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Nobody can tell ya
There's only one song worth singing
They may try and sell ya
Cause it hangs them up to see someone like you
But you've gotta
Make your own kind of Music
Sing your own special song
Make your own kind of Music
Even if no body else sings along
You're gonna be nowhere
The loneliest kind of lonely
It may be rough going
Just to do your thing's the hardest thing to do
Make your own kind of Music
Sing your own special song
Make your own kind of Music
Even if no body else sings along
So if you cannot take my hand
And if you must be going
I will understand
You've gotta
Make your own kind of Music
Sing your own special song
Make your own kind of Music
Even if no body else sings along
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My foundations
are in the universe
my spirit is universal
despite all pressures against me
to choose sides
black or white
man or woman
gay or straight
I am still a child
and an old woman
my blood is red
my choice is not to choose
I cannot choice
I am the exception to the rule of choice
I am one and all without exception
I defy the rules
I am me.
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Sweet little cherry blossom,
blooming before her time
Moving her lips to her favorite song,
cherishing every rhyme
Swaying her hips to the rhythm,
humming along with the tune
Lost in her own little dream world
Slow dancing with the moon
Watching her I cannot help,
but go back in my mind
And suddenly I find I am 15 again
Slow dancing with the moon
Oh, the stars got in my eyes long time ago
And I've lived my life like a love sick clown
In a bittersweet cartoon
Just a dreamy eyed kid
Slow dancing with the moon
Watching the girl I'm reminded
she's quite a lot like me
Trapped in the suburbs of wonderland,
lost in her own fantasy
Somehow my heart never grew up,
no one ever burst my balloon
So here I am swirling in star dust,
slow dancing with the moon
Still believe some day my wildest dreams
will all come true
And I'll find someone who'll
make me 15 again
But until then I'm
Slow dancing with the moon
Oh, the stars got in my eyes long time ago
And I've lived my life like a love sick clown
In a bittersweet cartoon
Just a dreamy eyed kid
Slow dancing with the moon
Sunday, April 03, 2005
From my breast pocket, draw out a small box, tap out a cigarette. A snap, a crackle, a spark, and the tip of the cigarette lights. The tiny glow of light in the cold city street. The tiny warmth, before the coldness of reality. I take a long drag and look at the newest victim, destined to become a file number. Exhale slowly and watch the smoke rising up into the city.A series of moments. Feel the burn in your throat. Heat. Energy. Coffee and cigarettes. Books and Thoughts. Fantasy and Theory. People and Birds. Watching and Waiting. I don't know what I'm saying. Don't know what I'm thinking. I wish things could be black and white. I wish everything wasn't so complicated. I wish I could step out of my life of watching others. That's what I do. I sit, and drink my coffee, and watch them. I love watching people. I love seeing them do all the little things that make up life. How a young couple tries to always touch each other. How and old couple seems to move as one. No awkward fumblings. Perfect Harmony. As some people shy away from bright sunlight, and others seem to embrace it. How truly helpful people are. If someone drops a book, a pen, anything, there is always someone helping them to pick it up. I love to see how some people smile when they get eye contact with a stranger, and others look away in shame. What is shameful about having your eyes connect with another? I love watching someone reading, deep in though, it's as though you can see what they are thinking. Or rather, how they are thinking. I don't know. There is something special about people. Sometimes I wish I wasn't doing the watching though. Sometimes I wish I could get my act together and be the one doing the living, the one worth watching.
Until death, life is just a series of moments.
I was watching the birds today out on the field. God, it's beautiful and sad to watch their movements. It's amazing how they all instantly, and I mean instantly get up and move together, each moving the exact same distance as the one next to them, in the exact same direction. It's amazing how harmonious it all looks. And there is no leader saying "Go here, Go there, Stop, Start". It's all done as a collective. It's amazing the harmony simply birds can possess. Which just furthers my belief that there is something connecting them all. Connecting all of us actually. But I won't get into that right yet. Wouldn't it be wonderful though if we humans payed enough attention to each other, feeling each, that we could learn to move in such concord? Wouldn't that that be capital B Beauty? But the amazing thing with the birds is even though they all move together, there are still those one or two birds that go their own way, yet are still with the group. I saw one that flew into the trees while all the others stayed on the field. It separated itself. Went its own way. Found its own most comfortable perch. Yet it was still with the group. Still a part of the whole somehow. That would be true Beauty, if humans could do such a thing. Allow those who wish to go their own way, yet still have them as part of the whole. Just fucking beautiful.
Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.
Confucius
We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are all noble pursuits, and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.
Keating, Dead Poet's Society
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