The Pleasure of Sound

Ne'er loose amusement for the diversity of music,

It is a message of autarky that delivers wildflowers

straight to the isolated guardhouse of the thoughts

where the imprisoned self stands, full of concerns.

No issues to look at today, I'd listen to some old songs,

forget human resemblances, I'll be desperately forsaken.

Personalities withhold inside of me playing hide and seek

they come like spring tides, stealing even my unsold dignity.

Friendless days in this barren shore made of castle sunsets.

This forced being explodes in an uncontrolled state of mind,

a momentary schizophrenia makes me write day and night.

There is a lapse of reason, so primp yourself, time to smile.

In the land of contemplation, sound is only beauty

with no aspect but shaping in mythological forces.

The idiosyncrasy appears in the broken, unforeseen air,

it is Einstein's strings vibration of dimensional space.

If you stop feeling the desire to listen to those notes

be careful, you may be dead or at least quite near to it.

The powerful abstract art resonates, making us alive

it can change your mood, and make you forget any place.

Witches sing and dance around a sacred fire of flames,

near them, an unloved blues man caresses strings, cries,

psychedelic sounds spread from the house of the woods

while an angry man yells to the tower ruled by the King.

The depth of the unknown is still to be explored, tomorrow

we'll walk hand in hand to discover it, or maybe not.

Humans are driven by the craving for meaningless truths,

don't be afraid to live or die, you have to do both anyway.

A creative person attempts to travel out of their body

to run away from the cynic sufferance that builds anxiety,

and so does the listener who commits completely to its expression.

Let's walk by the score, sling your hook, and keep your eyes closed.

26th of August 2017, Rome