Music is more important to us than we will ever know. Treasure it.
But it's our first true language,
We define it as expression, soul-talkin', our essence,
You show it by humming, dancing, clapping and finally,
Singing, that savage beast soothing technique,
We start the day with the sun, the birds and even the sky,
Making sounds that trigger our emotional alarm,
And our soothing soul, from head to toe,
We jerk ourselves into overdrive with our coffee,
But we really move through our radio,
Like "Ants marching" from The Dave Matthews Band,
And "Higher ground" by Stevie Wonder or the Red Hot Chili Peppers,
It's more than creating a image or an attitude,
It's preparation for all the miles that you have to cover,
All through the day,
While "Shining Happy People" from R.E.M. plays in your head through lunch,
It's a stronger deterrent than aspirin, and it can be addictive as well as contagious,
And then with "Hold on, I'm coming" by Sam and Dave, you've walk right back into it,
Pushing through the determination of the day,
Striving to make it to the bell,
Why do you listen to people talk when you are stuck in traffic,
This is when you need soothing sounds the most,
If it isn't "Control" by Janet Jackson or "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley,
You gotta have something moving your mind besides staring through the windows or other stuck drivers,
You're home or with your friends,
You want jazz, but you found "I shot the sheriff" both Marley or Clapton versions,
As you watch the night fall on the now, well documented day,
When was the last time someone or something sang you to sleep,
It's somewhat childish, but sometimes,
The best remedies are the things that soothed you when you were a child,
Morning has broken, Sunrise, Sunrise, Ants marching, Do it to your Satisifed, Hungry like the wolf, Ain't no stopping us now, I shot the sheriff, And finally, your lullaby, "Goodnight, my sweet angel", by the Rembrandts,
Music, our true and first language,
Your soul loves it so much,
The dancer moves without a trace,
Poetry by Saga
Read 501 times
Written on 2006-08-18 at 13:36
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Sounds
It all began with a sound,But it's our first true language,
We define it as expression, soul-talkin', our essence,
You show it by humming, dancing, clapping and finally,
Singing, that savage beast soothing technique,
We start the day with the sun, the birds and even the sky,
Making sounds that trigger our emotional alarm,
And our soothing soul, from head to toe,
We jerk ourselves into overdrive with our coffee,
But we really move through our radio,
Like "Ants marching" from The Dave Matthews Band,
And "Higher ground" by Stevie Wonder or the Red Hot Chili Peppers,
It's more than creating a image or an attitude,
It's preparation for all the miles that you have to cover,
All through the day,
While "Shining Happy People" from R.E.M. plays in your head through lunch,
It's a stronger deterrent than aspirin, and it can be addictive as well as contagious,
And then with "Hold on, I'm coming" by Sam and Dave, you've walk right back into it,
Pushing through the determination of the day,
Striving to make it to the bell,
Why do you listen to people talk when you are stuck in traffic,
This is when you need soothing sounds the most,
If it isn't "Control" by Janet Jackson or "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley,
You gotta have something moving your mind besides staring through the windows or other stuck drivers,
You're home or with your friends,
You want jazz, but you found "I shot the sheriff" both Marley or Clapton versions,
As you watch the night fall on the now, well documented day,
When was the last time someone or something sang you to sleep,
It's somewhat childish, but sometimes,
The best remedies are the things that soothed you when you were a child,
Morning has broken, Sunrise, Sunrise, Ants marching, Do it to your Satisifed, Hungry like the wolf, Ain't no stopping us now, I shot the sheriff, And finally, your lullaby, "Goodnight, my sweet angel", by the Rembrandts,
Music, our true and first language,
Your soul loves it so much,
The dancer moves without a trace,
Poetry by Saga
Read 501 times
Written on 2006-08-18 at 13:36
Tags 3
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
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Kathy Lockhart |
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