Finding A Rhythm

I use music,

depends upon the day,

usually something

upbeat, jazzy, message driven,

something to soothe

my soul,

it is the motive of a rhythm

to move the body,

let the mind follow,

let the whole of ourselves

become transfixed,

designed with the heart in sight.

 

We like to travel,

I

like to travel

go places well beyond

the space I am in,

rather than the physical nature

getting away,

I’d like rather to know

right here, right now,

I can go there, you might come here

in the span of a moment,

in the quiet serenade

of a bluesy melody.

 

‘Talk to me some more

you don’t have to go.’ – Phoebe Snow

 

Something to be said,

without having to find

the answer,

just a listen

follow the beat

listen to intention,

find some meaning

moves beyond the moment,

let’s you settle inside a memory,

perhaps a dream,

a fantasy,

let it take you somewhere

tonight.

Advertisements

Looks Define

When listening to music,

it piques the state of mind,

if in a moment,

we might be inspired,

by a sound, a coined phrase,

a certain lyric,

oh so that’s all just fine,

though,

it is when the voice takes flight,

when while listening,

suddenly I’m drawn to a distant place,

somewhere I’ve never found,

yet the angels do bring me there …

for that single moment,

I’m lost in the world of song.

This Was That Place

Where I began,

a small boy sad eyes

would venture forward

inside cloud grey skies

This was the way I began

while all around me lives

gave credence toward

some manner by which

to understand.

This was when I began

to wonder about where

everyone else had gone,

why the constant search,

what could possibly be wrong

with not thinking too hard,

what is right in my mind,

will fall into question anytime,

they might decide to return.

This was where I began,

somehow I do remain here.

I Chose Joan Tonight

I chose Joan tonight to finish my words,

I was looking for some way to return to where it is

a struggle always ensues

my mind playing tricks on my heart,

that is an organic thing I suppose – trying to ascertain

between logic and pain.

I listened to Diamonds and Rust and watched her life scroll by,

so familiar to us the fans, so unfamiliar to anyone who didn’t

want to know just how easily words could define our lives.

I’m in tears right now as I continue to try and understand

just what it is I missed in my life, where it is I might go in the morning,

if that is a place that still welcomes this aging body.

Diamonds and Rust

These are the people I remember

I listen to a certain melody to bring me somewhere,

need to step out of where I am,

perhaps an escape,

one might call it a sojourn,

only works when I can find my right rhythm,

my beat, my way of departing from my real place,

into that world of imagination.

I use music to get me there,

but it can take a lot of hours,

just like the many days that have passed,

those that I recall when the words and tones of music

help me return to that place,

cold or bitter with the pain of my reality,

I can still find myself there.

I listen to music to bring me home again,

to that place we’re only supposed to go when we are ready to be there,

I suppose it is like a journey to another time,

that imagined pedestal too high to climb.

I have my music as a sort of blanket,

that one to suffice when emotions raw I can’t handle any outcomes

on my own.

I need your music to bring me there, again.

Wonder Wheel

A melody

in a state of mind,

a thought motivates

a certain disc,

recording, desire to hear

a nostalgic notion.

Used to be we would

carefully,

lift the cover off our lives,

to keep the dust away,

listen for hours

to a melody that suggests

we live this way,

in a rhythmic trance,

a desired place,

a travel along simple horizons,

nothing complicated,

only the beat,

perhaps a lyrical ecstasy

would be our caveat.

I can remember every time

a song would bring back my life

to a place once before

where I was,

alone in a space of time,

suspended by that notion,

to some a disbelief

to me always,

a taste of promise.

Tuesday Afternoon Lives

I was with the Moody Blues the other evening,

my apartment, a place I could create my own dreams,

I listened to their soul speaking to my fear,

they could soothe my mind, allow me so near

the places I really wanted to be,

where we could all be together,

with our idiosyncratic notions,

without feeling as if,

as if we might somehow need to,

find a different way to cry,

instead of seeking an outlet,

a reason why.

I was once a young man, walking through the forest,

when certain things could scare me, the snap of sound

off in the distance, always playful, always silly,

miles away from my own sense of balance,

trying to find my way,

again.

I’m an older man today,

and I do indeed think life is strange,

when in the constancy of trying to understand,

we do lose ourselves in the mechanical wares

of understanding the energy within,

that human condition

that …

reality.