I remember a time long ago
When each person carried emotional baggage in tow
We held friend and family member equally dear
Kissed every cheek and wiped away every tear
Now we lie cruel and rotting under the sun
Devoid of any sparks or pangs of fun
We’ve forgotten our righteous ways
Seek therapy from bad decisions and ashtrays
All sense of the common good is delivered through slow reactions
Overshadowed by emerald greed and ***-soaked distractions
I’ve tried to convince my children of the change
They just look at me as an old dog ripe with mange
To all my loved ones who have died
I can at least mutter "I tried"
I suppose it’s about time to scrape hope up and wash it down the drain
Sit out on my porch, feet propped up, watching society fall like rain

The cloudless day is richer at its close;
A golden glory settles on the lea;
Soft, stealing shadows hint of cool repose
To mellowing landscape, and to calming sea.

And in that nobler, gentler, lovelier light,
The soul to sweeter, loftier bliss inclines;
Freed form the noonday glare, the favour'd sight
Increasing grace in earth and sky divines.

But ere the purest radiance crowns the green,
Or fairest lustre fills th' expectant grove,
The twilight thickens, and the fleeting scene
Leaves but a hallow'd memory of love!

a home, above all else,
is familiar.
it does not have to be comfortable,
nor does it have to be full.
a home is probably a favorite place to be,
or maybe it houses some of the cruelest memories.

I like homes where I can drive quick and still avoid each upcoming pothole--
ones where old neighbors and new couples hunker down for their respectful chapters of life.
I like homes where I can walk around each obstacle in the kitchen with my eyes shut tight and only bang my shins a little bit.

a home is a sense, an intuition.
it is a place where you can dance while no one is watching.
you can fling your tears and regret at the walls and let them absorb your true feelings,
hushing you with their pillows and soft sounds and views.

a home is a home anywhere you choose it to be,
but above all else,
a home is familiar,
and that is a home to me.

The world might come to an end
but I will never bend
to attend the cell
ringing like damnation to hell.

This incessant ringing fills me with rage
like a tiger enslaved, enraged in cage.
'tis everything frightening
the evening's storm, thunder and lightening
pleasing silence no longer remains
grief, anger, frustration domains.

nerves rattle like a boiling kettle
knees weaken, heart's pounding fails to settle
deep breaths no longer help
words trapped and lumped.

fear, panic, dread
deprive me of the valor
to pick the call and end the terror.

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.