I’m speaking to a crowd of no people

I’m speaking to a crowd of no people,
I’m singing out my wordless tune,
My songs flow out through my hand to my keys,
Because there they can take all the time that they please,

But this era of typing aphasia,
That plagues my every idea,
Of misspelling my thoughts through the lens of my brain,
Where connections are needed for friendship to gain,
This world of unknown connections,
To people who seem to care,
Looks like a trap to a false sense of closeness,
When really they hide, an internal grossness,

But, I’m speaking to a crowd of no people,
I’m singing out my wordless tune,
My songs flow out through my hand to my keys,
Because there they can take all the time that they please,

Like p, np, and politics,
The two sides of my brain can’t liaise,
And the umpteenth word not remembered or stuttered,
Results in great plans I have that get shuttered,
But at every turn, every small line of progress,
Entropy sweeps me away,
When all I need to succeed is one big success,
One thing to go right, without all the stress,
That happens when being all cooped up in your thoughts,
Unable to form into words,
When the only solace I can find,
Are my laptop and my mind,

Because I’m speaking to a crowd of no people,
I’m singing out my wordless tune,
My songs flow out through my hand to my keys,
Because there they can take all the time that they please,

I need to reach out to find someone,
Someone who has setbacks, like me,
Who can talk through their mouth but prefers to sing,
And has countless ideas, to which they cling,
Hoping and trying but never achieving,
Because they are a lot like me,
So I’m speaking to a crowd, to find people,
People with unique ideas,
Who’ve faced up to the challenge, all on their own,
Who’ve done many things, but their wish stays unknown,
And the implications of this pent up passion,
Unplacated because we’re paying to be poor,
But praying to be more,
So I’m singing out my wordless tune,
And I hope you hear my song.
-Aaron E-J

The genuflection of regeneration without regard to the lives we want to lead

You think you know all men?
You think all men are selfish bastards, who pick up women like the husks of empty passion,
And discard them the moment they are full of the shallow culture “all men” flaunt.
I’ll tell you the truth,
The truth is, you categorize to simplify,
Men are people first; we wade in shallow feelings when they reflect the reaction to your eyes,
If the man you seek discards you, maybe you should reflect upon them too.
Yes, we come from an unscrupulous past, Machiavellian was right,
But this does not mean he is right, or that our change will lead to a dishonest future.
Honest.
But who am I to judge the feelings of the complexity of love,
What bases of experience can you say I have to preach upon a choir when I am agnostic to the pander that you play,
The genuflection of regeneration without regard to the lives we want to lead,
The higher power I seek is not simply the multiplication of like terms,
It is for the sum to be greater than the collective additions of that which came before,
For our combined abilities to complement, not contradict,

I’m not gay,
I’m not straight,
I’m not bi,
The only line I see is the one looking at you,
I love people, not women, not men,
And my hormones, my genes, my race, my body, my sex do not make me, me,
I make me, me,
So let’s cut this crap about gender,
About fitting people in,
About leaving people out,
There is an inherent uncertainty that exists between us all,
The need to stare, third eye to third eye, instead of looking the other way,
Gleam meaning beyond the face you’ve seen before,
It’s hard, I know from experience,
Just as hard as it is for one to see themselves as what they are to others,
And the fear that they are nothing to someone else,
Eats at you until the insincerity is too much,
And you give in to the shallow feeling because the eyes can be deceiving,
And the truth is never cut and dry.
The truth, honestly, is just another simplification.
-Aaron E-J