creative writing, entertainment, Music, poetry

I’m Afraid of Music

I’m afraid of music, or what hellish parody it’s become,

The image of stars has darkened, darken one’s imaginings of fun.

Musicians have become scandalized, from abuse, violence, and disgrace,

Money and power takes presents, of those once Platonic days.

The string guitar is a noose, the drum and base are non-medicated drugs,

Voices are hyperventilation, I’m being raped by the thought of what was.

Demonic life illustrations, over obnoxious acoustic and electronic trilogies,

Take the place of Thought provoking lyricism, above expressive hypnotic melodies.

I once found security as a child, in their words and their seductive songs,

Musical illustrations helped me battle, through cancer and sickness, when the nights were long.

Is it wrong to choose disease, over these once spell bounded tympani’s?

Or wait for a day of relief, where the love will come back to me?

Intoxicated hallucinations, bring and hold a semblance of harmony,

Then I tolerate those once peaceful enjoyments that are now violating non-realities.

Whether if it is Molly or Drake, or if it is Blink or Green,

Alliteration’s of M.J., now scare me with the dearest limericks of Kelly.

Can true wisdom tell the difference, over a painful foolish resemblance?

Is my pretentious phobia curable, if I embrace this toxic ignorance?

While they recite phenomena, out of their satirical lyric tunes,

Acidic verbal nonsense, gets heard from our rational views.

I’m afraid of music, or what concepts it’s inspired,

Thoughts of giving up my talent, light my ambitions on fire.

Call me a coward, say I’m terrified of nothing,

Yet has times ever become dark, and music made that depression cutting?

Am I alone in belief that the world’s music, had better for us and our loved ones?

Than hearing drummer boys rock from their flocks on the streets of their trap funds.

They Talk gun clapping over auto tune beats, but real culture takes it and puts it in to reality,

The first reason I’m afraid of music, what it is doing to the community.

They preach inspiration from intoxication, melodious narcotic creativity,

The second reason I’m afraid of music, endorsing tranquillized abnormalities.

I wish this phobia was void, and there was not any reason to fret,

The third reason I’m afraid of music, I can do nothing to change it.

addiction, creative writing, Life skills, poetry, psychology, recovery, sociology

Murderous Trinities

It is the murderous trinities of sex, drugs, and Hennessy, that in born enemy turning friends to frenemies

Yet we still have the tendency to live with the penalty, life torn calamity in pleasurable insanity.

Yet it’s the toxic necessity taking longevity, the fantasy calling you away from humanity,

The purest of souls can fall in to insanity, forsaking all ties for this new found family.

They run the streets insane for a flask in the brain, or a shot to the arm for a smile forlorn,

Or for One bottle of pain to dry the mind in rain, or in the needle in their arms to patch a heart just torn.

Seeking that solace in a self-guarded palace, with the poison in your chalice to hide from malice,

Yet found departed unaware in a household stair, dabbing away tears of a future unclear.

It’s Corruption that turns the malevolent soul, when our faith and hopes are ice cold,

Heart now gone black mold, these poetic lyrics will become illustrations of that searing soul.

Speak truth from these pens in hopes pain does end, for the trinity that lends aid in these last moments.

We can Just Hope our words lead them from the dark, when they hear those immoral horn men.

Because they hear their footsteps crepitating, weak spirits start anticipating,

That this action may free them far from that pain that lies in them ventilating.

The compulsion playing with durability, that fantasy calling one away from the family,

An innate calamity deep in medicated insanity, hung on elements against humanity.

Christian appendix added to a faithful witness, savior’s voices could become lost after a jail sentence,

Can repentance be found in faithful defense, when religious factions have no moral sense?

They are all in slaved, and shall always be slaved,

When narcotics breathe madness in to souls of self-doubt.

These streets bleed attics and decrepit beings, animal and human alike,

Pharmaceutical scandals scar your beautiful child, hooking lustful emissions from their life.

The innocent victims of life battle a sky felt, but not seen or heard through demented trinities,

The purest joys of drugs, alcohol, and finance, dance with songs of lust, pain, and anxiety.

Division is supremacy if one severs and devours, serrate the mind to segregate the power,

Keep them hoping and rebelling for a star that they see, but will always be grounded by gravity.

It is an ugly truth, that people wish to turn blind to not see,

That those pleasures found in fun, can also be murderous trinities.