This is an ode

that was written to all

Who’ve risen to answer 

that ancient call 

of music since 

the Neanderthal 

beat their sticks 

and wailed 

across cave walls... 

All who've touched 

fame's hems 

but never chose

to simply bend 

and break my friends

 but carried on 

with their endeavors

 when dreams to

wear Fame’s garb

all fell mispent

and sadly severed 

Back to their songs 

they proudly went, 

Just returning to play 

their songs of joy 

again and again 

day after day.... 

For it's not just 

for fame nor glory

 that they rise and tell 

their endless stories,

 although that would be nice.

 It's a sharing of one's soul, 

true musicians can't control,

 to give the world a slice

of all the blessings 

brought by muses

 those slave masters who

light the fuses

 in our hungry hearts, 

To pound the keys, 

to press the strings 

to finger pick 

with digital wings 

to wail on a sax,

or mix cool tracks,

 to beat dead skins, 

to ride that ax…. 

to tromp the bone, 

in brass encased, 

to go deeper

then bottomless

with your bass

 to kiss a harmonica’s

cold metal face…

 or squeeze out music

 Accordion-ly like

fresh juice 

for thirsty souls.

 
To let your violin

weep for you

 then rosin up the bow…

 or synthesize 

what mystifies,

 electronically 

so souls can fly

 across great 

space and time 

To grind an organ 

not of flesh

 but let exhaled chords

 sail and mesh

 into something sweeter, 

wild and fresh.

 
To orally

flat-ulate the flute,

 in notes so high 

most can’t compute.

 To blast, or make 

the trumpet mute 

and yet so sensuous.

 
The list of what 

we all play here

 is long and tenuous...

 plus Soprano,

Alto,Tenor bass

 giving all we have 

to the human race 

As we strum a Fender 

or Les Paul,

 brand names don't matter

when we give our all

to the public at large,

 to the masses who call

 for the power of music,

 when their spirits fall.

 
Anonymously playing 

except near home,

 where your talents are

 more widely known,

 rehearsing long

hours each day

 to chase all those

mistakes away

 blood sweat and tears

 are the dues we pay.

To bend each note 

into perfection 

anything less is 

the wrong direction, 

it’s dereliction of

our duties granted

 by the gods, 

who control what's sold

 it's reaching for

that vast pinnacle,

 where fame

embraces the bold.

So wail your blues,

 Spaz up your Jazz, 

Make country as downhome

 As the great stars have. 

Put more God into gospel

 Praise his name each day

 Answer classic calls 

In a classical way

 Let your rock and roll 

compleyely flatten those,

 Music producers 

always telling you no’s

 turn your front yard 

into bluegrass heaven,

 do some punk, bust it loose

 shock your fellow brethren, 

If your into rap

let those lines all flow

 in a rhythmic pattern

or go staccato.

 
Put what's hip in your hop

 make it shine like gold,

 cause being a musician

 will never grow old. 

But don’t forget to cheer 

Those who call you peers,

 Leave some dynamite comments

 For what blessed your ears. 

I know we're all busy

like bees on speed,

 trying to make more music,

 hoping to succeed. 

But spread some honey 

and they’ll come around,

 eager to pay you back

 for your wondrous sounds. 

To all of you who 

fan the flames 

at poze productions

I'll remember

your names, 

And I’ll never Dis ‘em

 Cause the music on here

 is your catechism, 

it's your faith and fear.

And don't forget to listen

cause you just might hear

 the next top ten

played again and again 

 or a number one hit,

 written by you

my friends....

written by you

my friends. 

Godspeed to all your

 musical endeavors

and a Outstanding

Ovation for all

 

Music due up soon

Lyrics by-

Matthew F. Blowers III

 Art~Whimsically Yours Studio-(c)-2015