Music is like listening to the wind roar.
It is the passion of the rhythmic pound of a heart,
The burst of colours after an explosion across the sky,
The twist and turn of wild hair,
And a terrible laugh.
When the needle lifts,
Glittering,
Dark vinyl spinning,
Spinning,
The quiet rush of static––
Like the anxious, electrified air before a thunderstorm––
And there:
Music blasts,
BLASTS
Through and fills the room with honey
And shrieking, rainbow glass.
An energy so high and sweet,
Makes you feel like you can crush worlds
With your boot,
And kick through dimensions.
The type of love for an existence
You know nothing about,
A child-like wonder so that every time,
Nothing is the same.
And you wonder
How something as simple as
Music...
Can make everything seem
A little brighter,
A little more wicked,
A little bit fun.
YOU ARE READING
The Ghost of an Echo: A Mad Collection of Mad Poet Poetry
PoetryAn absolutely MAD Collection of Poetry by yours truly. Spiral into outer space and ride rollercoasters of mayhem and wonder. Anxiety is real. It's time we talk about it. New poems every week! #1 in whimsy #4 in fantastical
