September 10, 2012
By SrDeVine GOLD, Sacramento, California
SrDeVine GOLD, Sacramento, California
18 articles 0 photos 0 comments

How many notes to my life?
How many beats from my teeth?
Could play through a night
Like a musician on a street?

Not enough
Not enough
Not enough rhymes have come from me
So I’ll find an instrument of love
One to teach me a beat
One to teach me to speak
One to teach me to walk, talk, play along with those around me
Without use of a music sheet,

I repeat your words like a roll of thunder
I use them as swords for a life’s plunder
And all somber musical chords,
And all these
Play a note
Or a stroke
That builds like white noise
That chokes on a repetitive position in my own voice,
And I just want to stop that music
And learn my own lessons
Even though I don’t have to
I’ll build some crescendos
Out of others perspectives
Yet I’m set with these frets
Learning from others regrets,

So I try and keep it all silent

And everyone else’s beats
Topple through the gaps of my teeth
So I sound like everyone else
But I’ll never learn piano
Because I don’t have to
I want to reimagine music
Make it with intent
Have my own classics
Whittle my own instrument
Make my words echo these days
Like notes on a page
With some made up phrases
And not even knowing how to play

But what I’m really saying is;
I’m caught up in a stream of ideas that aren’t mine
So I want to live by my own standards
And live in defiance
Of all that was given to me
Make it on my own and keep the rest silent

The author's comments:
feeling discontent but on the verge of the rest of my life

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