“Behold the fragility
kept within this space.
I used to be the voice
that made their souls,
but behold my fragility,
kept within.”

But no light has been
erased from those eyes
which hover higher
than the muck of living.
Nothing has faded within
this singer, not even the song
shackled to her weakness,
its dying unheard.

i have this fantasy in my mind
to sing the blues

to sing the songs of lonesome people
to belt it out from the bottom of my bellows to the tippy tops

i see my dark silhouette in even darker places
bringing sorrowful songs a touch of sweetness and whole lotta soul
soul that'll shake the lonesome loose

i could hide my face and bare all emotion
for strange familiar faces

so i'm crazy, yes, and secretly want to be a lounge singer
a lady of the night if you please
but think it over, then tell me truly that
to breath the blues for those who feel them
doesn't entice you as well

Its time to rhyme,
my time to shine.
Fame here I come,
dad raise up your thumb.
i hope your watching, i hope your proud,
i can see you clearly standing in that crowd.
daddy your boys grown,
but he still sees you on the phone.
just Listen to me please,
then Ill finally be at ease.
Dad are you watching and listening too?
listen to my song thats all about you.

It was then uncovered onto my wee young years,
But left out in the cupboard, perhaps out of fears.
All in a snap, it opened like Pandora’s Box
And spread hope and joy that dispelled strife and hell’s fox.

Moving on and out truly have been the best choice
For I have now found a reason to use my voice;
From quiet, a translucent soul’s metamorphosed,
Lo and behold, a phoenix thumps more than supposed.

See how the golden voice transformed this mute maiden,
A voice that has made her life turned and forgiven;
Here now, she sings and strums not for herself no more,
She now sings for better things that matter than score.

Look at how things change when touched by her gentle song,
The rain stops pouring, the bad turns to good along;
To think, it wasn’t other people whom she touched,
Even she herself, pure to the soul, have been changed.

See now, she’ll continue to belt out her good hymn
Until her swan song will be last as it seem;
But forever will her flight to bring goodness be,
So the wind sings with her muses onto the sea.

The Things I Wish I Could Be

I wish I could be
one of all instruments;

the singer whose voice
transforms his audience into a choir;

the writer who drops his reader's guard
making a beautiful decimation of every self-made fantasy;

the actor ripe with nominations
whose prestigious Oscar breaks him open before the world;

the photographer who captures moments worth infinite words
while instilling that perfect piercing silence;

the painter of elegant simplicity
or ponderous complexity in every brush and stroke;

the icon strangers seek for reason
looking upon for inspiration;

the husband who gives and comforts
appreciating the angel he's been bestowed;

the father wise and guiding
with enough laughs and smiles to last their whole lives;

the chef and the baker serving only the best
scrumptious entrees and desserts;

the encyclopedia of experience
answering questions obscured from the web;

yet beyond all things
I wish to greet death with a smile
knowing my life, however lived
was worth those years.