There is peace, it resides in the shallow breaths of your words.
I feel at ease, like I’m under a roof of stars
holding back the past.
Hand in hand, your fingers interlaced with mine
Moments are fragments of a photograph from another time.
And although we’re lost somewhere across the sea.
I can’t help but feel like it’s all meant to be
I’m home, where I belong,
and time? It has nothing on me.

A ghost of a house is a blueprint
A soul of a blueprint is a sketch
A sketch's spirit is in vision
And lemme tell you, your vision's quite a stretch

He so cold cool he hot
Peep be like: word
Mixing trax in da klub
King of tha mix
They all: we lit
Layin down them oldskool
Cuttin in some riddim
Droppin beatz
Sound system be like: higher
Mixmaster T play it 4 tha playas
And 4 tha kidz
Funk Soul Hiphop Latin House
(White House too!)
Thatz why he prezident
Funky Commander-in-Chief
Talkin bout Tha Dee-Jay y'all
Nuff respeck
Cuz its about LOVE people...
So dig your DJ:

☆D.J. TRUMP☆

Woosh woosh
The floor is gone
I love remodeling

Home is humane
much like a mother's love
that's omnipresent, caring and warm,
Much like her absence, is the house that is just
brick and mortar.
For in her absence,
the roof changes into dark clouds,
the floor cracks into an abyss,
shaking my hold on the earth,
to that of a child who is on his feet,
for the very first time,
Where is my home?
the space so familiar, but the feeling gone?
The child I am,
stood there waiting for a hand to hold his,
to show him the way.
but all I saw,
was brick and mortar.

i sometimes think
that you don't care
or maybe
that you dont realise
the pain you spark
inside my soul,
but also inside the house
the sadness is in the air
and breathing is a necessity
but it's hard to keep doing that with the contamination

It is not your house
that is broken
Decrepit beams
may wear
but never rot
When there is little left
but scattered boards
wanton wood
Shingles
They ask you
how your eyes
could be so weak
Watery
Maybe it was the flood
pouring through them
Who wants to blink
muddy tresses
away?
Feel it all crumbling
about you.

My childhood house
has been ruined in a cheap remodel

I spent
15 years in that bedroom
hiding and hoping
to disappear

It worked -
now there's no trace of us left at all

Me and that room, both
far too small
(for what I was to become)

That sunroom-turned-hideout
has all it's guts on display
the red wires sparkling
in the light of day

The space it once held (for me)
a cavern of power, open now
adds itself to the lounge
creating space for others
Am I one with this room?

The fire that kept my wall warm in winter,
has been ripped apart

Gone with it,
the hole in the back of the chimney
where I had a cupboard for keeping rocks
The same cupboard
That wouldn't close
Even when jammed with books
Jammed close, because,
I feared I was watched through the crack
by some mysterious force
maybe even the whole world
in on it all

Gone;
is the laundry that Dad used as a darkroom
(his own hideaway)
the red lamp: a signal burning bright
summoning us to join his cause
Or be left behind

Gone;
is the hall door that was slammed for effect
Slammed over and over in a war that still wages on
Gone;
is the cube shower with the folding door
a place to cry without any sign
Gone;
Is the multi coloured lupins I planted in '96
hoping they would overtake all of the other ground
saying that YES I was here
and YES I was real
In.the.dirt.

But Dad is happy the Apple tree remains.