Music By Hand, Music By Heart...

I don't listen to what music critics say. I don't know anybody who needs a critic to find out what music is. what is a critic anyway, but a faultfinder? i hear music playing all the time. some days it sounds round, and i can see it turn colors. my last two performances felt "groundbreaking" because i finally reconnected with the guy who wrote the songs. for awhile i found it too painful to try to juggle both personalities. my music is bipolar, and i'm comfortably dealing with chips on both shoulders. every time i write a song, i lose a friend. i strike the wrong chords in people i guess. im like a dj of the soul. i mix and match silence and sound. light and dark. hope and despair. all in an attempt to make your bodies jerk! some mcs will tell you to throw your hands up to play to their own egos. i'm indirectly asking you to assume the posture of pray, and see G.d. at one time i had many friends and mundane worries. "Music is a gift that feels our heart each day!" i laugh at such optimism. for writer, music is a curse that fills one's soul with a certain melodic emptiness. music by hand. and music by heart. i prick my finger to pen these poems. otherwise who i am would never show up on the paper. i am tired now. i will sleep until my inner demons return.

nothing like i thought it would be...

i miss writing. where have all the words gone?