Harry casts bullets every **** shift
He beats up his wife and watches TV
At any time he could sneak away to his neighbor
But he goes to the garage to play the blues

Maria is a granddaughter of a witch
She burns candles and sings sad songs
Her grandmother seduced all the men in town
And the girl lives alone

So many strange people
So many sad eyes
Resembling a steeple
Their hands clasp… And time flies…

Kelly works as a milkmaid at a farm
Village children come to her with a jug
Every night she prays to God to send her a baby
But her doctor says there is no such drug

The wino priest Austin carves wooden birds
Every night he waits for UFOs
Fifty years on, there’s no signal from space
And on the grave of his son there’s a fresh red rose.

So many strange people
So many sad eyes
Resembling a steeple
Their hands clasp… And time flies…

Strained lines on her face,
Tears wash away her makeup
Sobs a broken heart

Dear muse

Dozen times Ive tried
Writing the pain away
Memory doesnt so
Easily fade

The thing is
I dont want to
Feel any of this
Not sad or angry or hurt

I dont know
How to make this
All better

Turn me back into a person
Not a shell
Struggling to
Define the worth of life

Dear muse
If I die now
I hope you feel
Enough to know
What we had was
Real to me

My sunrise is morning to be whipped
It’s the hot sun in cotton picking on the plantation
The Master forces you to give him information
My thought of Freedom being a proclamation
I can’t even express my own explanation
I pray oh Lord
I am your faithful following in accord
Oh those beaten days
The long seemingly days
The Master continues to beckons
I pray to the Lord that he changes his ways
Being a slave certainly can’t stay
Beaten paths
Escape to where and how?
One day just one day
Freedom will reign
I may not be alive to see
But my Soul will know in everything Freedom should be
A Slave’s eyes see distance beyond any mortal’s demise, but wisdom and understanding keeps our focus in remaining wise.

Like flesh missing from my bones, your absence screams at me
dry days fold into empty nights that even sleep refuses to visit
the warm of your breath starkly unavailable
life it seems left with you
the heart wants what the heart wants
it cut its self out
what use has it of these dry bones
and this longing disposition
seeking only your return
one dropless beat at a time
I wait for the get down
when your eyes breath life back into mine
and brings the flesh back to these bones