for the emails that smile

Broken emails pretending to smile
You know I hate to be the one to do this, haha
But I always find myself in the same place
Time and time again I begin to ask myself why

Why do we do the things we do
Gosh darn we’re so productive
So polished
So beautiful
Let me polish it a bit more

Maybe it’s already shiny
Maybe now we’re digging a little too hard

Probably should stop

We are so professional in the way we operate

I am not one to criticize the world
We have made it this far
How marvelous!

Nevertheless,
My friend Josh is happy
He smiles a lot
But he also needs his dosage of pot
At least every once in awhile

And Nina
She is sad

I’m not saying there is an answer
But I can’t help but to ask why

Better yet, HOW

How can we over come this part

You know, this part of the movie?

We’ve gotten past the scene where the monster makes a mess
We slashed open the tires
We survived

Heart pounding
Damn we were good
We humans

Look where we got ourselves

Climbing
Further
Further
Even further

But God it hurts my throat when I try to speak

I haven’t come far enough

In a Daze

I sit here in a daze at the events in my life.

I haven’t written in awhile.  Even now as I write I can’t seem to get it in my head that this is for me, not for another.  This blog is for me, not for grade.  This blog is for me, not for a status, an approving nod from a professor, or the hope of a brighter future.

This blog is for me.

Or so I would like to think.

But now I am coming to realize that I’m thinking about my dad while I am writing, somewhere  in the back of my head.  What will he think?  Will he notice the parallelism..

My audience-what will they think? Do I have anything of importance in my work, in my thoughts, in my music?

What will they think

What will they think

What. will. they. think.

Maybe the day will come when I’ll be free from this hell

Maybe the day will come when I’ll decide to take a step off the stage.  I have lived on the stage my entire life now.  I decided to stop.  And recently I felt in my heart a sadness that I have never quite felt before.

This aching.  Oh God, it’s miserable.  But why?  This is not me.  I don’t ache.  I am passion and fury.  Hard work, blood sweat and tears.

Sonata form, recapitulation, stand, clap, take a bow–smile, they are watching.  STAND straight, they are watching.  Pronounce your name with confidence, they are watching.  Play the music, Greta, they are watching.

They are listening.

My work is my equivalent, when my work is bad I too am unfortunate.  But recently found, when my work is good I am still unfortunate.

Maybe if I can understand the theory of it I will be able to write two voices–maybe something grand will come of it, this fugue.  Maybe I can capture what we are looking for.  If music can’t , then there must not be an answer- small planet filled with death, rage and fury.

And then there is that ache again–shit. This is not me.

I am passion.  I am fury.  I am passion..

Sonata form–for the hundredth time

For a moment I thought I found it.

I don’t know. At this point I can’t tell the passion from the ache-or maybe they’re one in the same.

I am passion.  I am fury, but honestly .  I am in pain.  Just like you are, just like he is.  Sometimes you just ache.

 

 

introspection

All I can tell you is in my bones I feel an aching
I feel the pain of a beautiful light which I can taste but cannot have

I wish to feel less
I wish to care much less
because nothing I can do
will ever be enough

will any song be enough
what melody could ever capture this
what verse
what color
what piece of existence
could express that which my bones
are weeping for
laughing for
eternally distracting me for

my soul is so on fire
that it will unfurl itself across the universe
as a wise man once said
to find that for which it is searching

and so it is

the melodious poem

I love the piano
because into it
myself I can pour

When I die,
I ask you to sprinkle me
amidst the strings
knowing at that moment
I will be upon the wings
of the angels
who whispered into my ears
and wrapped me in melody

I love the piano
because it alone
will let me transpose
fire into something
I can hold

if key striking string
did not behold
one of God’s most stunning ecstacies
I am at a loss to explain to you
what does

a song in my lungs

Be-free1.jpg

there are many ways to express our breath
breathe slowly deeply
breathe in a song
breathe out a melody

why would we restrict such beautiful breath
breathe deeply
slowly
fully
and knowingly

until your breath begins to sing
and your song begins to fly on the wings
of it’s marvelous dance

what is pain

life loves us,
it’s beckons us to survive
streaming through our veins
brains and souls
relentlessly

yet when we suffer
our hearts begin to break
beat even faster
and our lungs begin to shake

then we start to know
that which is called
strength

as we’re introduced
to the infamous,
pain

at this point,
some will fight it
as it spreads like a disease

at this point,
others may give up

at this point,
the wise will endure
willfully

knowing pain’s
the prerequisite
of love

for it is the love of life
we come to know
in the most deep
and violent throws

for when we face our demons
look them in the eye

we are strong to endure darkness
and bring forth the light

to the Soul

in my opinion
we should live
in a simpler way

closer to nature
farther from the poison
that is us trying
to recreate it

in my opinion
we should learn
in a more meaningful way

less work, more passion
less ego, more soul

in my opinion
we should stop running

to tend to
the damage

we obsess over saving
the starving child
yet refuse to plant a garden

and we now are all hungry