It's Mozart, Slayer, and Nina Simone. Mahler, Kronos Quartet, and Tom Waits through a wall of blue smoke. Poetry as music resounds the infinite, mysterious wave of color ripping through space, through time, through flesh and water; breaking through the bullshit and gripping your heart, revealing the words that describe your dark places and love, your weakness and victories: touching us deeper where nothing else can see to reach.

I imagine an orchestra,

A violin of pretty words

And cello of syllables,

A great gong of full-stop.

The beginning is soft and symbolic

And by the end, crescendoes

Into a note that remains

A ringing in the ears,

For years to come.

My poetry is a music of simplicity. I stick to a specific rhythm and usually rhyme. Yet, it's not the pattern by which you write but what you write that matters. I know I'm not the most imaginative writer, nor the most creative, vivd, metaphorical, or beautiful poetry writer, but I think the message I carry is important. Sometimes I describe my thought is in a short poem and other times a longer one. A central point matters to me, though. It's a point that complexity is not always best. Sometimes the most simple things can mean a lot more than something that is very elaborate. So to answer the question, my poetry is a poetry of a genre of music simple yet important. I would like to think of it as the punk rock way to write poetry. I'm typically simple and straight-forward, holding an essence of truth in my words and a feeling of suffering in my voice. To

Well now that is a very important question.

Mine is the Franz Joseph Haydn's symphony No. 94.

See this is a very special piece of music dubbed the surprise symphony. It's sole purpose was to be used as revenge on the people who kept falling asleep during Hayden's symphony's.

Go and listen to it. Drink some culture wine while you're at it and recognise the brilliance. The glaring chords in the piece make it somehow more beautiful.

The woven melody of the instruments only broken by that cord where the woodwinds shine through with their brassy noise and immediately go back to the smooth lullaby.

My poetry won't often be in your face loud but you read it a few times and you'll see the bigger picture I'm announcing. Read it out loud and you'll notice the lyrical lit.

Think about it awhile.

Now wake up or you keep staying awake.