Enjoy a creative writing mashup of inspirational words behind the playlist I listened to while developing my first book. Some lines might be lyrics to your favorite song. I outlined the character’s of ‘Booj-Wah-Zee‘ and chapter rules under the influence of many songwriters and artists, whose songs have turned into the soundtrack for the book. To read more, click here.
Thursday, January 9, 2020
I’m a maniac writing crazy for cash. I miss my grandma’—she raised the beast in me. The saxophone inspires me. Whether I’m writing a cover letter, resume, email, poem, journaling, editing a book or texting, I’m writing into the future.
And so are you.
If I could teach the world anything, it wouldn’t start with how to be a thug in harmony, rather how to stay yourself in society. First, assume you are the world’s greatest in your next task, and tell no one.
It’s a great song. Despite the man’s ugly past, there’s a feeling you can’t deny the song provides. Allow me to prove it.
The hilltop down the street from my home was once dreadful to run. Last time I ran the hill I made it my bitch. Took a right turn at the top as it continues up, and with no side-roads I danced and sang my way further up.
View of Mt. Hood from Happy Valley, OR
Altitude, no issues. I ran up to Lord Knows—because it’s in God’s Plan to help me remember those songs.
I may look skinnier, but like Damo once told me, “you gotta’ go higher each time.” This made my muscles defined.
Failure got me going higher, it keeps on liftin’ me up inspired—to inspire. It’s what trusting does to me. Now to you I transpire.
There’s a reason these words rhyme with fire…
Leaving the rivers to dissipate, feel weary yet? Source must be cloudy? With the securities you lost, it’s leading to the wars in your head, seeking your old sense of control.
Well, that was the river, and this is the sea…
Shifting gears here, I just wanna’ show you something a little different. And by writing from retro places, it explains who the hell Mr. Hansen is. As an alternative, his ego is all I have.
“Show me the green light!” He whispers as I awaken.
Some people don’t get it. It’s a brand-new part of me. It took a long, long time to get here. Many nights of crying for reasons I couldn’t explain, but fear.
The greater disturbing cries distorted themselves into tears of joy. Through leaving the muddy waters alone, I was able to see it settle and flow to unite with waters across the new world. Soon, I found me in places I’ve yet traveled to.
Because I kept dreaming—it wasn’t very hard. Except for feeling like no one was on my side.
I’m places I once dreamt to be. Looking back, I see my aggressive desire to control my dreams disturbed the settled waters—which is how things have been and will always be.
I blame me for those muddy waters. Accountability builds trust, allowing waters to unite for an eternity.
Now that my sentences are burning like gasoline, and spewing words as they’re frolicking, recognize I am not a rapper. But soon a poetry slam dabber. To prove to you all I’m a hypocrite, this is what it’s like to give it all you got tonight. This moment is all we have. How are you choosing to enjoy it?
Thank you for choosing to read my random creative writing prompt.
From the wyld-child creating, uptown top ranked writing businessman thriving, he’s making all this shit up. Learning how his mind fucks with his emotional expectations.
In conclusion, my weather lady crush continues. I’ll send her my book.
If you want a simple takeaway from this chaotic lyrical wordplay thing, understand the five love languages. I wrote about mine’s here. (thanks for reading)
While writing these words, I can’t describe my muddy thoughts, because they’re written from the fire of music. And songs which transpired into imaginary stories. The writer in me was touched by the vibes of these songwriters and artists.
Although it’s not my preferred love language, receiving gifts from people I’ve never met is rare and extraordinary.
But how random is it that these 70ish songs, from 7 different genres, come together and help develop a book? Maybe as random as the thought that I believe we all have a hidden playlist only listened to with headphones.
And a gift I won’t hide is my heart—it’s what these songs remind me to show.
Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes to encourage readers to explore the depths of their inner ocean, an unexplored self, because it's fun once you get through the emotional part... "The words we speak become our vehicle; what you read is how I digest them.” -Budd