Satisfaction (not an assignment, just for fun)

I’m not really sure
How to start this one…
Because I just want to get
Straight
To the feeling
Rather than making some
Long
Meaningless
Introduction…
I want to talk about that feeling
The feeling that leaves me
Completely
SATSIFIED.
It’s hard to keep that feeling sometimes…
When
Everyone
Can make you frustrated
Well, some people at least…
They make me feel
Bottled up
Tight
In my chest
Head spinning
Can’t stop…
Can’t stop keeping it in
Can’t let it out.
Can’t.

I must be silent
In order to stay sane.
I must be elegant
Charming
Sweet
Unnoticeable
In order
To stay
Normal
In order to keep
From bursting
From going crazy and 
Freaking out at everyone…

Because that would be 
A little strange…

All I want
Is to feel
Free
And 
Satisfied
With myself.
And don’t get me wrong
I am satisfied
With the person I am
But
I’m a little uneasy
If I can’t feel
The satisfaction of happiness.
There are few things
That bring this feeling.
When I am able to
Talk easily
And 
Express myself
Without fear
Of judgment,
Ridicule,
Or hurt
When I am able to
Sing
My song
Of life
Both literally
And figuratively
To those
Who are willing
To listen.
Or even when I’m able
To cry
So hard
It hurts
Cry so hard
And deep
And gently.
When someone is there
Ready to get
A wet shoulder…
Because they are there…
They are there to comfort.

I want to keep this feeling…
And keep it there
And keep
It there
And keep
It
There.

This overwhelming feeling,
This and more,
Is what brings me
Total
S A T I S F A C T I O N.

"A Day In The Life Of Music" (not an assignment, just a post...)

Every morning I wake up to a different tune, dancing around my room, waiting for me to wake. I do not want to move, because if I do, it would disturb the movement of the music. Finally, I wake, and open my window, only to see something new outside every day. Everything I see out there is music. A glorious symphony of colors and shapes, all different and blowing in the wind. It feels good to me. As I ready myself, the music plays, setting the mood I will be in for the rest of the day… I drive to school, just like any other day, continuing the music I had to stop while getting ready… when I walk in the school, I see everyone’s different song. Everyone has a different tune they are walking to that day. It sets their mood, their expressions, their emotions. Before I see them, I see their song. My classroom is full of music, even though it is completely silent. Music on the floor, on shelves, plastered all over the piano… the piano… it has been through a countless number of songs and tunes and rhythms. By only looking can you see the music oozing from every part of it… waiting for more… while everyone arrives, they prepare to sing… for the most part… we all join together in song, and create something fairly beautiful… when everyone feels the music, has passion for the music and becomes the music, it becomes the best it can be. It finds a way into our hearts and into our souls… together we create something indescribable. Throughout the rest of the school day, I am humming the tunes, singing in the halls, creating an echo for everyone to hear. It is on my mind all day, and into the night… when I find solitude in my room, blasting so loud I can barely hear my own thoughts. It plays so loud that my body fills to the top with something I cannot describe. I feel full, I feel complete, I close my eyes and feel the chills running through me. The rhythm will find a way into my heart, twisting and turning and weaving through every part of me, until the rhythm of the music and the beat of my heart intertwine. I cannot fully describe this feeling, for it was never meant to be spoken, only felt. When I lay my head down again that night, the music is playing in my head… it is completely silent all around me. My ears are ringing… yet the music plays on, tune by tune, beat by beat, rhythm by beautiful rhythm… it never ends… it helps me to sleep, when I dream of it all through the night, and into the morning, when it satisfyingly starts all over again…

Boulevard of Broken Dreams

I walk alone
I walk alone.
Have I chosen to do so
willingly?
Have I created my own destiny?
Have I led myself into this..?

My boulevard
looks like high-school.
The streets are endless
and crowded
with people who don't care
if they shove you into a locker
as they walk by in a hurry.
I walk alone,
I walk alone.
The lights are slightly dim
Most of the walls are painted green.
I hate green.
The language on my boulevard
consists of three types:
Gossip
Bad jokes
And swearing
or even
a combination of the three.
My boulevard of Broken Dreams
is somewhere
where I do not fit.
It's somewhere
where I do not feel
comfortable
unless I find a room
with a teacher
who cares
about
me.
It's funny
that I call it
MY boulevard.
Because I think
if it were mine,
i'd be able to change it.
I'd be able to mold it
into something beautiful.
But, high-school is high-school.
I cannot make it better.
No one can, really.
My boulevard seems endless.
My boulevard is a place that
I
cannot
change.
And the worse part is,
I can't change the fact
that I walk alone,
I walk alone.

I'm Thinking About You.......

I'm thinking about you like sand thinks about the beach. Like Rome thinks about art. Like writing thinks about Paris. I'm thinking about you like a toothbrush thinks about toothpaste. Like a brush thinks about his comb. Like gloves think about hands. I'm thinking about you like Elvis thinks about shakin' his hips. Like a pick thinks about it's guitar. Like a piano thinks about fingers. I"m thinking about you like a song thinks about lyrics. Like trumpets think about saliva. Like monsters think about closets. I'm thinking about you like sprinklers think about grass. Like clouds think about the sky. Like clouds think about rain. I'm thinking about you like thunder thinks about lightning. Like the sunset thinks about the horizon. Like the moon thinks about the stars. I'm thinking about you like the sun thinks about fire. Like flames think about burning... I'm thinking about you like I think about how I wish this post was better, but i'm having writer's block... I can't think of a creative way to write it all out, but i'm trying... I'm trying to write better but I just can't stop thinking about you instead, because when I think about you my mind is consumed with the thought of you, so, how can I think about writing well, when i'm thinking about you?

Direct Orders

We are under the direct order to Rock Out.

Rock out like that piece of chocolate DIDN'T make me sick to my stomach. Rock out like it's 2:14 on Friday. Rock out like I finally hit that note LOUD and STRONG. Rock out like I finally did that spin on my horse perfectly. Rock out like it's your first kiss with that PERFECT guy. Rock out like HE was the one who wanted to kiss YOU. Rock out like I have no cavities at my dentist check-up. Rock out like you just got accepted to your dream college. Rock out like it's the last 80's dance ever. Rock out like Elvis is in your basement and dad's bangin on the drums like a pro. Rock out like you FINALLY got your own room after 8 freaking years with your sister! Rock out like she's finally asleep so you can steal the T.V. remote. Rock out like you finally beat that addiction. Rock out like your parents decided not to divorce. Rock out like WW2 is over. Rock out like the doctor said he actually couldn't find any cancer in your body, and that he had made a mistake in the first test. Rock out like you've got a day left to live, and you've done all you wanted to do. Rock out like this is the last time you'll ever have to go on an awkward date. Rock out like the power's out. Rock out like it's back on again. Rock out like you made the winning goal at your final game. Rock out like all there is, is you, your iPod, and your rainy driveway. Rock out like your 2 favorite T.V. characters finally admitted they love each other after 2 years. Rock out like you're Elton John. Like you're Elvis. Like you're the Beach Boys. Like you're 30 Seconds to Mars. Like you're Queen. Rock out like this is the last math test you will ever have to take. Rock out like there's only 10 minutes of rain left to fall. Rock out like you get to sing in front of a million people tonight. Rock out like your life depended on it, because it does! Rock out like this is the last weekend, like these are the last words.