i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
Do you cry at night?
Feeling alone, deserted,
as if nobody wants you
nobody cares
you’re not good enough…
Do you think of all the possibilities in your life?
Your triumphs?
Mistakes?
The times you laughed, cried, and loved?
Do you remember when you first crashed,
cried all night, hugging your pillow,
your eyes and nose red from all the pain
… of that feeling of your soul splitting…
Do you remember that first time you fell in love?
The feeling when you noticed, and blushed because somebody asked you…
The felling when you saw him and your body betrayed you
sweaty hands,
mind racing,
stomach churning,
time freezing,
smiling awkwardly…
and embarrassing yourself
Do you remember when you dreamed your dream for the first time?
Of your future together,
traveling, growing old together with a family?
Do you lay in bed
thinking of the future?
Uncertain, scary, with a big question mark
but you close your eyes and imagine he’s there
and everything feels calm…
because you feel like everything will turn out ok…
just because he’s beside you
Clouds form in your head
raining on your face
just wanting to get out
just waiting for you
…just waiting for that signal…
… the signal of you
Music is a journey. It should kidnap your from reality. It should warp your thoughts in it’s succession of chords, arpeggios and dynamics. Music is a necessity. Music= life
“This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals—sounds that say listen to this, it is important.”
The art of musical poetry 