Drums breathe low in a half-lit room’s haze
Trumpet cuts sharp through tobacco’s lazy blaze
Clave splits open the quiet of the night
One shared pulse under soft amber light

Havana on my left hand, uptown in my right
Conga on the corner pulling bodies to the light
Piano finds a doorway in a warm back-street bar
Smoke mixed with sugar, we are drifting toward the stars
Your shoulders take the rhythm, barefoot on the floor
Each subtle sidestep opening a hidden door
Salt rising slowly on the surface of your skin
Ritual of strangers where the old gods slip in

A Harlem window leaning into Caribbean breeze
Radio from Prado sliding through the Brooklyn trees
Bass walks calmly while the timbales flare
Skyscrapers shimmer to a quiet Santo prayer
Your laughter bends the measure, slips behind the beat
Cross-rhythm lovers where the body and the city meet
You whisper by my ear that the night won’t find its end

Circle of drummers in a borrowed basement room
Hands strike bright like candles, each hit a bloom
Ancestors listening through the ceiling cracks
Guiding every turnaround, every brass attack
In the hush between the hits a hidden river grows
Motherland currents wrapped in a modern close
We are only echoes learning how to stay
Riding on the backline till the edge of day

Montuno on the keyboard like a second tongue
Trumpet drawing spirals where both cities are sung
You pull me even closer on the off-beat sway
Sweat turning to a language we had locked away
Harbor lights behind us, subway hum below
Island heart and uptown soul trading glow
Every turn a story, every dip a sign
Future in the footwork, past along the spine

A rooftop chorus calling in gentle reply
Body against body under a glowing sky
Havana to Manhattan on a single breath of night
Guardians in the drumskin keeping pathways bright
Hold me in the ending where the horns convulse
Two cities, one body, one eternal pulse

Havana on my left hand

The entire sound is in my hands. I write cyber poetry, produce, and compose every track ready for Immersive 3D. Every beat is crafted for spatial and next-gen headphones.
Intimate lyrics, total immersion, every track.

For 30 years I kept unfinished demos to myself, never letting them out. Now I finish what I start and release it the moment it’s alive.

I use every tool available, human or machine, as an instrument.
Technology doesn’t replace creativity. It expands it.

New tracks tagged #real‑time delays