Wailing temporarily over silent sonatas and grievous etudes held in check, yet overpowering every thought and pushing it forward to be used in the next literate endeavor.
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Late at night when everyone is asleep, I sit and write to the sound of Chopin.
Each piece brings different words to match his beautiful notes.The sound of it fills my ears and penetrates my subconscious, settling there to stir thinking in my mind.Thoughts exploding, falling out one after another to fill pages with what his music brings to me.Happily, I sit and write continuously until I feel a need to…
Soaring, falling, crashing like never before, hitting the concrete hard with mind in hand.
Conquering death in my mind, using it’s presence to fulfill my purpose of life in a book of poetry, explaining how abuse affects your friends and places them in unknown dangers, because of mental and emotional abuse.Just being with someone who’s been abused and takes it out on others close to them – best friends…
Lifetimes come and go, yet are hinged on relationships –
Timeless anger is situated in brains of creative minds,being able to express the meanness in poetry and rhyme,of what atrocities have been imposed upon them by anotherof scant concern for anyone.
Following pathways through a definite labyrinth of curiosity, wondering how to escape the finality of death while looking forward to it at the same time.
As I sit and listen to whispers of music from beyond, telling of the calm serenity that will be mine in a matter of time.
Reserving the right to be myself on earth, I respectfully bow out of another’s boundaries.
Seeking a pleasurable existence, I turn inward, finding my way through a personal hell caused by others on the way to find myself again.
Falling drops of rain, imitating the pain of my tears,
Severing the feelings of pain and placing them in thepalms of my hands, as I await the answers to mycuriosity in silent depths, bereft now of fears.Complacently, listening to the edges of liferepeating my beginnings in videos of yesterday’s refrains.