in my ear,
in my dome,
in my soul,
in my bones,
on my 2phones.
In hurricane winds,
with a tornado inbound,
whilst traveling abroad,
or in your home-town.
In stormy or fair weather,
it matters not a bit,
that shit has the power
to put you in a fit.
Sublime or chaotic,
what you get is past legit.
The truth,
transcending all
language
and culture.
Hitting the virgin
the same as the adulterer.
Whether
working out,
or sitting still.
Sad
or in the zone.
Sober
or stoned,
youngster
or grown,
the music speaks
truth.
When with friends,
family, strangers,
or most especially
when all alone...
For here
or to-go...
Drums
beating,
fast-like
heart-
chords pulling,
beating
faster.
Repeating.
Repeating.
Never competing
but never
completing.
Sense of impending.
Anticipatory
&angelic-ishhhhhhhh,
Kind
of like stings
more
like trumpets
heralding.
Beautiful disaster.
Be it lulling,
auf wiedersehen-ick
dub-step,
or ending with a gong,
slo-mo...
or a siren's song.
Negativity-deaf
feeding,
not defeating
eating.
We hear and adhere.
Get into it and we go.
Again and again,
over rainbows
and under seas.
It gets inside
like a disease.
Use we our ears
to be shown
with pleasure
without saying please.
Indeed
music
moves us,
as if we
have been
hardwired.
it would seem.
Born suggestion prone
to do what it deems.
Dance is medicine.
Singing can be too.
It took me
far
too
long
to
realize
these are
the real eyes.
The connections
between
the soundtrack
of
my life
and
my actions.
How it has
always
been
the deciding,
that nudge.
The code that cracks.
when my heart
feels lack.
That thing.
Known not,
no-named.
In fact
or in fiction
intuition
submission.
Can't not.
Just.
Listen....
Life itself,
lacking music,
becomes a chore
a bore, but
add a radio
into the mix
it ignites your
insides.
Ask for
an encore,
excites 'em
up sum,
if only
fer a bit.
The good ones bite.
They grab.
Stab and slap
It links
my memories
to the seasons
of my life.
Its the songs
you dance to
when you wed
her
for love of life
makes you
remember that
night,
she in white.
.
First memory shit,
like mom is over crib.
Immortal
they are timeless,
bring us joy
like when
we was kids-ing.
Ourselves
the ways we
were
and all
ways
is.
Are.
and will be.
reminding us we are alive
its the jam you needed to hear
when the piles of shit are up to your nostrils
its the rainbow
when courting
its the thing you initially
connect and build upon
the right advice
you need like that
Canadian chick's iconic ironic
songs to sing along to
to fall asleep to
to fuck to
to buck up to
and say fuck it
up too late to too
