Current Events
eating my words [vi]
trumpets of Patmos
ueber alles in der Welt
shake well my soul on fire the water gone our words all liars cartoon Sunday morning blues grew up soon code red the rings of things evil we loved you but let’s not forget should not idolize because we’ll fall down first shake well into the eye of the pitch silent universe until the concert of the dawn is birthed with hallelujah meanwhile on Hill and First we cling to silly cardboard laws which are mathless in nature therefore null and void among the Let Us
philosophical phunk
the mind collapses violently the carnival of lies that entertained the young impressionable life suffered
a tear in it’s now rotted penetrable fabric cross stitches erupted with the weight of
boiling hot sin and the anger of the soul possessed by ignorance in the ultimate
court we will know who are the innocent Dante and i sipped old world rye
while we waited for the master of ceremony G Scott Heron to update us on
the state of the revolution and how the forests are ablaze and man stuck in
a maze of filters and face lifts and corporate octopussed armed megalomaniacs are worshipped for
curing babies to work the mines lest you forget not even you can nourish your
carcass on diamonds so we sit while the crowd let’s out
brink
it’s no good
i’m dubious should i or not
i took a walk around and around
inventoried the lost opportunities
of finding myself
Billie Holiday laments
and so do i
good morning heart ache she asks
i follow in a raspy girl whisper
what’s new
had i been a raconteur
would i had made a difference
in the mind that crazy hapless ass
i trudge a long time
exhausted
questioning
and as if by sheer exhaustion
the conclusion that i have no control
is reached
all my Sabbath mornings
no longer needed my fearful doubts
looking at the potted cactus fortitude
firmly planted in a soil that
only hope has a cherished soul
odd behavior
to practise a kind of common sense now would it make a difference medication domination exaggeration death of what we used to be for good bad or indifferent what is it in the seed of them that twists them this way would i know if God instructed it have you ever screamed trapped on your own dream while the glass walls shattered in your castle beware it could be real this panic that i feel while getting pushed into the forest
sanity
old monkey
sunshine of my heart
companion of my dull soul
make my spirit rise to the rouge skies
green vested like a tree you are so dear to me pink cheeked noisy silly boy only voice of reason in my head when everything in my news screen turns red
emancipated bird
these days some short some long these nights redemption lost taken somewhere far on the beaks of three little birds
when the mind is placed in a certain situation we recall and cherish when our feet were our carriage like when we shared my only bed
and holding onto to what we had was all that we needed being devoured by the light of your energy
but all i’ll ever have are those three blackbirds you bought when you went away
words less spoken 