Tag: music

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And the Beat Goes On

Sneakers and boots swarm the shoe rack by the front door.

The apartment is bustling, the air is rustling,

buzzing with the electric bliss of danceable beats,

beer cans clicking open – a romanceable heat fills the air.

I’m there, purple pants gliding by the guidance of my black socks beneath.

I didn’t know that this pretty girl I hadn’t met yet had her bold brown eyes hovering my way,

but I’m glad that when she saw me for the first time, I was at my happiest –

I was just vibing, speaking my soul’s most fluent language.

We broke the ice with our feet and the beat

as our words flowed flawlessly over the backdrop

of about twenty-something other twenty-somethings,

grooving along to the music that moved us.

I let her know that I liked her necklace, and when she said “Thank you!”

I was introduced to my favorite smile in the world.

Today we’re ten years beyond the night we had shared our first song.

Anniversaries and holidays now align

as we dine, travel, work, live, love, laugh, and still dance together.

From days to weeks, months, years, decades, and more

I always look forward to the next time we share a dance floor. – RSM ❤

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Wake up Exhausted by Tegan and Sara

I’ve held the strong belief that certain chords on guitar carry a feeling (like Cadd9), a vibrating set of strings spring our minds to pick up a particular vibe,

our emotions churned by the same chimes over and again, burned into our memories, for better, worse, or all of those places in between.

Songs are the superstructure of these tones, several notes forming harmonies, patterns creating melodies,

as the unique energy they give flows into our mind’s eye, tagging up the walls of our memories.

A certain feeling is cultivated, after ‘that song’ is heard after about a thousand times,

be it a sad, somber thang, a high energy rage ballad, or something very monotone (like ‘Sex & Candy’ by Marcy Playground),

a unique quality – warm, fuzzy, and unmistakeable – calls to our souls by way of our ear drums.

Some songs feel like home, no matter what they sound like, and on its 10th repeat or more, that’s really all that matters. – RSM

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Mind, Body, Soul, Music.

Moving to the music being pumped into my ears is a second nature; only breathing comes before it.

Sitting on a bus, going somewhere and a half, my foot moves around like it’s conducting an orchestra of what’s coming through my headphones.

My fingers tap the sides of my phone,
Head nodding subtly to the rhythm;

It’s only when I ask myself “What is there to write about?” that I realize that the music has already taken me –

Sending 4 over 4s through my veins, bass and treble through my capillaries,

nervous system fully synced with my current bop’s beats per minute, and I respond accordingly –

even while typing this, my subconscious is a subwoofer, the way I move to the music without thinking; my crown chakra tunes in to the tune’s vibrations.

I almost miss my stop, and I hurry out the backdoor, but from my seat to pounding pavement, I haven’t missed a beat. – RSM

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Tha Turntable Chakra

IMAGINE imagine IMAGINE imagine

music could be GENerated, music could be GENerated

just by your thoughts… you think something, and BAM – tones, tambourines, tom-toms and other auditory tools tell a story, put on a show – justlikethat.

What if it was so simple, a subconscious rhapsody – radiating, rambling, rumbling rhythmically, with every breath you take, every move you make;

– just a series of vibrations that emerge from your mind.

No other external instrument, no other pre-requisite – just a pure, beautiful sound, decorating time.

Like an aura, but audible, able to be heard by all within earshot.

What would yours sound like?

Not a very fair question, cuz honestly, wtf – I just thought of this, and you’re not prepared, how rude of me – I’ll go first:

the song that would play would vary from moment to moment, and would change with how my mood sways from day-to-day in a never-ending figure eight,

and would oft play something trippy, dance-able, funky.

Right now, first thing that came to mind was ‘Oh My God’ by A Tribe Called Quest, so I’ll just go with that.

When people say “that’s my jam!” or “issa vibe” in response to a song, think about it – it matches the tune in their mind’s eye.

Not a lot to imagine at this point, is there?

Your soul’s song is real. So turn it up – RSM

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Bossa Nova and Chill

(Inspired by The Night Has A Thousand Eyes by Paul Desmond)

– for the sophisticated couch potato in me.

A glass of Trader Joe’s finest bottle of Cabernet Savignon (and cheapest!)

along with a freshly mixed bag of my own trail mix,

a romantically frugal evening draws to a close.

 

Bossa Nova Radio serenades us,

as a soothing saxophone sends sensual sounds swimming along my spine,

showing my shoulder blades the same song.

It’s a toe tap from a couple of generations back – slow, but provocative;

a smooth, rhythmic invitation to relax with the classics,

to emit some elegance out of that nice sound system of yours.

A mellow contrast; a painting amidst photographs. – RSM

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Music is My Antidote

An infinite shame hath been cast on my imagination

 

and that is where it will stay.

 

Curiosity made the cat ask ‘What’s that’?

 

but as I now embark on a quest to

 

Take Back Sunday with fortified Sleep Armor

 

I find myself the Master of my Domain;

 

a musically learned Kobra with no need for

 

a crafty snake charmer.

I have the venom in my veins that could sting so hard

 

the moon and stars have to shield their word processors

 

for the intellect about this repaired little canoe is so TRUUU

 

you’ll wonder, if you’ve done me wrong why I’ve spared you.

A meditative Chinese Snake I am,

 

forming figure 8s as I shed my old skin,

 

all the while old memories of being the life of the party

 

makes my muscles clench like a high flying Hardy

 

boyyyy you have no idea where I’ve been, how many

 

blocks I’ve been around, how many towns across the

 

Atlantic I’ve unleashed my party animal for a swim,

 

I still didn’t drown.

How playfully ironic Life can be

 

when you can poke fun at you, yourself and me.

 

Admitting faults is the name of the game

 

when you’re rebuilding confidence and keeping yourself sane.

The End never comes until you’ve lost the will

 

so I’ll sit back, relax and chill

 

as these words escape my mind at my discretion,

 

regardless of their affiliation or impression

 

I forgive trespasses with the expectation of vice versa,

 

Typing these lightning bolts or writing in cursive,

 

hitting high notes and being subversive,

 

Tone is the difference between speaking to los Reyes

 

and letting the Devil come out, then you’re the ‘True Playa.’

Don’t play the game unless you’ll be a good sport

 

If you lose, don’t be a sore one at that.

 

Black, White, Pink, Purple, we’re all from the jungle


so be respectful to all the Cool Cats. – RSM

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