Concert
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( Based on Manchester Bombing, 2017, and the death of Saffie Roussos. )
"Come on Ashlee, you promised you'd get up and dance!"
I look at my little sister, her grin and stubborn stance,
There was a festive redolence wafting in the night air, lingering in conjunction with an Irish melody. As I ambled further along this rustic path, something stifled my progress.
The guitarist wrinkles his face
as he concentrates with dignity.
He flips the page on the stand,
and adjusts his fingers accordingly.
The acoustic guitar resonates
Just a second agoThe magnificent flowThe room filled with soundThe noises that drownedVibration, scientifically speakingThis is what I've been seeking
Although I've never been a fan of foreign touch, seas of person pull me under with a swaying current. Escape your head,crawl out of your mind,temporal lobe knows what's best right now. Outside Los Angeles is itching to start her nightly routine o
Flawless Music
I retain all these faults that could make me flawless,
I can write rhymes, tell the time, though I really shouldn’t floss less.
Still darkness engulfs me
Like a sea of liquid ink
When a hand palms my chest
Bashing like a bomb
Bashing like a bomb
Rhythmically
Just as I take the offensive
I see the mistaken oppressor
Chitter Chatter in the back ground;
Ignore it,
Focus.
Tonight’s the night.
You go on stage,
Lay it all on the line,
Show everyone your soul
Lay it out in the open.
Music,
The notes fall off the page
You listen to the beat
The melody that flows
Tap your foot
That’s the groove that you love to listen to
Batcha
The drums go
Guitar riffs, bass lines
Drum beats, vocal harmonies
It fills you up
And I keep listening in hopes my cup will never be full
When you feel music like I do
And it keeps you alive
A simple butterfly before you start
The sweaty palms and warming up.
All your worries and fears come flying in
When in all despair, I go there
Waiting in the wings
Where heart will soar and spirit fly
Waiting in the wings
All goes dark on the scheduled mark
Waiting in the wings
The theatre is all I know and love.
I pour my pain into a role, hoping it will cease.
But it never does.
It's a curse to be an actor.
It's not glamorous. It's not happy.
It's not fame. It's not money.
I have coffee breath but it is worth it.
I had concert breath and sleep deprivation
but it is worth it
to feel the energy of
a dark room with only the stage lights
and an acoustic guitar
Pounding speakers, screaming fans
It’s strange to think how this all began.
A simple story about a an orphaned boy
That conquered evil and changed my life.
It was a tale of two
She was Hip
He was Hop
They met in a frequency
That no other knew of
At a pace so fast
That they left others behind
Since that moment
They stood hand in hand
Music is my life
Some would say it is my wife
I will attend school for music education
To get out of my current situation
Music is a little seed
That is now easy to read
It's that aching feeling
That rush
That spark in your pupils.
As you look up, you see that man.
He's commanding every soul in the room.
How though? How can it be.
Standing in line, anxiously waiting to enter the venue, I feel
This strange connection with the people around me.
All of them here for the same reason as I.
To bask in the sweet sound of our passion.