritten postcard with vibrant pastel shades complimenting each other in mild, careful strokes; and on my left side a battered notebook overstuffed with scribbled papers and a slightly-chewed black pen, waiting patiently to bleed words into blank parchment.

“Turn off these lights, call my name. Don’t talk, just drive…“ Another potent vocal joins in with the tranquil music, rhythmic acoustic strains and deep baritone timbre sending quiet shivers pleasantly down my spinal column. The rain has come to a cradlesong refrain, and, time being, has ceased from thrumming a metronomic pitter-patter against the fogged-up windows. I pause, place a cat bookmark on page 12 of John Steinback’s Of Mice and Men, and take another sip of my tepid milky drink and huddle further underneath my delicate blue blanket, starry night socks rubbing against the creaky bed mattress as I do so. After partaking in such a short interlude, I indulge zealously in my awaiting literature once more, losing myself against the mollifying song and letting my imagination run away and be caught between George and Lennie’s frolicsome bickering and humbler conversations.

“Red and blue and green rabbits, Lennie. Millions of ’em.” George concluded drowsily as the chapter came to a finish, synchronously alongside Jonny Craig’s flourished crescendo of “And baby, honestly these teeth won’t let you go…”, and I thumbed down on the page and set down the book once again, lost in a silent reverie. This day seems to be nothing but a lucid woolgathering, and in a momentary splinter from reality, I am quite unsure which is a fact, and which is nothing more than a mere dream anymore. It left me slightly confused whether I had actually been chasing musicians through a cornfield full of bedraggled zombies in Southern California, or if my grandmother had actually been confined in the hospital after an unfortunate slip and needs three months of bed rest to recover, or whether any of those were even real, not just derogated fantasies of an inured mind in dire need of a proper rest. Perhaps I’m simply tired. I had, after all, been looking for my exuberant nephews for a good part of the afternoon. But this is a good tired, unlike the draining emptiness of a tired stress that I have been beleaguered with the entire week. And this time around, I’ll sleep not to forget the memories. Rather, I’ll sleep to remember them.

“If you call me at all, oh if you call me at all…” The mellisonant sincerity of his lilting assurances envelopes my weary and aching bones tangibly, as if the xanthous stars had personally touched down from the lavender-blotched sky and given me a synesthetic embrace from the gentle cosmos. The final coda of the song falters and fades against the distant monsoon, washing away every worry, every qualm, every cynical thought and nightmarish daydream of mine, washing me away under the horizon’s encore performance of dying sunshine and inchoate moonbeams alike. I breathe deeply and finally close my eyes, listening to the hymn of the rainy weather and halcyon weekend continue to play around me. I’ll be alright. For now, at least…I’m alright.

Nightfall Notes

You remind me of a former love that I once knew
And you carry a little piece with you; we were
Holding hands, walking through the middle of the street
It’s fine with me, I’m just taking in the scenery…

~*~

Residues of a timeline leisurely spent

Promises breathed easy, given to vent

Turnpikes taken and sick forced down

Traded daydreams by the gilded crown

Unexpected rejuvenating fells of shower

Courtesy of an erratic downpour weather

Music humming past veins of a blue moon

Wish I didn’t have to go home quite so soon.

Sleepless in San Diego

Splash over your body while you drown on me
You ain’t seen nothin’ yet
Enter the galaxy of our sober demise
To the young and without type…

~*~

Just slow my breath

With drowsy whispers

That seek nightmares

And wayward kisses

Intertwining graceful

With my quiet jinxes

The ocean steals you

From a painted coast

I’ll retrieve the wind

Tasting your incense

And count the sonatas

In pastels of past tense

Listen to cold promises

Making us both shiver

But don’t hold the rope

Bullets suspended over

Misdirected phantoms

Of our faithless prayers

Arsonist hearts burning

Kerosene in full colours

Dear, don’t be ashamed

Of these tinderbox stars

Ash on your cinder skin

A paper town from afar

Froths of sea-foam teal

Alcohol in warm blood

Confessions and candy

Nonexistent rest flawed

Sundays spent revolving

Match stricken in water

Clocks in a slow motion

In a misleading summer

I won’t lose you this time

As my dreams begin to fall

You’re making me worse

And I don’t mind it at all.

~*~

Don’t believe it’s a never-ending summer
‘Cause they don’t exist
Tied around your tongue in all the rage and spit
So why am I the one falling apart?

Alice in the Garden

lit epiphanies overlooking

the pale peninsula

in entities of naphthalene

parchments of aria

diaphanous dirndl weave

fading cornflowers

embroidered needlework

strewn cool odours

fingertips brushed lightly

delicate rose petals

ebullient riparian stream

cascade in intervals

mysterious quiet keyholes

revealing a reverie

never has mine fanciful soul

felt such blithe ferly.