Freedom of Laughter by Melissa Flores

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There’s something about laughter–

beautiful, spontaneous, wild, and free.

Golden, springy curls of childhood untucked.

Stack of papers turned loose by the wind,

each sheet traveling independently.

Balloon, filled with air–pop!–

an unexpected explosion–

the air filled with colorful gasses.

Shotgun rhythm–each hand

slapping the sturdy oak of the dinner table–

a jolt through the musician’s body.

What was bound is now unbound,

            woven-unwoven,

wrapped-unwrapped,

                        contained-now set free. 

 

This is a poem by written by a personal friend of mine that I just love! So I posted it for your enjoyment as well!

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The hands fly across the keyboard.

Or at least in his mind they fly,

In reality they stumble and lurch across

Like drunken bees trying to tap dance

As he tries to conjure something beautiful

As the beauty of art drums in his ears

In the form of a small device producing

The lives and struggles of others into his ears.

The beauty escapes him but he struggles on

His head rocking in tune to the beyond

That can not be captured in words

Alone in a room full of people as the smells

And sights meld into one harmonious whole

That echoes in the eerie silence of the music

As it engulfs his senses and he just wants

To ride it like a wave but the rocks of social

Protocol, the foundations of society are there

To prevent him from cutting loose and just moving

To the talent that whispers in his ear

And the seductive thrum of instruments as they

Match with the wavelength of his thoughts and

The music continues to play and the words fade

But the music remains and now he is being

Swept away and his fingers speed up

And the words escape from his silent mouth

That doesn’t move but transfers the information

To his fingers which start to do their elegant

Dance on the dance floor of the keyboard

The drunken bees now trained ballerinas

As they leap and flourish and the psyche transcending

Beauty that pours from the expression of

Self and others and all that is wrapped up

In the aloneness and the rapture of the

Heady orgasmic quality of the trance that

Is similar to the high achieved by drugs but simple

And clean and hard to put to words though a

Thousand and a thousand more monkey beat

On the typewriter of life and produce works

That  echo, surpass and elevate that of Shakespeare

But still that drumbeat of life that is captured by

The music that we play and listen

Runs and thrums in our bones and calms our souls

But can not be captured by our mind.

He returns and the trance ends and his fingers

Slow and his words start to trickle to a stop

And his moment ends and returns to life

Homage

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Can you feel it?

Tha Thud Tha Thud Tha Thud

That is the sound of your soul smiling 

Hhhummmmmmm hhummmmmmmmm

Look at the colors bursting from our mouths

Glistening strands of beautiful music

Each strand pure and alone 

but as the conductors hands sweep the air

a tapestry of love, hope and oneness is woven

Can you see it?

The sounds of life and struggle as they pour

from our mouths and are transformed

into masterpieces

Can you taste our groove

the electric of the vibe and the bubbles

of joy popping into flashes of white teeth

We rise and fall like oceans 

fearless and relentless we attack!

Many as one

Our waves battering the walls 

of ignorance and prejudice

We are unique and we glow shine

like stars in the firmament

But we are one galaxy, a bright lit way 

to peace 

We sing, we celebrate, we mourn, we worship

we lift our voices to the heavens and challenge 

the angels to awaken

and they descend and listen

struck stone silent by the beauty 

and fragility of our humanity 

and for a breath all is silent

but even as the last note fades and the tapestry

is quiet, the colors silent and muted

and we turn to leave and fade back to a world of gray

The colors of our music and the sounds of our hearts

and the humm thud of our collective soul

now gossamer strong strings of love connecting us. 

And so we walk our walks, 

carving tattoos of ourselves on the face of the world

our steps marking the the map that is the

entirety of human potential

We are one.

Our hearts bound by love, joy and a hope for a better tommorow

We are one.

We have one voice.

We are the Choir.