What Makes An Ode
Words, words, on the tip of your tongue/
where you have ended and where I've begun/
Endlessly in need to be heard, to be rung/
To be gobbled up and worshiped, seized or be sung/
Make you believe in the unbelievable/
Make you conceive the pure inconceivable/
Please let me taunt you, to look past your fire/
Let me embrace you when things do look dire/
But physicality is unbecoming/
So look beyond my body, my heart that is strumming/
Peer down my larynx and see my cogs turning/
Cut open my ears to see your lips burning/
Underneath my sounds, you'll hear my true error/
The lapping of love, anxiety, terror/
Out skips the trembles of what I am meaning/
I search in your eyes for the light you are gleaning/
The mellifluous nonsense that seems to be teeming/
Of you and your words of which I am dreaming/
Microphone
They speak
they chant
they tell us of things
we are meant to see.
They sing
they warble
they let us see things
that we only just heard.
They announce
they commentate
they let us hear things
we never thought we would need.
They game
they role play
they give us what we need
that bit of joy everyday.
They act
they choreograph
they show us joy
that turns into tears.
And what
what do they all share
just a simple little instrument
they use on occasion
to speak
to sing
to announce
to game
to act
they all speak into the microphone
why don't you give it a try.
Wanting
I want be loved... don't we all? But I want a special type of love. Not from a lover though. I just want to talk to someone, and not feel uncomfortable, I want to hang out with someone and not feel pressured. And most of all I want to feel like people want me around. Because what's the point of having friends of lovers when they don't care whether you're there or not? I want that love that will make a smile linger for the rest of the day.