The rattle in your lung
says the choice is no longer yours

Pause

For thought or effect,
the end’s the same

Played your hands in the game like always

But

The rattle in your lung
says the choice is no longer yours

And where did the vitriol get you,
old man?

To a better place?
Where fat white women sing your praise?

While at home your carbon copies
bust their lips
when the home team loses?

The rattle in your lung
says the choice is no longer yours

You waiting for something?
Applause for working a nine to five
and allowing a fraction
of your take home to be spent on living,
raising?

The rattle in your lung
says the choice is no longer yours

I’ll stand over you now
As you stood over me
Instead of raining blows
I’ll let the misery of your truth
Catch in your chest
and fight for the cause

The rattle in your lung
says the choice is no longer yours

Is a Child
A mirror of himself
his father,  and his father's fathers.
All culminating within the palms
Of his own two hands
His newborn babe.

He wonders in awe,
"How can I best teach, support, and love you?"
With ears of compassion
Eyes of love, and a heart of gratitude
His Spirit spoke,

"Allow your light to shine."
Allow your heart to breathe.
Allow your your ego
to slip away into the shadow
Of your Ancient Wise Soul.

He felt it!
As he breathed deeply
Down to the depths of his soles.
A heartfelt love
A love that was only imagined
Until this very moment

It seems to me
that as people get older
they mature
not like fine wine
but getting more stale
and more bitter
with each passing year.
Coffee, perhaps?

What if there was no rush?
Only an infinity of time
To discover the world
And all you could do.
But that is simply not true.
We all head to our grave
Minute by passing minute
Year by passing year
Just because this is so,
Is it wise to rush?
Or wiser to take your time
And let your roots grow deep
Soaking in the richness
Of an Earth that has seen many generations.
It is only then we truly live
And not drift like dead wood
Afloat a windy river
That leads to a long drop over a waterfall.
Let's establish ourselves,
And become a true part
Of this magical world.
Fashion yourself into this work of art.
Engrave your essence into the bedrock of history.
Don't allow the wind of this generation
To disanchor your heart.
Let your grip tighten
Into the realms of future and past
For they can be easily forgotten
Among the nagging realities of today
And the constant worries of the present week.
Are we allowed to drop the shallow,
And explore the deep waters?
The unknown exists.
It welcomes the rarest souls
Into its hidden chambers.
But who dares to go there?
Who cares to go there
When the colourful attractions
Of previous discovery shine all around you?
Convenience the wall that guards the masses
From the hidden worlds that lay beneath.

the tree grew in rocky soil -
now its fruit is decaying.
its seeds fell into
the same rocky soil,
sprouting into trees
with the same decaying fruit.

these trees feel the decay.
they know to spread their seeds
where the soil is fertile.
and the resulting trees
will bear ripe fruits
for future generations.

Well you know whats going on-
You know yet you still sit there and
wait-

So while at it give life a thought-

not yours but the kids

-why even are we doing it?

It's survival

We look different.
Yet we are the same people.
We each desire to love and be loved.
We each desire to belong and let others know they belong.
We each have gifts, talents, strengths and weaknesses.
We each have something innate within each of us
It supports us, leads us, guides and protects us along the way.
We each desire to know, seek and find peace.
Not only for ourselves do we hope for all of this
This yearning extends to our children, grandchildren
And to all of our generations to come.
In this way, we are the same, all over the world.
May peace and joy be with you and your loved ones
This beautiful holiday season

Gazing through the window at generations of flowers in the garden of her long-departed youth.

The pendulum of time passes in consonance with the rocking of her chair until she smiles her last breath.

©