Walking between the shadows
of my tossing and turning dreams,
knowing most tomorrows will be the same.
Standing on the stage
hoping the band has all one theme,
and living my tomorrows without blame.
In any mystic journey,
it's traveling to an end,
and even if I hurry,
doesn’t promise I’ll extend,
the many miles of roads
I’ve taken for a ride,
doesn’t matter who I’ve owed,
just matters that I’ve tried.
I've been downsized
and told so much
that I've eluded truth
since my youth
and ended with animosity.
Of all those distant instant goodbyes
which always left a strain
on all those hurt feelings from lies
that were soon washed down the drain.
Walking down those stairways
of forgotten shakes and smiles,
hoping my tomorrows were anew.
Running from the yelling cries
of fans all down the aisles,
while just waiting for a place
to rest my blues.
Stumbling over failures,
that have been swept under the rug,
while wishing all the lumps would disappear.
My father was a miller
that gave insufficient hugs,
and I've regretted that throughout the years.
A rock ‘n’ roll singer, I came to be,
without a clue of what I was to know.
To become that of a stranger
not knowing danger to and fro.
I wove love into mysteries
that seem to rhyme well with the next
and harmonized the sea breeze
so my thoughts weren't so perplexed.
I found myself a resting place,
a dream called Monterey,
and I’m still in my middle phase
creating hooks in which to play.
#4) Picture courtesy of roti-hidup.blogspot.com and by Roti Hidup: Penghakiman
This poem is a rhyming free verse or a poem without meter trying to keep a type of tempo. I'll see if I've succeeded.
HOOK-that part of a song or poem that stands out in one's memory.
This is an autobiographical and philosophical concept of my history of music up until now.