Poetry Compilation

Here is Will Wood’s story:

On a beautiful and blessed day, he was born, shading his self under the leaves of his family tree, and, “Originally meant to live a  miracle”.

As magic and poetic as should be, he woke up in a world as chaotic as can be,

And he’s now progressing into a journey, rather an odyssey, that won’t leave him the same.

Nostalgic of who he used to be, he  might suffer of forgetting his self,

He might want to find his self again, he might manage to find his self again, well, kind of…

Among so many ifs and maybes, the only certainties are that Will is rising his consciousness in quest of his true self

Escaping a (hallucinatory) reality and ripping off false identities he might have made of himself,

As he stares in his mirror, Will would create his own truths to acknowledge who he’s outta be, ‘that is God to [him]’.

Being who you are, unapologetically, and the simple fact to just Be, whatever the environment and its influences, whatever the time and space: this, is goddish.


From Paris with Love, they stand there to resist the inevitable,

Their heart as warm as the burning Southern Sun that they keep dreaming of, like Icarus used to,

They walk to the path leading to less excess in a world dry as a desert,

Looking for more access to purity, the new idea of success and glory.

Future may look gloomy, but “there will be sunshine, though the forecast is grey.”


Life goes on and Time, free as a bird, flies by so fast, you cannot catch the present moment

Everything is on a movement, mindset, living, love, and you can’t take anything for granted

Excepted maybe the Freedom you feel, when you let yourself go along some sweet music

Dancing making you feel alive again.


There she stands, over there she looks, she woke up this morning, fully feeling alive,

Curious to know how the wind blows and if Tomorrow shall ever keep all its promises,

Lessons of the past and prayers for the future, she lives better when she enjoys her present time,

Even though she’s walking in the thick of the mist, she believes nothing is impossible,

Or rather, she believes it’s impossible not to make it to the end.


Sky’s the limit, they say

Love is boundless, she says

In her dreams, she’s Been To The Moon,

And her face is as bright as the stars in her stare.

She feels right when she dances wild and sings out loud,

And people who find a reflect in her Soul end up as loud and proud:

That’s how you get right.

She is Stelle Amor, stellar singer-songwriter and blazing performer from Nashville.


She had a purpose and a straight vision of where she wanted to get

Yet, the path that leads to a true fulfillment, her achievement, isn’t so straight and snakes,

Walking on and on, to the light of Lightning Bugs, like a Wandering Soul that Can’t Sleep at night

This would not shake her determination, this could not knock her hustle, she got too much Soul.

Dedicated, she steps and finesses, despite a path made of Crooked Lines.

She’s Rebekah Todd, and she made it through her odyssey to release her new album!


She dives in a pool full of love, lost to the illusion of a beautiful dream,

Sleeps in an ocean of salty memories, that go back and forth in the back of her mind like tide and waves.

Wakes up in a bathtub full of tears with a leak of love, lone and weak

She lays and wonders if she’ll ever bloom again from her wounds

And finds the answer in a dogwood still Standing;

She still believes in Love.

She is Melody Federer, and she incarnates freedom when it comes to feelings and emotion.


As Boston green trees are raining Autumn Leaves

She flies and leaves for a white winter wonderland, Sweden.

Here she is now, in Stockholm, a place she calls home,

A home for herself and her creativity, recording her debut album and studying Jazz.

Her name is Jessica Curran, and it’s safe to say her voice deserves the listen.


Long lone walk along narrow mental walls

Prisoner of thoughts and unanswered questions

In hope for responses, in prey for hesitation

Self-blaming overcoming self-confidence

Standing here and there, crazy how your doubts have you dance.

Major key to set free from this mental prison is believing and trusting yourself.


Bright as the moonlight when it rises,

Warmer than the moonlight when it shines,

Goes down quicker than the sun does at night

Amazes when lit, yet never warns of its blaze

Started out with an ignition, ended up with a desolation

The fire two people make can turn the awe into the woe,

And Caroline Lazar, raised in Atlanta, based in Miami, just learnt how to start a fire,

Metaphorically speaking about her dazed and confused emotions.


Wouldn’t it be great if silly fears were to disappear?

Wouldn’t it be great if people’s woes were to become awes?

Wouldn’t it be great if the rain could wash away your tears and pain?

Wouldn’t it be great if we were to live all merry and leave all worries?

Wouldn’t it be great to simply rise our voice and rejoice?

These are a lot of questions, and we might not have all the answers

Unless we let ourselves go into the Merideth Grace Puckett’s Perfect World.


And when I step
into the lobby
See my face
And holla at me
I’m not too hot
For you to hold me
Truth is that
I’m feeling so blessed
Why is that
Some of you may ask
Number one
Woke up this morning
Number two

Just keep the faith
Believe in fate
I cultivate
What motivates
To do things great
I sing ‘How Great’
And contemplate
Food in my plate
I close my eyes, “Amazing grace”

Fool is who
Miracles cannot recognize

Let Me get to my point Number Three
Cause I can count here real good homies
Not only there for fancy ladies,
Cray-crazy ladies or hot crazy parties,
But truly there right for thee and right for me
Never do they fail to feel your pain
And fill you with power
When you lack of power,
Feeling wack and weak
And about to weep
Before you sleep
Slipping all depressed
Into mad sadness
Dreaming of nightmares
And success
A concept you and I kept running
For nights and days,
Dazed and confused
Like in Pursuit for Happyness

I Remember the days
When they kept my head up
Family member to me
They felt like
These brand new contacts
They have  big impacts
In your daily life
Lucky me to testify.

And when I step
into the lobby
See my face
And holla at me
I’m not too hot
For you to hold me
Truth is that
I’m feeling so blessed
Why is that
You already know why.


Couldn’t tell my rights nor my wrongs 

So I penned my rhymes all alone 

Inspired to turn a few poems into new songs

Questionning what’s going on

A strong anthem to sing along

Mainly concerned about wisdom 

Unlike the merely conscious ones

Considered to be the only ones

That naive younger ones 

Are told to look up to, on and on 

And on; a new generation 

A miseducation 

 And the same stories go on

Time flies by Earth turns round

An old cycle driving psycho 

Every White, Yellow, Black and Brown people 


Once upon a time 

Not too long ago 

I used to switch on my TV 

Looking for superheroes 

But there were no found heroes

Not even relevant shows 

So, So what did I do?

I switched off my tiny TV 

Walked down to the city 

Right in These Streets 

Checking out the ones that I call friends

Going out and shaking hands

You know da, da-da 

Respectable men and worthy women 

Parenting and raising children

The next generation 

Givin em life lessons 

Before they’re grown up

And waste the time of their life

Loosing sight on what is right 

Over useless does

Dirty vices Bad advices 

Hypnotized until reality comes and surprises 

Nightmares happen to come true 

I guess we need to wake up to some new 

The real world with a real worth before it gets real worse 

Believe me I think we should revise our purpose

Cause we’ve been playing this losing-game

For ever too long 

How about we rewind in time 

In the past to correct our mistakes 

Rewrite our history 

Taking responsibilities 

So one day maybe we can get back our dignity 

Come on with me 

Let us set up a new path 

So we can step right to the best part of the promised land.


Tourner la page

Est parfois plus sage

Car la Terre elle, Continue de tourner

Mais leur monde Ne tourne plus rond

Chaque jour  Une nouvelle histoire

S’écrit dans ses mémoires

Les leçons du passé

Helas outre passées

Toutes oubliées

L’histoire se répète

Et ne vaut plus la peine  D’être encore lue

En continu

Assez… chaque jour Suffit sa peine

Mais j’ai peine à croire Que demain déjà

Sera bel et bien Un nouveau jour Sous le soleil

“Rien de nouveau Sous le soleil”

Comme il est coutume de dire

La nuit nous portera conseil

Chandelle en cire

Encre noire et plume

Sous la pleine lune

Avec toutefois La foi en un meilleur lendemain

Par trois fois je tape des mains

Au moment où cette prière prend fin

Apaisé d’un calme divin

Le réveil s’accompagne d’un refrain

Qui vent puis revient

Et s’entonne avec entrain

Nouvelle aube ce matin

Espérons que le reste se passera bien.


As I was

Walking up in these streets

Did I find fine backstreet artists:

They would band, to bang the blank walls

With colors brighter

Than the flash of

The city spotlights;

My hood never looked so cool,

Either right at noon

Or in the dead of night

When it’s cold as ice

And not too nice

To step outside.

I was thrilled, I was chilling

Been watching their paintings

Pinpoiting the meaning

That my dearest elders

Define as a lifestyle

Where Life is a freestyle

As free as a butterfly;

Call it Da #HipHop style.

Man, I’m a huge fan

Wouldn’t even tell a lie

And I swear I feel like

These backstreet artists

Could be quite good old friends of mine.


Life is like a freestyle

You never know what’ll be the next rhyme

But you always hope to get back in line

Alright and right on time.


Sometimes I smoke and blow my pain
Metaphorically through vain rhymes that I’ve tried to pen
It actually happens more often than I would ever confess it
And you ain’t gotta believe it Nor even to hear it
Go and ignore it if you will
So that I won’t need
To hide anymore my feelings
Cause damn I feel so ill
On top of a hill, long staring at the bottom
And I’m scared of the sight
I wouldn’t tell a lie.

Somebody told me once that I was bright
And that I was gon’ be alright
Words that brought to me so much light
My eyes would’ve gone blind
Yet instead it inspired my state of mind
And gave me an answer to the question “Who Am I?”
And gave me a brighter vision and a better sight
And made me realize
How much a written or spoken word can heal the wounds of somebody’s life.

Marcus Drumming Poet


Extrait N.8
Quand un enfant regarde le ciel par la lucarne de sa fenêtre, il rêve du meilleur des mondes et s’imagine une belle vie

Mais l’enfant refuse de grandir, il a peur d’affronter la vie
Un adulte voit cet enfant, et se rappelle les premières années de sa vie

Tel un homme qui voit dans son miroir, et y contemple le reflet de ses regrets et succès qui l’ont conduit à mener la vie qu’il vit

Quand une femme prend son miroir et décide de couper ses longs cheveux, elle prend un nouveau départ dans sa vie

Mais cet homme ne supporte plus sa vue dans son miroir, autant qu’il ne supporte plus sa vie

Quand cet homme demeure tête baissée bras croisés, sous la douche, il médite sur son passé, camouffle ses larmes, et se lave des erreurs de sa vie

Quand il sort de cette douche, c’est un homme propre et soigné qui se sent bien dans ses chaussures et est prêt à affronter la vie

La vie est sa bataille, la balle est dans son camp,

Quand bien même il sait que la mort l’attend à l’autre bout du champ,

Il reste campé sur ses positions, et entonne heureux un dernier chant

Qui peut-être inspirera l’enfant qui s’imagine une belle vie à apprendre les paroles de ce chant.


Spreading two weak wings

To catch one second wind

Might lead you for the win

Then help you to believe in

Some of the things you were up to give in.

These ones observing you evolving and flying

Over the landscape of the comfort zone you used to sleep in

Will notice how much waking up to a dream come true is mind-blowing.

Poetically yours.


Extrait N°7 Du Soir, Bonsoir:
Aigris, j’écris ce qui décrit au plus précis
Mon ressenti vis-à-vis de cette amie que j’évite
En dépit de ses invitations multiples à son domicile.
Éprise de ma timide personne, elle me fixe à maintes reprises.
Pris dans les filets d’une séductrice, cette fille au talent d’actrice
Maîtrise l’art d’expliciter un désir et simuler son plaisir.
Tentatrice aux subtiles techniques, peu docile et facile à irriter,
L’angélique di-ablesse, tantôt ludique, tant sadique,
A tout appris de l’art de faire souffrir
Celui qui ne sait la chérir selon ses envies.
C’est une artiste lorsqu’il s’agit de lui fragiliser l’esprit.
À plusieurs reprises la dite “Lady” a-t-il tenté de quitter.
Son pitch a-t-il récité timidement:
“Mille excuses, Milady
Mais de vous à moi, ça risque de ne plus être possible”.
La sachant susceptible et imprévisible,
Il imagine le pire et se dit qu’il vaut mieux ne rien dire.
Intriguée, la diva finit par le deviner,
Maligne, elle tire un sourire ironique
Puis finit par rire tout en s’écriant ceci:
” Mon petit, on ne quitte pas si facilement
Celle qui ta vie peut rendre l’envers du Paradis ;
Bel-Ami, je t’en prie, appelle-moi Lucie Ferre !”
– Marcus Drumming Poet –


Extrait N°6 du jour, Bonjour:
Vous ne me connaissez pas
Mais je me connais
Et j’ai peur de me reconnaître
Dans le miroir des actions
Reflétant la contradiction de mes pensées.
Insensé, je fais face à des choses
Que je comprends sans comprendre.
Pardonnez l’expression mais tout cela me laisse con.
Confus, je sombre dans une noire réflexion.
Abandonné à moi-même, je tente
De discerner les couleurs et les nuances
D’un environnement complexe à dépeindre…
Une myriade de préoccupations
Sur mon esprit fait pression.
De mille milliers de mots une énumération
Sur chacun de ces mots, un million d’interrogations:
“Une famille” “son fils, sa fille” ;
“Cette fille, ma femme” “l’ami, l’amant”
” Amer” “sa mère, son père”
J’en perds tous mes repères.
Qui ment dit vrai
Et frêle illusion
Accouche de réelles désillusions
Je me couche tard et me lève tôt…
Il est possible que je pense trop.
– Marcus Drumming Poet –


Extrait N°5 du soir, Bonsoir :
Tandis qu’il s’engage dans ce travail
Qui sa routine dessine et à la lassitude le destine
Je choisis de m’engager dans une carrière
Pour le dessein duquel je trace mon destin.
Tandis qu’il s’engage dans ce travail
Qui chaque matin de son sommeil le tire
Je conserve et préserve ce rêve peut-être prémonitoire à mon éveil
Qui m’émerveille et m’inspire.
Tandis qu’il s’engage dans ce travail
Qui son bien-être trouble et sa santé travaille
Vaillamment je brave ma vigoureuse dépression ;
Pesante pression sur mon épaule droite…
Je manque d’un bras droit pour m’épauler.
Lui et son travail, s’habituent à un confort devenu inconfortable,
Moi pour ma carrière, me tue à la tâche tâchant d’achever ce pourquoi
Ma lampe de chevet demeure allumée chaque nuitée
Jusques à quatre heures et quatre minutes du matin.
Là réside la différence entre un travail et une carrière :
Selon la vision et l’ambition, “marche arrière”
Sont deux mots à jamais interdits du vocabulaire…
Ceci dit, la contrepartie est comme suit:
Si le suiveur succombe à la lassitude,
Le leader, lui, tombe dans la solitude.
Heureux et comblé, celui qui parvient à la plénitude,
Début de sa béatitude.
– Marcus Drumming Poet –


Extrait N°4, du jour, Bonjour:
“Onirique mystère
Apparitions brèves mais claires
Sans trêves se répétèrent
La nuit dernière et la nuit d’avant-hier.
Sans pouvoir guère y déchiffrer
Les caractères distinctement gravés
Sur la face cachée d’une pierre elle-même cachée
Au fond d’une rivière humide de secrets bien gardés
Que l’on ne tarde d’oublier.
Ce n’est point à l’aube mais bien au crépuscule
Qu’à mon habitude je me lève, perplexe, et déambule
Dans une bulle qui de subtilités pullule.
Hanté par le sens de ces rêves, je suis crédule
À toute hypothèse que l’on me suggère
Avec ce sentiment cependant qu’il n’y a rien à faire :
Jamais n’éluderai-je cet onirique mystère”

– Marcus Drumming Poet –


Extrait N°3 du Soir :
“Pas le temps pour la frime
Peu de place pour ses rimrs
Il broie du noir, dos au placard, il a le cafard.
Hier soir, sa fiancée s’est fait la malle, lui a fait du mal
Puis l’effaça de sa mémoire.
Dos au mur, la douleur dure, demeure et l’abat ;
Innocence pure, troublée par la rancœur d’un coeur qui bat
Le tempo crescendo du naïf amoureux
Embrassant le chemin du natif haineux.
Vers vous son regard, embrasant
Pour vous son égard, inexistant.
Sa passion, écrasante
Sa compassion, bien absente…
L’absinthe de son amer souffrance la tête lui tourne sans cesse
Infernales tourmentés, cet obscur spiritueux tient de son ivresse
Tristesse, détresse, et paresse
D’imaginer à nouveau l’idéale déesse
Créatrices des plus belles tendresses jamais rêvées, jamais désirées…
Mais désirs tant éprouvés, blessés par tant de bassesse
” Et c’en est assez” se dit-il.
Son amour, origine d’une éclatante cécité
Sa haine, origine d’une rayonnante clarté
Son pardon, origine d’une espérée liberté
Son amé, en quête de tranquillité
Son esprit en quête de légèreté
Son corps, pour la beauté
… Ses rimes, son havre de paix
À bon port dérivera le poète.”

– Marcus Drumming Poet –


Extrait du soir N°2 :

Chatoillant, doux et apaisant ombrage,
Abris prisé des petits hommes au bâtons de pluie
Dont le puits de sagesse ne s’épuise jamais
De rafraichir les consciences des enfants devenus grands
De rafraichir les esprits des passants ayant pris racine
Si longtemps que les feuilles de leur jeunesse allaient flétrir
Ayant flirté avec la première fleur rencontrée
Sur le chemin de leur vieillesse en pleine floraison
Sur le chemin de leur vieillesse en pleine dépression
Sur le chemin de leur jeunesse en pleine guérison.”

– Marcus Drumming Poet –


Extrait N°1 Du Soir, Bonsoir
“Dans le blanc de ses yeux pouvait-on lire avec clarté
Les fines et sinueuses lignes qui dessinent sa vérité.
Persuadé d’en dépeindre une fidèle réalité
C’est de fait l’éclatant reflet de sa cécité
Qu’il projette à la face des ignorants aveuglés
Curieux d’avancer dans l’obscurité”

 – Marcus Drumming Poet –


Looking for light in the dark

Can a smiling face be a lying face?

Irony is laughing hard, I hear

Deep in the heart lies the truth

In my mind read the answer

Click pause and rewind,

Indeed you heard what you thought you heard

Didn’t hurt yet

Until that drip-drop noise out of your eyes

Little did you know, shall you blow your nose

Looking for light in the dark

Just like me, you put a smile on your face

A smile lay on your face all day

Everyday cries your heart, I can hear it

Every night the same prayers in your mind, I can read them

Click pause and rewind

Still looking for lyrics that rhyme with Happiness

To put an end to this never-ending Sadness

Before Summertime follows up Springtime


Just Chillin’
Smile upon my face
Mama in my mind
Faith in my heart
Music in my mouth
Little money in my big hands
Ambitious on a mission
Eyes raised up high towards my vision
Counting My Blessings
My blessings left, my blessings up next


Bleeding Passion

Painful Impression

Blazing Face

Facing Blessings

Mercy Testifying

Crying Smile

Popping Heart

Hopping Hips

We Try To Stay Blessed


When days turn fast to dark night
When nights last without moonlight
When sun looks like too long to shine yet
Desperately dreaming of the heat in the morning
My skin never seems to feel
Hit by the nightly wind of my illusions, cold as ice
Waking me up to the world of my disillusions, raining sky,
Leading me to a shelter of questions without answers
Answers endlessly expected like the dawn in an endless dark night
Fears appear to be hard to fight and,
Hope looks like too long to shine yet and,
What’s life without hope? And,
What’s worse than living hopeless?
Maybe leaving your Faith…


Visualizing things while the Music keeps playing
Like having hallucinations under the drug of Imagination
Voicing words before realizing their true meaning
Shaping a sharp reality you’d either forever anticipate
Yet if the dream doesn’t come true, its desperate expectation gets you through of it
And you’re voicing words faking their true meaning
Shaping that ideal you regret, hardly able to respect the reflection of your face
Ashamed in the mirror of the glass, exposing your mistakes and
The best that you still underestimate.
… Listen again, watch again, think again
What you hear is what you believe, what you see is what you get:
So is the poetry of this life.


Acuestado por el suelo, suele soñar de ese sueño lo que desaperece cuando aparecen esos primeros rayos del sol,

Y eso le deja un otro sentimiento poético


Reading someone whose blood is is his pen
And whose lines might be as precious as antic scribes’
Listening to something that allows my soul to vibe
Out of my body a part of my heart beats again,
Healing that whole bleeding pain
Receiving cure instead of curse is a blessing, of course
Never-ending feeling of life, tasting like honey
Better sweet than bittersweet


Sitting on the bay waving to the leaving boat
sipping a bittersweet drink that I shouldn’t have bought
seeing my friend, my relative, my partner going away as this boat flows on its way
my feelings now taste just like that drink:
I should let it go, I would, if I could,
Truth is I just can’t let it go, #OhLawd


“If You’re Not Making Someone Else’s Life Better

You’re Wasting Your Time” – Will Smith.

So, it’s been over one year that musicians, singers, songwriters, artists,
All as many as the stars in the sky,
All aspiring to be the next Music Stars and to testify if really Sky’s The Limit,
Have showed some love back, have let their emotions out,
Having read the Sounds So Beautiful’s reviews, which are, as poetical as possible
Written to support their work and spread the word of their lyrical songs and music projects.
If discovering music is the main aim of this blog,
Discovering and feeling the artists’ emotions is the most delightful by far.
Sharing these moments of happiness
Should be as inspiring as sharing someone’s art and music through one powerful live performance.
This is my turn to tell you “Thank You”.

– Feel The Vibe –


La vie est comme un recueil de poèmes
Tous les vers ne riment pas ensemble,
Et s’ils riment, certains riment pauvre, d’autres riment riche, et d’autres encore ne riment que suffisant


I wish I were a happy daydreamer to who everything seems alright

So to my nightly nightmares, the sun would bring more light.

I wish I were awake in a world that my heroes used to dream of

So my hopes wouldn’t fall so easily when comes the earthquake shaking off

And reviving a pain that never felt so real, alas…

I wish I rose like a red rose upon a fresh and green grass

So I could stand my ground, not ashamed of exposing my exploding colors, exhaling the smell of a beautiful confidence.

I wish I saw myself as a champion

So I would realize every single scene from the play of my imagination

My imagination, actually my vision, I wish I entrusted more

So in this freezing cold winter, the heat of a faith would keep me warm for ever more

With that Fire that Faith can make.

I wish you had that faith too

So you’d fell less helpless and put some more hope in your dreams and you

Just Like I should do


I’ve always been staring at Stars, like they were higher than Sky itself

They, always down upon me were looking, reminding me how tiny am I and shall I be

But I ain’t upset, as dreams from the dead of night lead my eyes on the way to one shining sunset

Enlighting my life with a new dawn, a new day, a new dare

The dare to always reach the Skyline itself and looking down on Stars staring at me


“Got too deep in the deep”, emerging from your waters you need to wake up to reality.

Her everyday life used to be defined in the love she used to find

Into the one that used to make her feel naked

She’d like to keep on swimming in a hypnotic illusion,

Stuck in a painful dream.

The music she wants to listen to, may suddenly stop;

Deep silence playing instead,

While another kind of music is playing somewhere else.

Shouldn’t she be so naive

Fortunately a shy light may shine bright

Getting out from a torturous hypnosis

Waking up to the true reality in which it feels good to swim endlessly.


In every story, one character evolves.

Just like a seed into a virgin field

That happens to grow up on a ground less and less green,

And, fed and warmed up by his passions shining like a sunrise

The brillant character, into numerous experiences gets involved.


What you need is what you forget
What you see is what you neglect
Respect is what you expect
What you seed is what you get
Regret is what your face reflects


Music is her fruit she gives you with her sweet voice

Dancing shall be the shape of her fruit

And beauty the essence of such a juicy fruit.


When Music is on, “the worst” sounds like the best in the world

When Beauty shows off, one gets stuck in a kind of illusion

When Dancing is on the move, Music masters your soul
Infatuated with a Beauty that is making you a fool,

But, in your and ears and mind, this sounds so beautiful.


His “Reason Why” came along
This season when people get on
Too easily to stay too long.
Happened not too long ago though;
All was going perfect though:
“Big balling homies, chilling with my dawgs!”
Was what he was screaming out loud
“The Love Of My Life” the Erykah Badu’s song
She was singing out loud.
Their eyes crossed and suddenly stopped:
“Hey sista how you doin’?”
By a simple and shy smile replying,
Magic seemed to be happening
Matter fact, tragic was occurring.


Either the dancer swinging unwillingly to the rythme of an uncertain system beating your life up,
Either a light soul, free as the wind, feeling life… If so, the human that you are dances on his own rythme, moving with harmony.


Feeling sad, feeling bad
Headphones on, playlist loading.
Alone in the highway, alone everyday, alone anyway.
Music moving, from ears to heart
Healing the hurts, cleaning the dirt,
Dancing moves follow, this feelin though
Putting this smile on the face,


Music is taking you high
You feel like flying
Your mind as light and free as birds
You’re reaching the skyline.


Expressing yourself is an obvious sign of humankind

Dancing is an obvious sign of expressing yourself.

Either the playlist goes slow or fast

Either you go up or down
As long music plays, life goes on anyway.


It’s evocating a mood at the time
It’s what I crave, kind of a sensation of lust
It’s what unchains my spirits
It’s perspires all my own inspiration
It’s make me feel as light as it is itself
It’s my soulmate, it’s the instrument of my bliss, of my happiness. For once, it’s not the drums nor the piano nor the trumpet nor the violin but… the acoustic guitar.

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