The Living Progression - breathe live reflect touch

(the living progression sound)
Dm mm, dm mm, dm mm, dm mm –

the sound of her love.

Dm mm, dm mm, dm mm, dm mm,

red flashes in her face.

Dm mm, dm mm, dm mm, dm mm –

the sound of his passion,

red flashes on his face.

Dm mm, dm mm, dm mm, dm mm,

red flashes in my face.

Dm mm, dm mm, dm mm, dm mm –

the sound of my thoughts.

Dm mm, dm mm, dm mm, dm mm,

red flashes on your face,

the sound of your cries.

Purple Guitar

G chord for starters. Let me sing you a song today.

It’s about love, like how all good songs are, for you, of you.

It will tear you apart and touch your heart. You will beg

and plead and cry. May mercy be bestowed.

Maybe not.

E minor to spice things up. Let us go on a ride to space.

You shuffle amongst the stars. They burn so radiantly, like how all good stars do,
  for us.

You flush with the envy of success, wondering
the intensity of enduring pain they mask to feed the fire.

The molten stomachs that do not churn in the face of fear.

The evaporated veins that do not bleed emotions
but empty promises once made by self to self, aged twelve.

The crumbled bones, shrapnel from war, with nothing left to break,
leaves no trails of cracks.

Yet, a 7^th, you flush in the vacuum you stand, for the vacuum they are within.

You crave for the constellations, trophies of achievements displayed
in the palm of your hands, bright red and searing.
Your artist speaks for yourself.

You drink through your windows, savoring each sip,
never letting cherry lips taste a drop of iced gold.
Your masterpiece of failures built on failure speaks for you.

See, you feel. Feel, you hurt. Breathe, you live.

The ticking at the corner has no meaning to the girl dying inside.

Time stops only for the poor unfortunates to cherish regrets.

Hear, the critics, yourself, muted, so loudly.

Guts twisting to the scribbles pending pen.

Embrace the moon, reflection of your light, as time pauses.

Stars too brilliant implode to massive darkness.

Hold on to yourself, do not get lost in the cadence.

D major.

The stage speaks

Silence. Listen to the stars. They shine
so bright under the light. Look at her.
Admire her grace as she
maneuvers the riffs
and the slides
and the turns
and the
steps.
See how she manipulates
your body.
Your eyes start to close
and
your muscles
tense.

Silence.

The seats roar
with fervor. The hall stands
and lifts her up higher into the stars.
The circle cheers. The bottom pleads for more,

She hums a tune ever so familiar to keep them
longing. You see, she makes music with her mind.
Her hands dances and her mouth sings but it is your heart that plays along
ever so sweetly, ever so exclusively in a frequency
only both of you register.

Thinking of you

Checking my phone again,
again. Still no notifications.
Checking my phone again.

Open up Facebook on my browser and
I see no reds on the top right.
Close it. Time to do work. Open up
Microsoft. Type in the header of my essay.
Open up Facebook on my browser.

Do you think of me as much as I do of you?
Of course not. You are amazing, but so is she.
She is kind and caring and broken just for you.
You love her and I... I think of you.

Your hands are magic; the way they move -
dynamic. The music you produce, the music
you command, you capture the heart of
songs and songbirds alike, your voice
resonates the world and makes it
pause

for a minum.
You sang for me once. The keys engraved in my soul.
I still feel the trills and they bring me gliss.
I can't believe it.
I don't believe it.
I cannot believe it.

You are like a work of art; so abstract.
Your heart beats to the rhythm of a dance.
Your alluring eyes amazes me every time -
seamlessly symmetrical like periodic alliteration in a poem.
Your smile, your comforting smile,
bends like the smirk of a quaver rest.
Your clef, sexy as always, tugs on
the bold hard strings of my stave.
Sharps and flats everywhere.

But you are hers and I am not yours.
Those lips belong to her.
Those hugs belong to her.
You belong to her and I am behind the
lens of this happy moment captured indefinitely.

Let me check Facebook one more time.
Do you think of me as much as I do of you?
Of course not. Your dream is her.

Music Makers

I closed my eyes and I
soared through the clouds and the mist and the
light of the man-made sun.

Streams; streams flowing from my eyes
as my gut clenches on every note and every
pause.

Steams flowing from my mouth
as I channel them to the house; full of listeners.

I am a performer.

Streams; streams flowing from my heart
as I opened myself to the individual critics.
Feel me. Feel my music. Feel my soul.

Streams flowing down my forehead,
coursing through my arms as my family channeled me.
Channel me. Feel so I can feel. Feel so they can feel.

We are performers.

Our hearts thumping as we stole- first, their ears,
then, their minds, and finally, their whole selves.
Manipulate them like we are puppet masters.
Make them excited, make them fear, make them cry
and feed off their cheers.

We are nothing without them.
They are nothing without us.

We are whole together as a musician and song.
We are whole together as a singer and the choir.
We are whole together as performers and audience.

We are whole together as friends and family.

Burnt

You and I, both volatile.
What were we thinking?
Something. There must have been something
that drew us together like a moth towards the light.
You were mesmerizing,
as long as I didn't look into your eyes,
and I'm sure I was too.

It was ecstasy with you,
as long as I didn't care for anything you.
Like giant fires of passion,
we gravitated towards each other.
You and I, by leaps and bounds.
It was like we were one body.

But that's just it.
We were one body and just the body.
Nothing more but we needed nothing more.

We were so close. So close we clashed so
ever uncomfortably.
Burning each other. Scalding our souls.
That was for questioning more.

Scarred, we dare not venture to further premises again.
All burnt out now, the smoke so suffocating and dark.
There is no more light to guide our way.
I can hardly look at myself.

Alone

The loneliness is driving me crazy.
Life has no color.
Hell, it's not even a silent movie.
Everything has just been reduced to nothing.

I stand in the middle and there is just nothing around me,
mirroring all the crazy thoughts and feelings inside.

I am not numb.
I feel empty.

My heart sinks and sinks and sinks.
I wonder what it would be like in the palm of my hand?
Could I speak to it? Is it still alive?
Could it listen?
I have been listening hard to it but it makes no sound.
The general of the army, that is the whole of me,
has gone down.

Every soldier lost. Gossips everywhere but
I hear nothing.
I stand in the middle and there is just too much going on,
mirroring all the crazy thoughts and feelings inside.

I am not empty.
I feel alone.

Closed Doors

Fly with me, my darling.
I want you to feel the freedom that is
so precious nowadays.
Feel the wind on your face; the wind
you create from your speed.
You are in control now. I am going to let go.
Fly, my darling.

Enjoy it - the immense pleasure.
It is all so dreamy and woozy and just magnificent.
You are magnificent.
I am magnificent. This feeling... it is... remarkable
to say the least.
Breathe in the air, my darling.
Let it fill your lungs. Your red bloody lungs that thump with your bloody red heart.
Feel the adrenaline. Stupendous.
Feel the rush. Feel every blood vessel dilate.
Let's get higher.

Push, my darling.
Push it through. Soar.
Clench your muscles, they are intensified.
No one can see you in this night sky.
You are in space with the stars.
Gaze. They are like fireworks all around you.
Yes, the feeling. This feeling bursts from within.
You feel it on-, in-, under your skin. Whatever.
You don't give a fuck.
Just let yourself go.

Gasp. You gasp and the sun smiles at you warmly.
Time to go home, my darling,
open your eyes.

The mask dictates

"May I go out?" Stay in, bastard child.
Hide in the shadows. The light is not for you.
You will meet no one. No one.
No one will ever know you exist.
No one will ever hear your voice.
You are nothing.
Go back to your corner and cover your face.
You sicken me.
Move along now.

"Do you love me?" Of course I do.
You embarrass me. Move your ass else I'll kick you.
And shut your face.
Do not talk to me. Turn away.
Your eyes, so innocent, has seen more evil than
any putrid smiles. Trust no one.
Only I can protect you.
Now put on this veil.

"Why do I hide?" To save our face.
Think of what happens when people lay eyes on a bastard
like you? So useless. So unwanted. So incapable
of anything in this world.
This wonderful world is filled with laughter.
Are you happy? I thought so.
Bastards do not have a hint of bliss in them.
You do not belong.
Keep still now or I'll slap your cheek and chain you up.

"Do you want me?" Get down.
You need a whipping to learn your place.
Yes, you will learn like how you have been.
Every lash will let you grow.
It is your food. It is your water.
You crave it, don't you child? "Yes Mam."
Get down. Cover up those scars.
I don't want to see them.
They are disgusting.
You disgust me, love.

Back to the corner. Crawl, if you can.

Good girl. I'll put on your favorite song.
Melancholy, isn't it?
Hum it for me at the back of my head.
That's nice. You are a sweet little thing.

Facing stress. Beating stress. Releasing stress.

You can feel it, everyone can.

Everyone is roaring with excitement.

The atmosphere is hot, fire hot, searing hot.

You feel your heart pounding like a prisoner waiting to be released.

You raise your hands.

“And in this corner, weighing over 180 pounds,

the one you have all been waiting for… YOU!”

The crowd goes crazy and they scream like a singular voice.

They spin around you and you clench your teeth.

You come back to the ring and you hear silence.

You’re zoned in.

You face a formidable opponent – one that has hardly been defeated.

He smirks at you.

You stare back. Staring always does the trick.

Fear or be feared. You don’t want to lose.

[I have to win.]

Choose your weapons.

You go for your gloves. Of course you go for your gloves.

Titanium covering plated gold. Your favourite.

It signifies your prowess.

Cheers of approval made you feel amazing.

You bite your lip as you put in your mouth guard.

[You can do this]

The other guy picked a shield.

“Idiot.”

Game on.

You know you’ve lost.