Music doesn’t make me remember where I was when I first heard the song. None which makes me feel nostalgic. None that transports me to another time.
Instead, it just makes me feel. Like it opens the locks on long closed doors. And a flood of emotions bears down.
If I want to feel light, then Armin Van Buuren will make me dance in joy. A-Ha’s Take On Me is instant tears and a deep ache in my heart. There is music that makes me feel like running away and music that makes me ready to fight. Music that gives me hope and music that evokes a sense of dark ownership.
In my head, there is always music, whether it be some line or some tune, its always present. Silence is rare and in silence, I will find some new piece and add it to my hearts collection. I don’t allow myself to be mired in the familiar and always seek out the new. Because music is who we are. And allowing ourselves to stagnate, or crystallize, is the path which leads to stagnant thought. To zero change with no ideas making it past what you ‘know’ to be true.
Music is the wedge through which I keep doors open. The battering ram of new ways of thinking. It is everything made beautiful. And I have never felt alone when the music swells.
Friday afternoon meeting
I once said, “I have no regrets.”
And meant it
But that all came crashing down one fall night
Then regret became everything
So much so that it eclipsed everything
Until I was nothing
Just an open wound
Looking for anyway to feel
And there again I felt no regrets because I was so deep in regret
That nothing felt different
So with no differentiation
Nothing was the name of the game
Eventually, I began to feel again
And I would say that I regretted the things I hadn’t done
The actions I failed to take
So I resolved to risk
To hold forth my heart entire and burn rather than smolder
And I hurt some people
Because I was still hurting
I just kept the thorns turned inward than out
So I began to regret those actions
So actions taken, actions failed to take
And neither safe
So I became mindful
Tried to be honest
With myself most of all
And I found myself with even more regret
Not of action or inaction
But instead for being unable to act
Constrained by my word given
Once to let my partner dictate pace
And so unable to make moves for both of our benefit
Once to say that two masters cannot be served
And instantly regretting it
It’s what I thought but if life has taught me anything it’s that new information brings new thought
I wish I had that confidence, that ignorance, of youth
That I could enforce my will and bedamned to all other consequences
If I did, for brief moments, I would be happy
But instead, I wage this long game
Hoping that my choices now will lead us well
And not to regret
I will never be as excited as my cat.
She’s just discovered at 10 years old that she loves going outside. But only with an escort.
So I take her out to the backyard and she munches on grass and looks around. She is so happy. She crys to go out and she almost never crys for anything.
Even when she wants into my bedroom, she’ll just sit calmly out side the door. Quiet as can be. Waiting to be let in.
I’ll never be as excited as her but I get to give her that. It’s the same thing I’d do for anyone I love. Attempt to give them or help them get the thing that makes them most excited. Selfishly. So that I can feel a bit of what they feel. Just for a few minutes.
Hands trailing across fabric worn thin
Spinning in hope
Wondering in flat words
When simple isn’t enough
Wanting that complex joy
Of complete pleasures
And feeling so very distant from the possible
A dream of tomorrow
Doomscrolling is the death of creativity.
It sucks me in. And with my tastes there are a ton of poets saying poet things. And rather than inspired, I feel like I’m not going to be able to write. Because they wrote it better. Their personal journeys. Their blood on the page.
My lukewarm days. My pedantic pedal boat. Moving slowly into the certain uncertain.
I’ve bled and cried. Burned and created. But here I am, a product of doomscrolling and too many days stuck without the people who make life good.
I gave up caffeine. More to do it than for any health benefit. Haven’t seen one 3 months in, to be frank.
My cats receive my attention. For both I am either never enough or always too much. And if that isn’t the echo of all my relationships, I don’t know what is.
My problems are small. Even if they are insurmountable. I have shelter, food, and safety.
What I find I have less and less of, is hope.
I used to believe in the undelible goodness of humanity. That when push came to shove, humanity would choose the brighter path. I can’t believe that anymore.
The trump years proved the overall despicable traits which simmer beneath the surface. And the now times have so far proved that this isn’t going to change.
I know that when things advance, there is a backlash. But this backlash is like a flywheel. By the time it stops, our wounds will be so grievous we will either fall or fury. And everything I’ve seen points to fall.
I feel like I’m spinning my wheels. But I know this world. And I don’t have the means to switch tracks.
No spoons, no funds. Just the endless parade of days. Wishing it were otherwise.
The gentle breeze tousles dark strands
Bled thru to blood
Each warble singing joy
Steady hum of distant roads
Leading to lives
This quiet perfection
Marred only by absence
And the fleeting thoughts
That if a choice were to be made
Today would have been a good day
And a lament
For who can be truly content
In such perfection
Without your lips on mine
I find myself in vulnerable moments
Cut open and flayed
Words which seem true
My heart broken
Believing and not believing
Wondering if what
My brain says is true
Possessed with faith in Intuition
Faith in feeling
Faith in perception
To have that scalpel turned inwards
How could I know?
When the lines blur
When I am not strength
Just another person
Wishing to be whole
But what would that even look like
Broken down epiphany
broke, sitting outside a locked car
Wondering how to break in
Keys sitting in the ignition
Waiting to be turned
Hoping the Gang in blue
Passes me by
I swear it’s mine
But what goods swearing when you are brown
Not gonna matter
Sometimes invisible is the best you get
In my youth daring anything in the world to touch me
A promise of bloody retribution living in my heart
How naive I was
Or was it that without anything to lose that life was just less valuable
My life and theirs
Though I still hold no value for lives of those who wrong me
Now, I hold my life valuable
Forced to acknowledge that the path that was past
Is long gone
And any action has deep repercussions
Though I think about the last hurrah
And play a game
One I’ll likely never put my quarter into and roll the dice
What can we do
Shouting from the rooftops
Wondering if we’re heard
Wondering if it matters
Just a silent majority
Our voices hoarse from screaming