If it Kills me…
Im not typically one for posting other peoples work, as i prefer to find my own words for most things. But occasionally something touches me, and i fancy a repost of someone elses work. So it is.
I love dancing, and not just the saturday night kind. I daydream about it a lot… I think it would be so much fun. Sadly, ive never actually done it… Ive always talked about it, but i wont do it alone (although one day im sure i will), so its never come to fruition. But i love watching So you Think you Can Dance, and i saw this on wednesday (The vid might get pulled because DC Productions sucks…)
The storyline and the choreography is amazing (not to discount the dancing… And i think id Marry that girl site unseen, holy shit!). But the song was interesting too, so i went and found the lyrics to it. Wow, did it ever strike a chord with me.
I am not well, lol.
Jason Mraz- If it Kills Me:
Hello, tell me you know
Yeah, you figured me out
Something gave it away
It would be such a beautiful moment
To see the look on your face
To know that I know that you know now
And baby that’s a case of my wishful thinking
You know nothing
Well you and I
Why, we go carrying on for hours on end
We get along much better
Than you and your boyfriend
Well all I really wanna do is love you
A kind much closer than friends use
But I still can’t say it after all we’ve been through
And all I really want from you is to feel me
As the feeling inside keeps building
And I will find a way to you if it kills me
If it kills me
How long, can I go on like this,
Wishing to kiss you,
Before I rightly explode?
This double life I lead isn’t healthy for me
In fact it makes me nervous
If I get caught I could be risking it all
Cause maybe there’s a lot that I miss
In case I’m wrong
If I should be so bold
I’d ask you to hold my heart in your hand
I’d tell you from the start how I’ve longed to be your man
But I never said I would
I guess I’m gonna miss my chance again
All I really wanna do is love you
A kind much closer than friends use
But I still can’t say it after all we’ve been through
And all I really want from you is to feel me
As the feeling inside keeps building
And I will find a way to you if it kills me
If it kills me
If it kills me
I think it might kill me
And all I really want from you is to feel me
Yeah, the feeling inside keeps building
I’ll find a way to you if it kills me
If it kills me
It might kill me
Dawn
I realized the other night that there is actually a very good reason i havent written anything- or tried to- in quite some time: Great feelings and emotions (whether good emotions or bad ones) are usually founded in a strong sense of conviction for what im feeling. As such, even when it HURTS, i believe in what im thinking so its easy to express. it comes out in a way i can relate to, even if no one else ever understands or likes it.
Once on Nav, someone asked the question of WHY we bother to write at all. For me, its really not about talking to you. Im still not entirely sure why i even post these now… But i felt like i was screaming in to a brick enclosure, before. But theyre almost always written to say things you couldnt understand anyway, so maybe its a way to tell a secret without telling a secret, but i digress.
Lately, i know how i feel, but i dont like it. Its lackluster, its mediocrity, and its confounded with a newly bred sense of: Distrust, Resentment, Anger, Bitterness, and general apathy. Its no secret that i daydream a lot… Just about anytime my headphones are on. Ive even had very similar daydreams for years (maybe my mind will move on when one is realized?). They often just get a new character/face, or a new song/soundtrack. Lately though, im finding myself cutting it short, already dreaming up a bitter ending to it, and then having to stop myself short. THIS is why ive been afraid to write.
But the other day, i said something to one of my best friends. It was just a rash passing thought, but at the TIME i meant it, which worried me. Since then, the thought stayed. This is about that thought… But i preface now: Its really NOT the literal story its written about. I mean, this is very literal in what it says, but thats not whats in my mind when im reading this.
But i know i wont be writing again for awhile. Because i hate this one, and i dont like where it went. I had passion, and i had fire… And i loved it. And i wrote it, and i shared it. And no one person took it from me, but a few horrible encounters later, and im waiting for the bitterness to pass, because right now… Its annihilated. And im angry about that. But… For the fallen:
Of the roads that i was driving, of the journeys i have taken-
As the friend who stood- surviving, even when i was forsaken.
Quiet, rarely a contesting- follow through in all your actions
Even though you knew protesting called to you, for my infractions
Standing in for friends i lost, those that couldve caged the madness
Now, betrayed- a jaded cost, attuned to notice- herein sadness
That: the night we walked together, (Mother as she reigned and rained)
As my other, balked at weather, and an illness then was feigned
Steadfast in our quickened paces, anytime: a destination
And the way we chased the faces, lost in angst and consternation-
That id run to save a friend, and sometimes fall from grace, in suiting-
Though i used you then, to mend, and how my foot we then were shooting-
Why im writing here (and granting), odes to lifeless, reverie-
See: You left me here, im ranting… One more act: mortality.
Not in yours, as not for living, but in mine as you were saving
Me from actions unforgiving, when i crossed lines of behaving.
Thoughts of ‘in together’ preaching, as we rode with Cargo, Dear-
“Never faltering,” my teaching, and the way i bred the fear
For preciousness, my promises, for obstacles were naught for stopping-
And now, in seeing, what this is: Juggled luck, that now im dropping.
Looked to you, though my control, the way i pushed on you in nights-
One day/some day with a toll, as i teased beyond my rights.
Quietly though, you remained- Ever steady… unassuming.
Til (to save me) you detained, even as your end was looming.
Time: so meaningless at hand, the way i cant recount the hours-
Chained, in idle reprimand, recounting: we delivered flowers.
Poems, writtens, all my stories, how together, we would race
Running from, madness and glories, til the time that we would face
Myself, in trouble, that was known- and to who- would i lend an ear?
Where once before to trouble thrown, i left it- followed “follow here,”
Now: the anger, breaking free- Inanimate (you are) i blame
That even thought i couldnt see, you left me here, and just the same.
All the carnage then begotten, as all my friends look on in fear.
Somehow in the past (forgotten), im left alone just standing here.
Hearing this: the wake up call, but im asleep (as i was then)
Wondering how far we fall, and if we ever wake up… When?
On a porch, perhaps through phone, in every medium that asked?
What more would it take to hone, To uncover what i have masked?
Back to find a life to smile, something other than this game-
Where i push hard, for awhile… And teach you to forget my name.
Scariness, is theres no answer: I dont know what holds tomorrow.
But this desire is cancer, and eventually: the sorrow
Must succumb, for your replaced, and now im racing ’round a ghost.
And wondering (each road ive faced), if i scare, or get scared most-
Fade to black as colors fit, as resurrected wistfully-
Its sad- that smile as i sit, and push you farther, gracefully…
But it isnt as you were… it isnt how you used to be
Then again you werent her, as i would have let her save me.
But you: You gave it up: the wall, our backs or sides went up against.
And so, this deadly game: to fall, my bullshit antics have commenced.
Incredulous, i speak to you- and laugh as you were never living:
Bewildered as this time passed through, i wasnt either, so im giving:
Out a final call to you, and to the ones who could have saved-
But i know its MY follow through, and that i should have just behaved.
But so lost, with no recover, and now how THAT has woken fear-
Why… My saver, and my lover… Why to save, and leave me here?
Peeking for the future (desirous ambition)
I started writing a post on something i wrote last may, called Ambition… It was just a note to a recently introduced friend about my admiration for her ambitious desires… But while i was writing, something funny happened: I was thinking about all of my *interests* over the years, as ive had a LOT of conversations lately on what it is *were all looking for.* In Ambition, i was talking about my excitement for people with passion, with drive… with their OWN dreams. Its SO important to me in a relationship that you believe in one another, that you want to be a part of their dreams, and they want to live in yours too. So on THAT note, i went to quote something i wrote once. I remembered the line “Say we’ll fight for both our lives, the ones we lived before we met, And that we will also fight, for things we havent thought of yet…”.Then i went a little nuts… Because it was nowhere on my computer.
While i dont write often, i write whenever i have a chance and am inspired. That means its been spread about, in location. Home, on my old laptop, on my work computer (Three dropped passes was written at 7pm at my desk at work while i waited for a software patch to install, LOL). Peeking (which i was searching for) never got saved at home, as i wrote it at 30,000 feet on my way to Florida for work. Im happy i found it stashed on myspace. That line holds SO true for me still.
I found out recently that the one woman i came close to marrying (or so i thought?) actually is married now, and a piece of me is very happy for her. But, as she remains the ONE person who i felt was “fully invested” in my dreams, our dreams, AND her dreams… It was hard to hear. But, i smile, and reread Peeking, which i wrote 3/24/08… And i hope that one day someone wants to dream WITH me again.
When desire runs amok and when a look is captivating,
(when the feelings that I’m feeling aren’t logic correlating)
Is the dream that I am craving what’s in image that I’m seeking,
Or is there such entrapment, in the dream that to, I’m peeking?
Passions motivated, and the dreams always supported,
Devotion so unwavering, from love never deported,
To go together, to not waver, two, the future, as we face it,
To the good, and two towards bad, life together (we embrace it)
Laughing often, smiling always, and the tears we know we’ll shed,
Though we know through hard and sad, we’ll always stand by what was said.
Words that tell, and words that sold, and words when needed as were told,
“I love you,” “Always,” and “to have” and not forget “to also hold”
The times before, when words were whispered, as the passed has walked away,
Im waiting for the trust inviting, where I know that you will say-
In Together, In Forever, In for Dreams that for we try,
Along for Cycles, as we Break them, Precious Cargo rules apply.
Say we’ll fight for both our lives, the ones we lived before we met,
And that we will also fight, for things we haven’t thought of yet.
But say that we will fight together, fighting with, but not against
And say that we are always allies, once that dream has then commenced
Promise me you’ll understand, the quirks, the rides, and all the fears,
(That you’ll know there won’t be answers or some reasons, for my tears)
That nightmares come and I can’t stop them, both in dreams and so in life
(That I don’t mean to wreak such havoc… I don’t mean to cause such strife)
And that we know the road is rocky, as were both of such conviction;
But though the highs and lows cascade, we know such love is that of fiction
Founded in our lives as we, make fairytales, in all we do;
For as we ride such krazy trains, and know our love will get us through.
With poems written, and lived out, and love transcending understanding,
Living in a dream as this is something that were both demanding.
Knowing people stare and wonder, on what faith do we rely?
To hold so dear, to hold another, to answer- as we both reply.
Its love, as love was just intended, love that lights our hearts ablaze.
And shouldn’t it, bewilder us, and set our eyes in to a craze?
And where is it, that I cant find, and wheres it gone where once it stood?
Well that id answer, if I knew, and once I know, (you know) I would.
Part of what makes writing so important to me, is the way you can say things so literally, that the majority of readers will pass without regard, as they only have meaning in certain contexts. I remember writing this, on the flight (i hate flying…) and thinking it was ironic: With my oversensed aural perception (along with my hyper emotional… whatever), certain things that have been spoken to me have stayed with me in their entirety. The fourth verse speaks volumes, as it carries traces from 3 people who have now come in to- and left- my world. I think thats why once i wrote that verse, i wrote those lines about Say We’ll Fight… I specifically remember finishing that fourth verse, and instantly feeling… Slighted. But alas, here we stand. As Jeff said to me today “smash the rear view, and look out the windshield.” I suppose here is hoping the future looks just a little bit like the past… But not too much. 
The Three Thirty Train
I would be lying if i said i wasnt a little dismayed at how i felt writing this. Normally, they come out quite quickly, once the ambition has set in. But a long time ago, someone pointed out theyre rarely about me, and more so about the objects of my attentive distraction. Perhaps that is one reason this one was tougher than i thought it would be.
It has a lot of conversations in that ive been privy to, this week. With Jennefer on the times we write, the notes we stow, the feelings we take steps forward and steps back on, and how we war with ourselves over getting on those trains. With Dave, for the life we live for, the lives we work for, the work we do for living, and when living becomes work… Or when work becomes our living. “What ARE we fighting for?”
Make myself that minute late, as i hear the voice thats calling:
“On track 2″, the declaration, time to halt procrastination
Wrap that uneasy sensation, up… The Unknown: Destination.
Its then we find, for we wont sleep, that though our minds no reasons found:
That we can gauge, as we lose time, both in minutes, then in hours,
Time we waste, rehearsing rhyme, instead of making chances ours.
With no baggage as we stalked, amongst our thoughts with no refrain
Nor reprise, towards the past, as were all standing, here alone
“One way please,” i spoke at last, resigned to ride to the unknown
“early morning,” a refute: complacent, as i stand, sedate
My mind, in disconnect, perception, theirs in laughter at my jest:
Mine, the smile: misconception, that they dont understand, is best:
But mine: a time that i would start, and time: remind, that in this game
Theres no retreat, for trains keep moving, theres no ticket back to sorrow
And the solace found, is soothing, that there is only Tomorrow:
Ride alone, i have conceded, that there is no correspondent,
Writing to, or juxtaposed, accepted: as its my prediction:
That i know, its here supposed, this train reigns by my conviction:
This Train seizes trepidation, then anoints it with destruction,
Through Eleven, then passed Twelve, lended life to face rejection
Half passed three now, as we delve, secure, its ONLY my projection
So i wrote the time, in feeling, i would seek my penchants, visions-
Discount what is in discourse beyond control, relied on others
Leave them standing, no remorse, no more ducking under covers-
And focus on what i believe, i can, and that will then beget
A life, perhaps: consolation, but all together it will borrow:
Strength, its bred determination, from three thirty, til tomorrow
Now is for what i will fend, and see what End to that is giving-
You that choose to stand beside, as i no longer, am the chasing
if these dreams to you confide, let me down, then im erasing.
And said goodbye (the life ive known), the way i let you breed my doubt,
The way its gone, no more in vein, the way MY life, now YOU can borrow:
I boarded that three thirty train, and it rides on until tomorrow.
Music of the Minute: Yanni- One Mans Dream
So discussed (as so alone)
I got a phone call yesterday… And im trying not to get my hopes up about it too much. But the long and short of it, is that there is a dream ive had for quite some time, and its a rather simple one: Its just doing my job, but doing it the way ive always believed i could do it, without being held back, and not having to fight so hard for it. The phone call may turn out to be nothing, but heres what was funny about it:
I suppose our lives are like chapters in a book, and we catalogue them as such. People come in and go out, as do jobs, as do homes. Theyre like titles, changing as we turn the pages. So while that phone call came (and i AM excited about it…) this was a pipe dream that i had, when there were other people around, where now there are empty seats where they remained. They were never closely tied to my dream, but (for an instant) one was going to work on it with me, and the other just sat next to me while i dreamed and schemed and talked and hoped… And in my naivety, i thought we would stay seated there, and maybe theyd believe in me in case it actually happened. Anyway, when i got that phone call (its nothing serious, just an opportunity that MIGHT be coming!!!) there were four people i wanted to call. Two i did, two i didnt… That chapter is closed. While im okay, i realize it is just about discerning what we want and what is best for us: In the end, its about ME anyway. But i wish i couldve told them that it may have actually happened. Though i wrote this on November 4th 2008, its written about that EXACT feeling, realizing that it takes more than numbers in a phone book and a dialtone to be able to make that call again. Its a somber memory, acknowledging that sometimes a dead horse just ant be kicked anymore, and that you need to lock all the doors to the chapters behind.
If it’s true, that were alone, and maybe so, we’ve always been?
Is it real, that when at home, the veil of lies is paper thin?
That to trust, to give and take, to be as halves (complementary).
Is deceit, and such mistake, (maybe we aren’t meant to marry?)
Or to love, as lovers do, or with friends- to stand together.
Could there be no follow through, ties that are not meant to tether?
So discussed, and then dismissed, as we go on but don’t advance,
We cry, and count, and make a list, those who struck when given chance.
Those who broke the rules unsaid, the codes of friends, (and expectations)
Some who laughed, (as they misled), amidst the hurtful accusations.
Of the wild horse, the shooter, said an axe to grind and swing-
Of life’s treasures, as a looter, as a dissident to sing:
Against the choirs holy chanting, notes off key and sounds all bent-
Wondering, while running (panting), where is a song that for I’m sent?
Where are words that im not finding, where are smile im not seeing?
Why just sounds of chains im grinding against, but that, im not freeing
from, as tied, as lived, and died, of woken, spoken, and exhausted.
Thoughts, ive tried, ive fought and cried, protested, contested, alas, accosted
That as rhythm changes prose, lending confusion to verses,
Worlds so painful (no one knows), what lives in each others curses.
But to each, their own, (and more, if theyre wanton to keep giving
Others), as they are alone, and so they figure living-
Through those eyes that they can’t see, the ones who’s lives they tried to lead,
Turn blind but through the mystery, the pain is something that they need
To know that some will find that life, some will find the follow through,
That maybe some will find the strife, but happiness may still find you
So its dark, its disconcerting, as were aging, getting older
As our minds, are disengaging, and our Crazy’s getting bolder
Tired, of the tired, as were staring at admired, and were wondering, what more?
Perspired, and expired, locksmith ive hired, drop the hammer, lock the door.
Twice within, the rhythm completely falters. It irritates me every time i read it (and im always so tempted to alter it), although i did it because my head was just a friggin federal disaster area when i was putting this one together. That makes me wonder what can be said about someone who saw trouble coming from 60 paces, and still was dumb enough to walk forward.
Ive always contended that work was… The easy part. And i stand by that. Sure, these days work or the lack thereof has been one of my biggest anxiety inducers, but its nowhere i havent been before. I dont believe it bothers me by itself, i think its just… The rest of the house of cards, that fell. Ive always been great at the work fight… But it was always when it was FOR something. The 70 hour weeks never hurt, and i MERRILY got up at 4am after getting home at 1, and i dragged myself in every day for months straight… When i was doing it for a life, for a living, for an us. I remember Buffalo, 2 jobs, the summer heat, the 60 hour weeks, and getting in my car to FLY home. To go HOME. Fight for it all day, and make it happen… For home.
Its my dream, and it doesnt involve anyone else. I get that, i really do. Im not so rediculous so as to think it needs someone else to be a great dream… Thats just insane. But maybe its just that dreams are so much more endearing when someone else WANTS to be in your dream with you. Either way, if the NEXT phone call comes (and my fingers ARE crossed…) im going to set the world on fire in the best way i can, and im not going to stop until i have everything i want.
But, we cant fight hard enough to get everything we want… Now can we?
Screen names and Nicknames… On cars and corny gestures
This is both: a recent story, and a story ten years in the making. The screen name “RoadsPoet” replaced “TwiceRoadsFool” years ago, when i closed a chapter in my life. (The story on TRF has already been told here, if you managed to find it). On RoadsPoet, the name tells a game i simply LOVE to play. Over the top courtship is something i adore, and i am sad that its lost on most of my generation. In High school, a friend and i with similar interests used to embark on wild-eyed journeys of surprising the objects of our affections. It became a driving journey (literally), and we all know the pleasure i get from circumstantial badassery on the road. But romance (imho) is best served in surprise- And if you shouldnt be able to be in two places at once, its so much more fun.
Recently i had been spending a lot of time and nights with a woman, but work was tearing me away… A few thousand miles, for a week. I was smart enough to know that reality would step in that week, and things would forever change. So i wrote my heart out in verse (by hand, which takes me forever), while i shouldve been packing. The town slept around me, as i compiled my silly notion(just my simple writing, sitting on a bed of roses), and i hit the road. There wasnt a need to rush- Kara was asleep, i had 6 hours til my flight (it was midnight), but… Therein is the dream. Not just for racing, but for knowing of delivery, and expectation, and all that goes with.
As they have, us intertwined, against your body i was folding,
In my eyes, as eyes lay opened, staring up upon my ceiling,
(Though eyes closed stare out to you, as sleeping eyes stared back), im feeling
The ones inside of me you pushed, (and maybe one or two of yours)
Found, as friends, as you see me, the way i let down all the faces
When your eyes peek, into my soul, delving in to all the spaces
The way with you, ambition lost: returns, (the passion not conceded)
As charades do not project, (for when they do you see them showing)
Other thans, and so i know, theres comfort in that you are knowing
And how (my friend) i love you dearly, when you put me in my place.
The way (without attempt) you reign, the Crazy out of me with ease,
The times bewildered i dont argue, anytime, you just say please…
But those who thought they knew me best, wide eyed, that i- easily tamed
Through words, a voice, the way it soothes me, as your words dance in my head
Hearing everything weve spoken, wondering, what went unsaid?
Between us, as our lips have touched, and my hands have commenced to trace
You, and memorized each inch, as they rolled across your skin
All the fires, all desires, you ignite in me, within
Were heaven, holding you so close, telling you ill always be here,
And i meant it, and ill keep it, any way youll have me ’round,
In my heart, you hold so much, forever, us on solid ground.
“Leaving me this week” you pouted, and the way that i was pleased,
Love you Pine, as we were folded, and the way my heart would waver,
Love you too, as i replied, behind closed eyes, as i would savor,
Doting on, as characters, we read, and how id love to be
Employed: in ’saving’, entertaining, loving: such a job description
fancies me, but as a patient, i await doctors prescription.
Life ignited, once again, a heart i thought that never would,
Open up unto another, the way my heart has taken to
My friend, my lover, my tree hugger, hope you know Pine Tree loves you.
Im not always well received on adventures like this, and i suppose part of being this kind of person is learning that a lot of people will laugh, make fun, or just flat out stare incredulously at you for such an idea. I had several hours of flying, sleeping, dreaming, and thinking, to contemplate what kind of a reaction this would propagate. There is a fascinating safety net in doing such a thing when you know youll be 2000 miles away when someone reacts. Still (while validation escapes me currently), i sit here sometimes… And reread the thank you note i got that morning. For at least ONE instant, the “crazy” in me was desirable, if not enjoyed. I’ll hold on to that, because *I* know i didnt make the whole thing up.“Precious Cargo Rules apply…”
Steve Jablonsky- Youre a Soldier Now
EDIT: I switched it to a link. The song was embedded. But it was getting annoying. Feel free to sample, but then uh… delete it. And uh, buy the album.
I didnt coin the term, honestly. “Precious Cargo Rules” came about one summer evening at the Fairmount 695 onramp, when a passenger in my car shrieked as i flew around the onramps. It is- in fact- something i call the water gun test. I can see this needs more elaboration, but i dont want to go there tonight. Two women in my life have passed the so called water gun test, and theyre both gone now. BUT tonight wasnt about Precious Cargo Rules, since i was alone. I was out, and the lake effect was roaring, so the drive home was… amazing. I just adore it.
On the subject of my daydreams, i have an entire one plotted out to this song (which i was just out driving with)… But, as im sure it goes without saying this late in the post, it makes me drive like a goddamned maniac. I call it *track 17*, though it may actually be 16 or 17 on the Score, for Transformers, by Steve Jablonsky. (If youre a fan of the movie, its during the battle in the city near the end). I could articulate the entire fictional scene in my head, but its late, and i just enjoyed the drive home, and thought it was worth mentioning. The only thing better than a night of nasty dancing, is nasty dancing then nasty driving.
Im also realizing: i dont write every day, not Writtens, anyway. And since im new to this (and perhaps relieved to get it off my chest), im posting ones from the past pretty quickly. I suppose the good news (for you) is at this rate ill run out soon, haha..
So heres an old one… 2003, i believe. it fits quite well, for when Precious Cargo rules DONT apply.
I push the luck, don’t give a fuck, lets see how fast it goes,
Cuz on the wire, gets me higher, saves me from my woes,
The lines beneath me, then bequeath me, freedom to deny,
Their all so blurred, when speed is stirred, id rather just reply,
‘Your just a guide, surpassed by pride, you wish to stop disaster,
But I care not, you, I forgot, without you I go faster.’
So slam the gas, and then surpass, whatever rules imply
Find a gear, forget the fear, and show me you can fly.
Hold me in, and feed my sin, lets show them something bigger,
Cuz you’re the gun, and I’m the one, whose finger’s on the trigger.
Lose this town; the pedals down, lets run from both our past’s
You’re my power, for this hour, we’ll live if your heart lasts.
And if we hit, your hearts limit, and you can give no more,
Don’t hate me when, I punch it then, you know I must be sure
You may protest, when I contest, but try and see it through,
For as we roll, out of control, you know that I need you.
Heartfelt tension, flexed suspension, road that’s giving to our song,
Even knowing, you’re not showing, that you think that I am wrong.
Hands on wheel, I know I feel, that on this speed do I depend,
I’m not aghast, of speed this fast, but of the stopping… at the end.
As for the song… If youre a daydreamer, play it a few times, and let me know what scene YOU see playing out to it. Mind the dramatic transitions around :55, 1:50, 2:30, and 3:05.
“I reckon it’s again my turn to win some or learn some…”
So i daydream. A lot. Enough so, that you COULD say it might not be safe. Everyday on my lunch break i put on headphones and walk around whatever town i work in. When i was in Downtown Syracuse it was the best, as i made it a 40 minute walk. And i have bizarre daydreams, about all kinds of things: Choreographed dancing with the “Objects of my affection/distraction;” Singing to people (i LOVE to sing… im okay at it, not wonderful, but decent); driving in a fury out of some circumstance of desperation (these daydreams happen when i AM driving sometimes… And thats funny. Not to everyone else on the road, but…).
Ive only really talked about these with one person in my life, and i feel slighted by that. Of my own doing, most of my closest friends dont know these things about me, and it they cock their heads to the side and look at me funny, well thats tough shit. This particular song is a funny one though. My sister sent me this song, as she loves Jason Mraz. I mean, who doesnt? Coincidentally, my vocal range is IDENTICAL to his, and this song flows effortlessly out of me (im singing right now, no lie..). Ironically, my daydream to it is that im singing it to the last person i was… Interested in. A funny thing about that: It was the same person who knew about my daydreams, and all of my idiosyncrasies. We’ll call her Kara. (For better or worse, i timeline my life by the women that have come in to and gone out of my life. There are reasons, but ill explain that tomorrow.) Anyway, im rambling. I was enchanted with the line i picked as the Subject of today’s blog, more out of irony than anything else. Maybe we get a chance to win, maybe we all dont? Kara found this amusing, as (for her) things are quite well these days. But it got me thinking about my daydreams. Theyve never been faceless, though ive lied to people and said they were before. So when the circumstances of reality dictate that hopes are dashed, what do you do with the daydreams that still want to play? Well, as i walk singing this song, im still alone with an audience of one, but onlookers many, piping this out on a snow covered street… In a dream, emotionally not unrequited.
There were two Writtens from this year i contemplated putting here. One on being Inspirationless, as i fear what happens when someone takes my daydreams away. But the truth of it, is my daydreams require a soundtrack, as does my life. Today, ill remember my scene in the snow, to Jason Mraz. But tomorrow, maybe a different face, and a different song. But for me, there will always be a song… And always a daydream. Do you daydream? No matter how ridiculous they are, id love to know about them I might even post the other songs and daydreams ive had recently… Including the car chases, LOL… But every moment has a song, and a Rhythm.
In the soundtrack of my life, I hear the crashing of percussion,
And maybe yours, a dialogue, with no drums, just discussion.
And more with less, perhaps without, as some don’t find the reasons
For wanting in the singing, dancing, for me- in all seasons.
With beats per minute (so infinite), in music made for dancing,
The way the rhythm penetrates, into gyratic prancing.
With spectrums vision, in precision, infiltrated by the bass,
The sights of ‘lost,’ behind eyes closed, when lights dance on my face
Without a movement predetermined, how to move we then desire,
Barely touching on the ground, (as if our feet were licked with fire)
The way the space we hold as close, as personal, a line not crossed
Is then invaded, but not so, as all our boundaries then are lost
We find each other, as not knowing, in not caring, at such action,
As we both give in as such a soundtrack breeds attraction
For the bodies, and the movements, as we learn to pace each other
In the dance that has no script, barely knowing one another.
And morning light, as last nights dance, when I am pacing in the sun,
Im listening to sounds so different, as I make the day begun,
Instrumental, hard crescendo, songs that to a movie bound,
Were built in purpose, for the action, now, another purpose found:
Making daydreams, as the day seems, more involved with beats intensely,
Banging drums, as cello hums, as soundtracks, waver me, immensely
For invoking, and provoking, songs meant for the reinforcing,
Of the picture, when not present, just the music, is enforcing
In me any scene, imagined; any story line I write;
The sounds that make a heart beat faster, anytime of day or night
In drama, wordless, but this music, that which I find captivating-
Drives me in all things ambitious, as the wordless, motivating
Thoughts of chases, dreams of races, visions of lives I don’t lead,
Inspiration, though in fiction, breeds that plant grown from a seed;
That drummed my ear, just for an instant, watched me rap my hands in time,
Knowing that though song is not, the song will make each moment, mine.
