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Do you hear the storm coming? feel the thunder shaking the ground? can you see the lightning in the distance? feel the wind weaving through your clothes? can you hear the rain getting closer and louder and heavier?
Happy changes for ours to foray, that theirs were oceanand of black God, so could you know Ocean god was thisogod, or primal bei is hei. Thes lors, ast ou, ocean wasblack and fear, could know you in? No. But this deep could
Silence. Pure and refined silence. I struggle to find meaning in the sounds. To make music is to paint a picture with no canvas. A lone hand embraces my soul; Gripping me, carrying me, holding me.
The room is silent, but for the endless scratch, Of pens and pencils on paper, Words flowing from minds, Through the hands, Out the pen, Traces of ink in gleaming rivers, The endless scratching,
I. Lines that break on the epitome of sound ring forth like the swells ~~~~ of a whale dipping into the sea ~~~~~~~~~
Another day passes by like the tickety tock of the clock Noticed, but ignored Forgotten as one indevidual tick, Remembered as a whole Tick, tock, tickety tock.
Whispered thoughts echo echo Throughout the warm and crowded room. The thoughts mingling amongst one another
Smaller and smaller they became The words on the pages lost to an abyss Each day weaker and weaker And the words vanish But the colors stay The colors and the sound The sound and the colors
The guitarist wrinkles his face as he concentrates with dignity. He flips the page on the stand, and adjusts his fingers accordingly. The acoustic guitar resonates
Tonight the dogs fought, Sounding all at once Like a thousand people screaming And a flight of hundreds of crows taking off, Their wings smacking the air All at once in a horrendous cacophony of noise:
I sucked it in through my breath and it sunk through my skin It expanded through my lungs and seeped into my blood stream
What makes me feel good is singing It gives me a kind of feeling I can't explain the way it makes me feel The feeling is just unreal My melody makes me shine My voice is hard to deny
Whispers come in the breeze, Whether by sea or Through the leaves They always know just What your mind Is trying to hide And they laugh at Your ineptitude With a harsh,
Silence We live in a world of noise never silent. Even when you want it the most, it is never there. We could be deaf, but we can always hear ouselves. Without noise
I drift through an endless space, reacquainting myself again With the parallel black lines Stacked on top of each other with infallible precision In a backdrop of a cream filling, rich as buttercream topping on a cake
We don’t talk a lot about ears, do we? They’re seen as simply the masses of flesh attached to the sides of newly Formed heads at birth Not seen in most respects as something of worth and yet
The boundless days The sun beats down The silky waves Is the sweetest sound The creeping wind The green palm fronds The effortless sway Is the sweetest sound
I can't live without MUSIC, Because its everywhere, On almost everything, I mean where would we be without, The wonderful variety of sound, The joy of enjoying a genre, That evolved from its own history,
Years has is it become Seeing eye to eye But very words Gave thrills and shrills To both, separated By approx. of 618.6 km And taking a 8 hour long travel Reaching by 7 in the morn
No matter what we do,Sound is made.No matter what century we're in,
The marching band marches,The orchestra bows,The jazz band swings,
soft notes of soulful awakening float through the apartment, slow steady, to accompany the morning brew major, augmented, into a crescendo in a london flat a steady beat thrum rhytmatically
Sometimes I wonder If madness sounds like civilization Noisy music Incessant hubbub and babble The scrape of sandals on concrete Breaths
Flawless Music I retain all these faults that could make me flawless, I can write rhymes, tell the time, though I really shouldn’t floss less.
The thoughtless plucking of cords. Air resonating through the pathways of muscle To make sound. Guttural, lyrical, nonsensical Sound refined by teeth and tongue, By the careful pursing and pulling of lips.
you are by Damon Dixon you are powerful beyond belief
For whome, This may
I'm that weird girl that sits in the back The quieter you are the less attention you attract Though I'm not the only one who would rather it dark At times I find those with that same unique heart
Hey, What is that sound, that seems so old, but yet still new? A musical note from a different hue. A tone that sharply cuts through, the blues inside your heart.
Shhhhhh. Can you listen? I ask for a silence and still, in the empty quiet of this room, I hear it.
To kiss you is to hear trumpets sound and feel the reverberation propel throuhg my skin as my soul rejoices in meeting its other half
What is the sound your heart is making?
With Aspergers, it's a bit tough. There's problems that make you think you've had enough. From the loud noise to lighting so bright, When you can't handle it all, you are forced to fight.
So I walk aimlesslyWithout aim Where did I come from?Well, that’s a trivial matter
one day I was walking somewhere new singing an unfamiliar tune in a voice that was not my own. the sand uncomfortable in my shoes and the wind skipping across my skin chilling me through
My teacher once told me The snow absorbs sound And that is why in winter When the air is cold And comes out in puffs The world is silent And any sound is muffled By a heavy crystal blanket
That melody, that melody, that haunts my wretched brain,It fills my dreams by night it, it follows thought by day.That melody, that melody, its source I think of in vainIt is ever with me, whether I sit or stand or lay.
Wait Blue Beloved, I want to tell you, let’s snuggle forever, and stay with me in bed sweetheartTimes will seem too hard to bear and I will feel like life is giving up on me
It seems ridiculous to me Spectacularly arranged Uniquely designed Strings of that which is hear laced together in particular patterns, so necessary A carnal infusion