Music Is

Music is the voice of the soul–
The melody of pain and pleasure
Intertwined within the bonds of memory,
Of denial, of joy and sadness.

Music is the face of life–
The highs and lows of the notes,
The contours–scars and scratches,
Every day’s soothing touches.

Music is the mirror of my being–
The reflection of the beauty and insanity that I take
The illusion of smiles and laughter I give,
Reality and illusion, at the same place and time.

Music is the flavor of the seasons–
Seasons of madness, of purity, of greatness
Seasons of failure, of frustration and success
The aroma and taste of the sweet, savory life.

Music  is the voice when you can’t speak
The strength when you are weak
The tears when you have none to shed
The blood when you think you’re dead.


How You Stand on Your End in My Perspective

To be called yours again,
To belong to you again
No matter how apparent, how faint–
Is like music to my heart and soul

To know that you mind,
To see you’re neither blind
Nor oblivious of the things I say
Melts the stone in my heart away

To feel, and to hear
To touch, and to be near
Are the things I’ll look forward to
But today, these shall do

To know that my hoping isn’t in vain–
That I am remembered, eases the pain
That you yourself caused,
And I myself allowed you to cause

To know that you are at the other end of this promise
And to know that your words won’t vanish
Dries my tears away, and lifts my spirits up
Lights up my face, smiling through the gaps.

‘Til I Become a Husk of My Being

I’m letting all out–

Speak ’til I’m out of words,
Shout ’til my voice runs out,
Cry ’til I’m out of tears.
Give ’til I’m all spent.

Adjust ’til I’m bent
Hate ’til can’t
Hurt ’til I’m numb
Care ’til I don’t.

Sing ’til all songs run out of melodies
Remember all things ’til they fade from my memories
Mourn every bitterness ’til I’m all over them
Celebrate good things ’til I can finally relive them.

All these and more,
‘Til I become an empty shell of myself
A husk of the former me
Where a new one– a better one
May breathe into being

Am I the Only One

Am I the only one
Who remembers people’s faces:
Eyes, nose, lips, everything–
Everyone’s, except mine?

Am I the only one
Who recognizes voices
And match them to their owners,
But gets surprised by my own?

Am I the only one
Who recalls other people’s little life events,
No matter how trivial,
But remains foreign from my own history?

Am I the only one
Who tells people to take things easy,
And that it’ll be fine,
When I’m half convinced myself?

Am I the only one
Who makes people believe
That I am strong,
When I just wanted to cry all along?

Am I the only one
Who values thoughts and ideas so much,
But are terrified of them,
Especially my own?

Am I the only one?
I hope I am not.

Dad to Mom (In My Mind)

I haven’t had the chance
To tell you how I feel
When you hurt me–

I haven’t had the chance
To tell you what I think
Of the decisions you made,

I haven’t had the chance to tell you
That of all the things you did
And the things you didn’t,
It is you that I forgive.

Being All Too Human

I’m not perfect:
I get insecure
I get bitter, and envious
And so do you.

I’m not perfect:
I hate, I tease
I get mood swings and pimples
And so do you.

You’re not perfect:
You feel inadequate
You lie, you swear
And so do I.

You’re not perfect:
You feel exhausted
You trip, you fail
And so do I.

Nobody’s perfect:
We forget, we mess up
We break promises
We all do.

Nobody’s perfect:
We yell, we get mad
At one point we wish someone dead
We all do.

It’s pointless do deny,
There’s no need to hide
For we all are guilty,
Varying on levels only.

And so, I could only forgive
And understand
When I know we’re equals
On being all too human.