speaking of songs

speaking of music
inspiring poetry
i listen to the
cranberries and
the flaming lips -
moody melancholy
but with a smile

music of speaking
poetry inspiring
listen to the 'i'
and cranberries
flaming the lips -
melancholy mood
with but a smile

of music speaking
i can't string out
the poem to fill
self-imposed rules
of poesy as easily
as others maybe and
my line breaks are
more natural per-
haps. oops.
hehe. there
i go with the
ee cummings-esque
spliting of words
and thoughts and
maybe i'm caught
up in the moment
remembering my dreams
(both real and poetic)
more and more and some-
times they scare me, but
they're somehow more real -
experiencing them asleep
instead of awake.

too many cigarettes -
my shirt smelling of
200 of them and ashtrays
as frying pans leap from
the lake in the early
morning fog as humming-
birds burrow through the
air and bring mystery and
happiness to all the souls
without it at the moment and
the turtles close to the shore
in single file on a log slowly
make their way to the shore or
away from the shore i don't know
anymore, but the door of poetry,
the floodgates of poesy have
opened once again as i as the
turtle cautiously peek my head
out of my hardened shell and re-
member what it's like to be alive
and feel the poetry not as meaningless
words to spout bad thoughts, but as a way
to connect to the joy of life we sometimes
forget.

random selection on itunes -
always in love by wilco to
shangri-la (lalalalala) by grandaddy
(and it's so sad they've moved on and
broke up the band, but everything changes
and they had a good run..)
raining again by moby - the
beat - a remix of rain pounding
down with the occasional poetic
line or two about love and/or
sadness - the madness of possi-
bilities. and then - meatloaf?!
how'd that get in here. hehe.
moving on - old U2 with spanish
eyes - skip one or two and
pausing on radio cure by
wilco. cheer up, honey,
i hope you can, to steal
a line from the closest thing
to country music i really truly
like.

silvery stars filling my mind too.

pause.

reflection in the glass that protects me
from the harshness of the barren moonscape.
you can never escape if you don't want to leave
and maybe someday i'll know exactly what that
means but for the moment the music washes
over me like a cool shower in the middle
of the hottest of summer days, refreshing.

kings and queens and things i've not yet seen.

distance has a way,
aye,
distance has a way...

and today was.

simply was.

because.

head sways with the music
as it washes over me,
through me, speaking
to me in a language
you won't find on
modern american
radio.

end transmission.