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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by JamesMByers in portal Seattle Refined

Black Sun, Black Days

Born of grunge and metal's mirth

Beneath the pouring rain,

Swarmed Seattle; legend's birth

Incorporating pain.

Troubled childhood, feeling down

Within depression's clutch,

Chris Cornell, against a frown,

Ensnared a hopeful touch.

Sparking much debate in school,

Religion took a fall,

Hence removed from off the spool

As Chris had questioned all.

Drugs escaped into his mind

And solo seemed the path

He would walk as albeit blind,

Until musician's math

Forged a bond as guitars strummed

And drums in pounding beat

Measured in the way he hummed-

A symphony complete.

Gardens made of sound arrived;

The friendship formed a band.

Intercession, songs survived

And guided Chris's hand.

Rusty cages seemed outshined

And more so, I suppose.

Moving melodies defined

A Jesus Christ like pose.

Spoonman sung in deepest rays-

A black hole sun's delight.

Fell on darkened, blackest days

The way he lived in night.

Pretty noose foreshadowed doom;

A burden in the palm.

Blowing up the outside gloom,

The rhinosaur brought balm.

Black rain fell in drops of thought

As phantoms telephoned.

Been away too long and bought

The crooked steps he zoned.

Slave to audio conformed

As in between the the time

Garden of the sound reformed

To sink in the sublime,

Chris Cornell enjoyed a stay

As new friends jammed in tune.

Like a stone, they learned to play

The highway and the rune.

Be yourself- a mantra's gift

And time had come to pass.

Doesn't call reminder's lift

As out of exile's class

Fire, original in flame,

In revelation's scheme

Burned the solo album's game

As if some sort of dream.

No such thing, a scream long gone,

And many singles sung-

Finally the heart of stone

Forgotten settled, hung.

Temple of the dog avowed

Unsettled pasts revived.

Chris did all he was allowed

And for a while he thrived.

Never known, the reason why

Detroit became the place

Seeds were sewn as his reply;

A sadness filled his face.

Songs performed were not the same,

Conditioned on the ride.

Chris Cornell, a hallowed name,

Committed suicide.

This is for his wife and kids;

The Fans he left behind.

Sadness beckons as it skids

Across the bump and grind-

Friends will not forget the man

Enlisting lyrics writ.

Concerts from the deepest span

Ensure he will not quit.

Lost forever to the earth,

Inside us Chris will give.

Born of grunge and metal's mirth,

His death calls us to live.

64
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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by JamesMByers in portal Seattle Refined
Black Sun, Black Days
Born of grunge and metal's mirth
Beneath the pouring rain,
Swarmed Seattle; legend's birth
Incorporating pain.
Troubled childhood, feeling down
Within depression's clutch,
Chris Cornell, against a frown,
Ensnared a hopeful touch.
Sparking much debate in school,
Religion took a fall,
Hence removed from off the spool
As Chris had questioned all.
Drugs escaped into his mind
And solo seemed the path
He would walk as albeit blind,
Until musician's math
Forged a bond as guitars strummed
And drums in pounding beat
Measured in the way he hummed-
A symphony complete.
Gardens made of sound arrived;
The friendship formed a band.
Intercession, songs survived
And guided Chris's hand.
Rusty cages seemed outshined
And more so, I suppose.
Moving melodies defined
A Jesus Christ like pose.
Spoonman sung in deepest rays-
A black hole sun's delight.
Fell on darkened, blackest days
The way he lived in night.
Pretty noose foreshadowed doom;
A burden in the palm.
Blowing up the outside gloom,
The rhinosaur brought balm.
Black rain fell in drops of thought
As phantoms telephoned.
Been away too long and bought
The crooked steps he zoned.
Slave to audio conformed
As in between the the time
Garden of the sound reformed
To sink in the sublime,
Chris Cornell enjoyed a stay
As new friends jammed in tune.
Like a stone, they learned to play
The highway and the rune.
Be yourself- a mantra's gift
And time had come to pass.
Doesn't call reminder's lift
As out of exile's class
Fire, original in flame,
In revelation's scheme
Burned the solo album's game
As if some sort of dream.
No such thing, a scream long gone,
And many singles sung-
Finally the heart of stone
Forgotten settled, hung.
Temple of the dog avowed
Unsettled pasts revived.
Chris did all he was allowed
And for a while he thrived.
Never known, the reason why
Detroit became the place
Seeds were sewn as his reply;
A sadness filled his face.
Songs performed were not the same,
Conditioned on the ride.
Chris Cornell, a hallowed name,
Committed suicide.
This is for his wife and kids;
The Fans he left behind.
Sadness beckons as it skids
Across the bump and grind-
Friends will not forget the man
Enlisting lyrics writ.
Concerts from the deepest span
Ensure he will not quit.
Lost forever to the earth,
Inside us Chris will give.
Born of grunge and metal's mirth,
His death calls us to live.
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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by Thirstypen in portal Seattle Refined

Blood Brothers

     As a boy, my big brother and I seldom found ourselves on the same side of anything really. We fought over video games, the front seat, and who sat where at dinner. He tortured me for having a night light and sucking my thumb. I told on him for just about everything in return. 

     Back and forth we fought, as brothers do, until one fateful day I heard a subtle, wasteland-heart, crooning notes over a rock guitar. The voice sounded both lost and fearsome at the same time, and the melody droned on, melancholic and penetrating. I crept down the hall to hear more and found myself in my brother’s room while my big brother V and his best friend Mike nodded in unison to Sound Garden’s “The Day I Tried to Live.”

     I knew I’d catch a beating for even thinking about being in V’s room without a good reason, but the voice called me from the hallway and pulled me in. I was powerless. The voice soared over the dissonant guitar riffs, wrenching away from the melody with crystal clear rebellion. I was changed. I closed my eyes and imagined what the singer looked like. He must be tall. Defiant. A hero, fighting against something bigger than himself, but fighting bravely anyway. Saturday cartoons had taken hold and I was very into super heroes back then and imagined him like that. “V, what the hell?” I opened my eyes to see my brother and his six-foot behemoth friend gawking at my bravado.

     V sat up and stood but instead of throwing me out, he said one of the first non- threatening things to me in our short history at the time. “Come here Hanif. What do you think of this, huh? You don’t like it do you?” Mike laughed his dopey laugh and shook his head.

     I piped up, “It’s awesome! I love it!” I’ll never forget how my brother grinned. Like I’d passed some test. Mike laughed and said, “Start it over bro! See what his favorite is!” We spent the next hour listening to Superunkown, ironically enough, it's how my brother and I got to know each other.

     To this day the album takes me back to a place of discovery and understanding like nothing else, and though I’ve grown up some, now I don't think, but know, the singer who cranked out those noble notes was a hero. He was fighting against something larger than himself, and he held fast decades passed when a kid heard those cries in the hall and heard sounds of a battle. 

     Not all wars can be won and, "The lives we make never seem to ever get us anywhere but dead," but Chris gave us the soundtrack to the fight and showed us the meaning of perseverance. For that and so much more, we will miss you Mr. Cornell. Your voice will never die.

Rest in Power,

Hanif

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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by Thirstypen in portal Seattle Refined
Blood Brothers
     As a boy, my big brother and I seldom found ourselves on the same side of anything really. We fought over video games, the front seat, and who sat where at dinner. He tortured me for having a night light and sucking my thumb. I told on him for just about everything in return. 
     Back and forth we fought, as brothers do, until one fateful day I heard a subtle, wasteland-heart, crooning notes over a rock guitar. The voice sounded both lost and fearsome at the same time, and the melody droned on, melancholic and penetrating. I crept down the hall to hear more and found myself in my brother’s room while my big brother V and his best friend Mike nodded in unison to Sound Garden’s “The Day I Tried to Live.”
     I knew I’d catch a beating for even thinking about being in V’s room without a good reason, but the voice called me from the hallway and pulled me in. I was powerless. The voice soared over the dissonant guitar riffs, wrenching away from the melody with crystal clear rebellion. I was changed. I closed my eyes and imagined what the singer looked like. He must be tall. Defiant. A hero, fighting against something bigger than himself, but fighting bravely anyway. Saturday cartoons had taken hold and I was very into super heroes back then and imagined him like that. “V, what the hell?” I opened my eyes to see my brother and his six-foot behemoth friend gawking at my bravado.
     V sat up and stood but instead of throwing me out, he said one of the first non- threatening things to me in our short history at the time. “Come here Hanif. What do you think of this, huh? You don’t like it do you?” Mike laughed his dopey laugh and shook his head.
     I piped up, “It’s awesome! I love it!” I’ll never forget how my brother grinned. Like I’d passed some test. Mike laughed and said, “Start it over bro! See what his favorite is!” We spent the next hour listening to Superunkown, ironically enough, it's how my brother and I got to know each other.
     To this day the album takes me back to a place of discovery and understanding like nothing else, and though I’ve grown up some, now I don't think, but know, the singer who cranked out those noble notes was a hero. He was fighting against something larger than himself, and he held fast decades passed when a kid heard those cries in the hall and heard sounds of a battle. 
     Not all wars can be won and, "The lives we make never seem to ever get us anywhere but dead," but Chris gave us the soundtrack to the fight and showed us the meaning of perseverance. For that and so much more, we will miss you Mr. Cornell. Your voice will never die.

Rest in Power,
Hanif
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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by Batattoo in portal Seattle Refined

Silent Comfort

Black ink from my reservoir pen,

twists on an uncontrolled surface.

Like a contorted vane too tired to revolve,

I compose in my head my last contentions.

The last thing I wanted to do, was to hurt any of you.

For reasons you just can't see, the pressure was getting to me.

My demons were not effortless,

a dark coil inside of me needed to be released.

It was like lacerating a butterflies wings.

I hunger for you to know I never meant to cease.

The last thing I wanted to do, was to hurt any of you.

For reasons you just can't see, the pressure was getting to me.

I recognize I don't need your absolution, and you don't need mine.

Take every segment of me including my love, compassion and voice

and transmit it to the masses. 

Find solace that I am now where I need to be.

The last thing I wanted to do, was to hurt any of you.

For reasons you just can't see, the pressure was getting to me.

18
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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by Batattoo in portal Seattle Refined
Silent Comfort
Black ink from my reservoir pen,
twists on an uncontrolled surface.
Like a contorted vane too tired to revolve,
I compose in my head my last contentions.

The last thing I wanted to do, was to hurt any of you.
For reasons you just can't see, the pressure was getting to me.

My demons were not effortless,
a dark coil inside of me needed to be released.
It was like lacerating a butterflies wings.
I hunger for you to know I never meant to cease.

The last thing I wanted to do, was to hurt any of you.
For reasons you just can't see, the pressure was getting to me.

I recognize I don't need your absolution, and you don't need mine.
Take every segment of me including my love, compassion and voice
and transmit it to the masses. 
Find solace that I am now where I need to be.

The last thing I wanted to do, was to hurt any of you.
For reasons you just can't see, the pressure was getting to me.
18
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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by Yppab-Demha in portal Seattle Refined

Higher Above Death

"I saw the heaven

when it makes

a gloomy sense in the blues sky

I felt the heaven

when I wander

silent in your sleep

Moon in the outside

reading your dream

And I'm searching

the piece of poetry

that supposed to be

the higher sense of the heaven

In my head,

I'm watching the clouds

rolling over in my sight

In my vein,

I'm pushing the torment

feeding the hungry blood

I can't be the spurious mind

I would be a ramble silence

Moon in the outside

Reading your dream

And I’m looking for free highway

that supposed to be

Freedom footing above the heaven"

Written on: 24 May 2017

Tribute to Chris Cornell 

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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by Yppab-Demha in portal Seattle Refined
Higher Above Death
"I saw the heaven
when it makes
a gloomy sense in the blues sky
I felt the heaven
when I wander
silent in your sleep

Moon in the outside
reading your dream
And I'm searching
the piece of poetry
that supposed to be
the higher sense of the heaven

In my head,
I'm watching the clouds
rolling over in my sight
In my vein,
I'm pushing the torment
feeding the hungry blood

I can't be the spurious mind
I would be a ramble silence
Moon in the outside
Reading your dream
And I’m looking for free highway
that supposed to be
Freedom footing above the heaven"

Written on: 24 May 2017
Tribute to Chris Cornell 
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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by SelfTitled in portal Seattle Refined

blue lips.

suicide is supposed to be a

("private") affair

but i cant help but think about

the lives that were lost

to internal pain

doesnt matter if you don't know the guy

i didn't and yet here i am

empathizing with that pain

because i was there once

in that same circumstance

juggling the ("dos") and ("donts")

(it hurts more than you think)

(the constant fear of betraying yourself)

all i can say really

try not to do things that you know will hurt later

think about the people in your corner

and if you dont have anyone

think about the people that could be

somehow

some way.

14
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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by SelfTitled in portal Seattle Refined
blue lips.
suicide is supposed to be a
("private") affair
but i cant help but think about
the lives that were lost
to internal pain
doesnt matter if you don't know the guy
i didn't and yet here i am
empathizing with that pain
because i was there once
in that same circumstance
juggling the ("dos") and ("donts")
(it hurts more than you think)
(the constant fear of betraying yourself)
all i can say really
try not to do things that you know will hurt later
think about the people in your corner
and if you dont have anyone
think about the people that could be
somehow
some way.
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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by natew101 in portal Seattle Refined

I Know Your Name

The sea under a moon

A haunting open night

The highway for my

Rolling wheels to ride

Your words resounding of

The sweetest euphoria

A voice so strong

Oh how I long

To hear you sing your song

The day I tried to live

Your tune upon my head

To drown the fear and ease

A troubled heart to rest

A soul of the loudest love

You outshine a thousand suns

A voice so strong

Oh how I long

To hear you sing your song

And here we fall

On the blackest yet of days

Your time has come

But we will always know your name

I know your name

As riot leaves the mind

A burdened hand lets go

May you rest in peace and find

A higher truth to hold

Though your candle has burned out

You say hello to heaven now

A voice so strong

Oh how I long

To hear you sing your song

As seasons roll away

And body turns to dust

The man of golden words

Forever sings in us

13
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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by natew101 in portal Seattle Refined
I Know Your Name
The sea under a moon
A haunting open night
The highway for my
Rolling wheels to ride

Your words resounding of
The sweetest euphoria
A voice so strong
Oh how I long
To hear you sing your song

The day I tried to live
Your tune upon my head
To drown the fear and ease
A troubled heart to rest

A soul of the loudest love
You outshine a thousand suns
A voice so strong
Oh how I long
To hear you sing your song

And here we fall
On the blackest yet of days
Your time has come
But we will always know your name
I know your name

As riot leaves the mind
A burdened hand lets go
May you rest in peace and find
A higher truth to hold

Though your candle has burned out
You say hello to heaven now
A voice so strong
Oh how I long
To hear you sing your song

As seasons roll away
And body turns to dust
The man of golden words
Forever sings in us


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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by Maria_Saavedra in portal Seattle Refined

Black Hole Me

There is an

empty space

within us

Untouched;

unexplored

A gut-wrenching

fear of falling

as we reach there:

'The Black Hole

of the mind'

Around its center:

memories in orbit

silently drawn

to the void

A seventh birthday;

a teenaged kiss;

blood-covered children

brought to our arms

All life lived:

Silently awaiting

its slaughter

12
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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by Maria_Saavedra in portal Seattle Refined
Black Hole Me
There is an
empty space
within us
Untouched;
unexplored

A gut-wrenching
fear of falling
as we reach there:

'The Black Hole
of the mind'

Around its center:
memories in orbit
silently drawn
to the void

A seventh birthday;
a teenaged kiss;
blood-covered children
brought to our arms

All life lived:
Silently awaiting
its slaughter
12
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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by Brandy in portal Seattle Refined

You don't know me

You don't know me, but I watched you grow.

You don't know me, but wherever you went I would go.

You don't know me, but I admire your work.

I admired your 'not a rockstar' mentality and appreciated you not being a jerk.

You don't know me, but I always wished you well.

Hoping your days would get better if Kurt Loder said it was hell.

You don't know me,but I cried when you did.

In your saddest lyrics I always hid.

You don't know me, but you said everything I would feel.

You described things I would imagine and made them seem real.

You don't know me, but I grew up with a strong Chicano background.

So I'd secretly sneek away to the Garden of Sound.

You don't know me,but I respected you as a whole.

Your thought provoking words helped me grow. 

You don't know me,but I believe in fate.

The hunger for more struck when I was eight.

You don't know me, but I also don't mind stealing bread.

It was lyrics like that,that kept my mind fed.

You don't know me but Superunknown sends me to a place of rest.

Let's get cheesy for a sec,seriously, your voice is the best!

You don't know me, and that's ok.

Angels go to Heaven so I'll see you someday.

I'll wait around,like a stone, but your music never dies.

And when I need inspiration I'll throw on my headphones and look to the skies.

You don't know me, but I grew up with your music and am no longer a kid.

You don't know me, but I just realized thru it all, you were the only one who really did.

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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by Brandy in portal Seattle Refined
You don't know me
You don't know me, but I watched you grow.
You don't know me, but wherever you went I would go.
You don't know me, but I admire your work.
I admired your 'not a rockstar' mentality and appreciated you not being a jerk.
You don't know me, but I always wished you well.
Hoping your days would get better if Kurt Loder said it was hell.
You don't know me,but I cried when you did.
In your saddest lyrics I always hid.
You don't know me, but you said everything I would feel.
You described things I would imagine and made them seem real.
You don't know me, but I grew up with a strong Chicano background.
So I'd secretly sneek away to the Garden of Sound.
You don't know me,but I respected you as a whole.
Your thought provoking words helped me grow. 
You don't know me,but I believe in fate.
The hunger for more struck when I was eight.
You don't know me, but I also don't mind stealing bread.
It was lyrics like that,that kept my mind fed.
You don't know me but Superunknown sends me to a place of rest.
Let's get cheesy for a sec,seriously, your voice is the best!
You don't know me, and that's ok.
Angels go to Heaven so I'll see you someday.
I'll wait around,like a stone, but your music never dies.
And when I need inspiration I'll throw on my headphones and look to the skies.
You don't know me, but I grew up with your music and am no longer a kid.
You don't know me, but I just realized thru it all, you were the only one who really did.

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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by 17 in portal Seattle Refined

Angelic

When I worked in radio Chris Cornell was playing solo at a small venue. I was hanging posters in the lobby and snuck in to watch his sound check. He sang acapella for a while. It was me, him and the sound guy. I kept waiting for him to stop and ask who I was and why I was there but he was in a trance. Truly angelic and he brought tears to my eyes. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. His talent and children live on and his presence will always exist.

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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by 17 in portal Seattle Refined
Angelic
When I worked in radio Chris Cornell was playing solo at a small venue. I was hanging posters in the lobby and snuck in to watch his sound check. He sang acapella for a while. It was me, him and the sound guy. I kept waiting for him to stop and ask who I was and why I was there but he was in a trance. Truly angelic and he brought tears to my eyes. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. His talent and children live on and his presence will always exist.
12
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Juice
269 reads
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Donate coins to SeattleAngel.
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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by SeattleAngel in portal Seattle Refined

Say hello to heaven

It hurt when we lost Kurt and Layne. But losing you hurt even more.

Not only were you the voice of my generation, but at times you were my voice. You will forever be missed, and never forgotten. Thank you for all the music, and mostly thank you for being you. 

12
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Juice
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Juice
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We lost a lot with the passing of Chris Cornell. To many, he was a mentor, a brilliant writer; an inimitable voice. Until June 30th, this challenge is for the friends and fans to write their stories, poems, tributes: anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered, as well as making copies available for purchase, donating all proceeds to suicide prevention. In partnership with Seattle Refined, the most shared post will be read on air, and posted on seattlerefined.com.
Written by SeattleAngel in portal Seattle Refined
Say hello to heaven
It hurt when we lost Kurt and Layne. But losing you hurt even more.
Not only were you the voice of my generation, but at times you were my voice. You will forever be missed, and never forgotten. Thank you for all the music, and mostly thank you for being you. 

12
4
2
Juice
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