Like a fine-tuned piano, that with which I speak
In melodic indifference sounds no alarm
Nor does it seek acceptance outside of free will.
Sometimes harsh in disharmony, it can be shrill.
Powerful are the words whose intent is to charm
And uplift phantom ones with aesthetic mystique.

The perceptions and feelings of folks about me
Are not really about me. When this is made clear,
Then I can keep on playing as ever before
With the freedom we each have to share evermore
With the colorful orchestra. Damned be my fear
Of insult and rejection! That’s how it must be.

If my point of attraction is set well below
What is needed so things that I do will succeed,
Then my focus on vibrating higher is prime
Otherwise all my words are a big waste of time.
Among fellow musicians I feel not the need
For engaging in discordant cheap audio.

Words of transforming power we each have to share.
That we all may be heard is a dream unfulfilled
As long as fear befuddles the will to forge on
‘Til the instrument’s life force is completely gone.
Opinions from the anus about how one’s skilled
Are not part of the language of people who care.