How Music and Poetry Sustain My Well-Being

What would your life be like without music?

A mistake. Now, that is not to say that my life is a hit (with music).

Of course, you are completely entitled to dislike music—although I have yet to meet someone who actively does.

As you read my poems here, you might not realize just how deeply passionate I am about music—more than poetry, even. I’m drawn to many other forms of art, of course. As I often say, “art still thrills me.”

However, producing music demands a significant investment, and I refuse to take the easy, artificial route. It’s more accessible and affordable than ever to create average and artificial music these days. But poetry? Poetry has always been far more accessible (and affordable) than music. And relying on AI for it feels even less justifiable than for music. Of course, one can use AI just as we use writing prompts, for instance. AI can assist, but it should never replace authentic creative expression.

The process of writing poetry is more immediate, whereas music involves a more layered approach, with multiple stages such as composing, recording, mixing, and mastering.

Writing poetry keeps me sane while I navigate the financial limits that prevent me from producing music the way I envision. With poetry, I can express my soul freely—”pen and paper” are all I need, a medium that has always been affordable, and always will be.

I can express myself more fully through music than through poetry, although I strive to master poetry with the same dedication as I do music. It just so happens that music is my ultimate passion, offering a freedom of expression that feels more universal than poetry.

I plan to explore music more on this blog in the near future, mostly by sharing song lyrics, but also occasional performances and finished works. Let’s see what the future holds.

No title would do it justice for now

May I have your attention? Big companies pay large sums for it; I can’t afford that much. What I can offer is to reciprocate your intention… You may have my attention, if you show that you care. It’s not as difficult as it might seem; I’ve read that writing you’ve shared. Those lines have spoken to me. Had you meant them, just know I felt cared for.

Sometimes perseverance/ Barely even makes a sound/ Underground

It feels like it takes a time and all the energy you have… to find success.

Perseverance: it doesn’t mean banging one’s head against a wall, or as I would  depict it “Bare hands/ against a knife/ punching harder and harder”. Sorry for the strong image, only here to be disregarded. I can’t visualize it, but I trust you when you say you can.

But, back to the lines, my all time favorites:

Sometimes perseverance
Barely even makes a sound
Underground

Perseverance, often seen as a strong and vocal force, can sometimes be quiet: hidden (in the confines of one’s mind), subtle, unackowledged… Perseverance is not always relentless force; it can be quiet resilience, shaping outcomes slowly but surely. It can feel like “gentle waters/ kissing the shoreline.”

And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming. Here, listen to this:

An Exciting Childhood. Oh, wait

What TV shows did you watch as a kid?

A very few, if any, that I could persuade my mother to let me watch, instead of her soaps or the like. And being limited to broadcast TV, we only had four or five channels, so…

I remember watching Ed, Edd n Eddy and Doug, for instance. But it could be that I actually watched them a little older; aphantasia affects my memory recall a bit. Oh yeah, what an exciting childhood…

Anime shows: Saint Seiya, Yu Yu Hakusho, Dragon Quest: The Adventure of Dai, Legend of Heveanly Sphere Shurato, and Dragon Ball Z.

I first watched Dragon Ball Z with my cousins at my aunt’s house.

Red Sky

Gazing at this crimson sky,
— it seems a mirror —
Of the blood-soaked earth,
Spoils of that war…

And the rain is precipitated
It can hardly wait to fall…
Washing the soil,
like cleaning a sidewalk,
that dirties as it dries.


Adapted from:

Céu vermelho

Olhando, este céu vermelho
— parece espelho —
Do sangue desta terra,
Espólio dessa guerra…

E a chuva precipita-se,
Mal espera pra cair…
E lava o solo,
como quem lava a calçada,
que suja-se ao passo que seca.