I know I was touched by the summer sun.
I wrote poetry inspired by her gentle fingers.
I felt the lingering warmth of her golden love.
But my memory is stolen by unyielding winter.

I do recall that she made me happy.
Her rays felt like bright lines of laughter.
Her light, a smile that I was forced to answer.
But now my tears freeze on this mournful face.

My mind may recall, and my tongue can recite.
My pen records, but my heart does not know.
I think of the sun, speak of her touch
Write of her feel, but I feel only cold.

I was touched by the summer sun
Now she only touches on these blankets of snow.
Winter has taken what was once between us
And now winter’s cold grasp is all that I know.

(This is an excerpt)

Let’s shake off the chains that are connected to our brains
Let’s be free from the land of the foolishly brave
Let’s not fight for causes where victory is a loss for us
Let’s find our own goals that mean more to us.
I cry tears of lyrics when I listen to our future generations degenerating,
As we squander education, it’s disgracing
And as I get older I feel guilt for the youth
Because it’s no longer what my parents did
Its about what I do.
I try to only think about finding solutions
But I’m lost in nostalgia, mirages, and illusions.
I can’t let the past sleep -
I fear it will be the deep sleep of the dead
And as I try to look ahead, I’m so afraid of what’s next . . .

They say music is universal.
But it seems so local
When closed minds form borders
Barring chords from harmony.
When I speak
Many closed ears don’t hear
Notes in a foreign tongue.
“What’s that different stuff?”
They want to hear what they know.
Music is plagued by xenophobes.

It takes dedication.
It takes dedication, and effort and work and time.
It takes focus, and knowledge, and . . . it’s hard.
It gives satisfaction
It gives satisfaction, and happiness and relief and joy.
It gives pride and pleasure and . . . it’s good.
It’s hard to achieve, its good to achieve.
Anything worth gaining hurts to get,
And I can testify to the truth of cliché with this blood sweat.
Tearing myself away from a possible future
Has proven impossible since I gained the knowledge -
“I can make it happen.”
And now it has happened.
I’m happy, feasting on the satisfaction,
Relieved to be free to be proud and pleased
With the result of the hard work and effort
That I put in for so long
Because I knew I had to be focused,
A living dedication to purpose.
But what do you propose comes next?

I was feeling silly today, so I started writing a sad song. The humour in this is inspired by some of the lyrics I’ve heard in country songs.

[chorus]
All the great songs are love songs
Extremely sad love songs
So for love of my art
I broke my own heart
Now I write love songs
Extremely sad love songs
But I hate my art
Because it’s broken my heart

[verse 1]
Our past was so perfect
That’s the reason for my tears
Remembering hurts
And pain’s not changed by years
When you would smile, I would smile
Because your happiness was my joy
And my heart would start singing
Making a joyful noise
We argued almost never
And I wanted you for forever
To love and to cherish
To appreciate and treasure
I felt lucky to have met you
And to have you love me
And I thought our love would be
Eternal until infinity
But something inside of me
Took issue with my bliss
When my pen would hit paper
It would produce blank pages
I found I couldn’t write
Without despair, tears and rages
I need pain and impatience
Anger, frustration
I mean who’s heard of good art
Conceived in positive emotions
Happiness brings a trickle
But pain makes an ocean
I needed to get open
To get creative juices flowing
I had to write my poems
That’s why our hearts are broken

Her face is perfect
Her attitude is the worst
She is so ugly

This is the first verse of a song I started writing a while ago. The song is from the perspective of a war veteran who has killed people in the course of duty. The other verses aren’t written yet

I try to wash my hands,
But this blood is in my mind.
It’s on the lids over my eyes,
So when I blink it’s still in sight.
It stalks me and it hides,
Staying close throughout my life
Makes me wish that I could die,
But it will find me after life.
Why’s this guilt on me?
I only did what I was ordered.
I was just a tool,
Not the leader of the slaughter.
Daughters, sons and mothers,
Fathers, sisters, and their brothers
Always smother me with blame,
And the shame paints my days,
And the pain seems to stay.
I would love to run away,
But there’s nowhere I can be
Where this guilt can’t find me.
Out damn spot!
I fucking hate the color red!
I’m so sorry yall are dead,
But please leave my head.
I can’t bring you back.
Acts can never be reversed.
I don’t deserve what I’m getting.
What must a do
To get a ghost to forgive me.
These phantoms stay with me,
Attacking my sanity,
And crying for their families.

(Chorus)
I’m sorry for my actions
And I’m sorry for the past
I’m sorry for the violence
Sorry I can’t take it back
I’m sorry for the bullets
And I’m sorry for the guns
I’m sorry for the bombs
I’m sorry for your loved ones

Its always one extreme
And if its not, then its another
That keeps the right balance
From ever being discovered
Too much of a good thing
Always ends up being bad
But it’s sad that most of the time
We lose sight of that fact
So we live out on limbs
Keeping it close to the edge
With minds firmly closed
And skulls harder than lead
And it screws with our heads
Because we know that we’re wrong
But it’s so hard to admit
Because ego’s that strong
And it can take a long time
To truly learn humility
But some of us do try
To the best of our abilities
But effort gets outshined
By more negative minds
Bad apple spoils the bunch
And I know that that’s right
And I’m not always right
Sometimes I really do fight
And I’m that bad seed
Trying to change from inside
But I seem to collide
With some impenetrable barrier
But I believe I can find
The strength to rise