In the spirit of cataloging, this was a poem I wrote years ago. It’s full of teenage angst, but has a neat meter and I kinda love it in a cheesy way. Half of me thinks I should delete the first verse…

With music as my basis,
I travel distant places,
My mind’s a distant dream
My darkness falls in flames
The world still plays its games
And I’ll always be the same:
A soul without a name,
A dream without an aim,
Desperately searching for love
Without the obligatory shame.

Music is special,
It melts the mettle we cover our emotions with,
Brings barriers down;
A smile can quickly turn to frown,
Or happiness come from being down.
You can’t lie to it,
I’d like to die to it,
If love were a bed I’d lie in it;
‘Cause music be the food of love,
The Raven and the Dove,
The world beneath the physical,
The rest beneath the syllable,
With wisdom no less than magical,
My God music is so special.