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.

     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. “Hey, come over here. 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...amazing.” 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

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.

“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 

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.

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.

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

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

This empty hallway, echoes of your voice.

Shadowed with rust,

the whispering calm, crash of waves,

In the distance.

Remind me of my younger years,

Remind me of my strengths & fears.

Armed to face another day,

Bold, due to your memory.

These bright, open meadows remind me of you:

The calm, gentle wind blowing through.

Combing through grass, subtle wind,

Just as you ease my soul, from within.

The strength of the tide has pulled you in,

But none of us Is free from sin.

And, this, we know was not just you,

A powerful force overcame, overthrew.

Fierce as we may feel to justify that day,

May we all see the horizon-

As although the sun sets, our eyes on,

no one can deny it's magnificence.

The essence of your shadow is the moon,

Illuminating us in darkness.

Even in the blackest, most solitaire night,

In your harmonies, we find solace-

In your remnants.

I find comfort from within, knowing

You will sing to us again-

Howling at the gates

Of sweet heaven

#chriscornell #poetry #art #originalart #soundgarden #audioslave #templeofthedog 

*Please click image to see a more broad view of the original artwory k I did, as well <3