Music

the streets are the same as ever,
the voices are different
souls with no hidden agenda,
loiter around in the distance
the image of a song bursts into tune,
and after teasing and tempting awhile,
gets lost and leaves me alone.

the muse is sometimes an image,
it sometimes is a sound .
sometimes it's a feeling
of the music infinitely going around.
the notes change with emotions
of a vengance filled friend
but never stay constant enough
to be mine again

the desire to make sound
to touch the hearts of all
burns with a fevor so deep
or sometimes burns none at all
it would be mine forever i thought
it would never lead me astray
but alas i regret to ponder
my music has gone away

flown off in the distance
for a better song to sing
to brighten the life of another
like a courtesan bringing another drink. 
i wait and wait and wait some more
with the strings under my tips
but my music is on vacation
singing with all its wish.

to bring it back, or not at all
lies solely in the twist of fate
like the guitar dying slowly in my hands
or the verse dying slowly in my brain.

so with my last wish to the lamp
i wish the return of my song
grant the life to my journey
and to all i bring along.

It's got me again.

Fluttering eyes and painted lips,
Full grown cups and curved hips
Snaky hair and well done tips
Just a drink away from eternal bliss.

The sweetest soul loosens the will of man
She moves to the rhythm of a marching band
Transfixed, you try and understand
The rules of love for a battered man

You tell a tale or tell a lie
You break your will or you say goodbye
You change your ways and breathe a sign
But you don't ever quit and die.

A change of heart and a change of game
So hurt and hopeful and nothing to blame
But just the thought of love entering your brain
Save me god, it's got me again.

The Dream comes true

Electricity  filled the air like the maker weaving dreams. One, of the gods decending upon the mortals,
finally pushing the believers over the edge. and the non-believers to rest.

Not too many are enlightened enough to see their gods in person. Up close and personal, not too many get a chance to see them be The Master of Puppets they are. for those that do, the experience is one that makes living easy and filled with purpose. even if it's just for a few hours, where you don't have to question the reasons of life and the universe. you don't have to question the existence of a higher power.

you're there. they're there. and they are in control.


the ecstasy of first notes being played brings on a feeling far greater than that first drag of hashish, of the first time you made love. it grabs you, and makes you forget the pain, of standing for 10 hours. of having waited all your life. of having grown up without ever getting to experience them. of hunger and thirst. of everything that makes you human.


the only thing that makes complete sense is to sing. sing till your throat hurts. sing till your voice is heard. sing till you can't sing anymore. sing till the noise reaches your soul.


and when as if on que, even the sky drops down it's nectar on you, you realise that this is no ordinary event. you are being blessed by the celestial beings for being there. for experiencing something so magical, your future generations will feel it.


you don't ever want the night to end. you just want to be stuck there, in a limbo, till you shrivel up and lay down. listening to the sounds that make everything so easy.


and just as the last riff is played and all the formalities are done, you know for sure that

the night indeed will never end.