My Musical Journey

Westernization effects the world. Battle scarred ground can be seen. This poem is about all things taken and then forgotten, because the past doesn't live on, life does. Unedited.

The world is battled in scars,

The feet are where the head should be;

the head where the hands,

A tale of unknown identity

clings between are lands

.

The teeth are where the face should be,

the toes upon the cheek

Some things said shouldn't be

Touches done, now caressed

Shouldn't be,

.

But the eyes, they rolled against me

from where they were beneath the tongue

Some things said are already done.

Looking up before me,

hills and valleys meet the eye

Of fleshy peach and nicely bloom

Pinks, and sunsets, purple and bruise!

.

I don't want to see the things I see

A distant quaking of earth

Rings in ears set behind me.

I don't want to see the things I see,

I don't want to hear the things I hear.

.

My hands are clasped

On something unknown

What I know, I'll soon call home

But when hands are the only thing that see

The only thing that grasp...

.

The Earth is shadows, ghost and mist.

Light and dark on electric sensations

The humble rumbling, of my own tremor

And the licking scent of something nice...

Warm and new; pliant beneath my grasp. 

.

I can hear...something new.,

I don't want...Ears want the past

That is dull and lull and numbing,

Dark and Quaking, but I hear

the future calling to, and I see...

.

Something New.

I don't want to trust it.

Can I forgive it?

The Earth is battled in scars;

drench and revitalized in blood gone bad

We never want to see it again,

But the thing is still living

And all memory and love,

Is still alive

family is sill here;

Hills have grassy green

Birds and buzzing and humming

In the skies, through trees

Fumbling newborn life, trifles new paths

Under elder mother's watchful eyes

And paternal guides are nigh to far.

.

I don't want to see it,

but rivers unknown, rung the wrong way

And flesh of my own, reintegrated

Are thrumming. Life is still and new

When the Earth is renewed, so am I

In little limbs and big old eyes

scrambling for warmth and texture

...The scent of milk lingers on...

.

Something new is taking flight;

opening eyes, setting its legs

Standing and smelling for the first time

A new composition, a new mind

My heart can grasp this new taking,

Eyes can forgive, Ears can hear a calling

The mind will forget, for the heart

It is still living.