Sing Me a Love SongKiss the clouds and sing me a love songSing Me a Love Song by Blue-iPod
Where happily ever after is possible and true.
Seasons have clambered and scrambled across
The rolling plains of my life and
The marathon towards death still careens at a quickening pace.
Mountains familiar and conquered stare me down to an ant’s height
And creepy crawlies march and stalk my terrified tread.
On the battered path in holey sneakers,
My trailing scarf drags in the crud of the forest’s squishy and soaked floor
And the dire question is to leave it behind with the past
or relax in the trappings of doubts and failures and fears.
The story of love is a foreign caress upon my ears but
my heart is too accustomed to the evil brushes of that death and
the surest and safest road is to roam and rage against hateful melodies.
The battle between my nervous system and my bloodiest organ
sizzles and pumps artillery against each other to save my hopes, goals, dreams, and life.
Shut me down and leave me to the scavengers—
Is it all well?Well.Is it all well? by Blue-iPod
Well, it’s all good, isn’t it?
The lights, the food, the dripping wax,
And the silver dishes,
The creak in the floorboards,
The sparkling wine and the clink of crystal—
But, is it good?
One shake, one shout, one blast of the music
And the walls shatter like glass
And explode like Hell’s fire.
There is no ceremony or ritual or etiquette
For saving lives, for telling the news,
The oh so important news of their rottenness
And corruption and plastic faces and fake personas
And excellent acting.
We, the alive, the aware, the always noticing few,
Scream and cry with our megaphones
And home-made signs, preaching unto our dying day
To be unique and yourself and special and reach
And fly towards your dreams like it’s a fairytale,
You’ve rode the knight in shining armor just to make the point
That he’s not real and a moldy piece of humanity
Needing to be tossed in the bin—
No more recycling.
Well, it’s not all good, isn’t it?
Jazz LoverLet's sway to the music,Jazz Lover by Blue-iPod
to the lights,
to the patter of the rain.
The saxophone’s voice is syrupy
and enticing my hips
to show off its curves and beauty—
dance with me
for I’ve yet to fall in love
with love such as yours
and waltz any waltz
with my man, my hero,
my darling of darlings.
Charm me into love with
sweet kisses and tender looks,
paint the romance through the air,
over the walls, out the glass doors,
and across the sky,
grant me the moon and the stars,
and above all,
teach me to fall in love
for I know not how.
Graduating FriendshipMy friends have graduated from my careGraduating Friendship by Blue-iPod
And have grown up while others I’ve had to let go
And now I have no one to look after,
No one to care for.
So who will I take care of now?
How do I care of myself?
Who will take care of me?
For I no longer know how to care of myself
For I have no one to take care of—
So who will take care of me?
So who will turn the first page?
It never hurts to think. So think. Think.
Have I become an actor?
AM I MEMORABLE?
look right through me
what do you see
How is true beauty measured?
What do you want?
I am lost.