“Divide it among nobody!”
they say,
“Share it with the numbers!
Feed it to the armies that await!
Don’t let the dead starve in their graves-
For they hunger and thirst most of all.
Let the water grace their lips!
Let the it splash upon the despised desert
that once was a field full of flowers.
Let food fill the stomach with a stormful sea!
Let their harbor rest in peace!
For they hunger like a haggard man holding on for hope.
Let them take a breathe and exhale it.
Let their lungs fill with life so they can shout and sing!
Let their brains buzz and be, so ours no longer must!
-For only they have the notes and the lyrics to sing what once was dear!
For they only can sing the long forgotten years!
Let us not forget their voices in vain!”
they shout,
“why should we let their bare bones be satisfied in their somber slumber?
For they only are in alive in a memory,
Only awake in one’s sleep-
And even those shall cease to be!”
They say,
“Please listen to our candid pleas.
We speak for those who do not speak.
Their whispers only leave a faint trace of beguile on a painted cheek
that grow quieter and quieter still.
For they wish to be more than teachers
whose mistakes and triumphs are showcased for all to see.
They wish to be more than di’en.
They wish to be alive like you and me.”

They were wrong.

Verse 1:
I wish I could sing
like a song bird
Beautiful thing
Uses not a word
He's not afraid
to share his song
That God has made.
Delightful of a thing
Not afraid to be heard.


chorus:

Pretty song birds
Give me a tune
That can be heard
Even by the moon.
I'll sing me a tune
For the ages strewn
Return to mockingbirds.

Verse 2:
If I could sing
What a thing
using kind words
beautiful songbird
Confessing it's maker
Jesus the peacemaker
By God the orginator
Using just my words.

It was the thunder
that told us
her bedtime story
that night

tales of new life
of rains, spring
and morning flowers
far, far away

a storm story
to sing us to sleep.

The heart of mine
Sings a tune
That does not need
To rhyme with moon.
The heart of mine
Does not need
Language at all,
To make its point a heed.
It says what it wants,
It does as it wills,
And I let it play
Like a child, unstill.
I let it rupture
Its voluptuous rant
About how it’s ignored
Or let it signal its chant.
I let it pout
I let it shout,
And do I ever
Let it all out.
I listen to its sage advice,
And let it counsel,
Its rhythm suffice.
It has a way
Of saying the right things
By saying nothing,
But still it sings.
My heart does a dance
Whether I want it or not,
But I have lived in a cage,
Why should my heart be fought?
And pummeled down
Like all of the rest,
To be less than free,
To be less than best?
I let it live its life,
I let it chant its tune,
And boy does it ever
Rhyme poems with “moon.”

My fondest memories are those of you
And listening to you sing
For moments could go unnoticed
While time drifted from the mind
You are nothing to regret
You are not a bad person
You are but only, a miracle in the making.
And soon you shall be a savior to those
Whom you used to be. They need you.

Sweet lips and kind eyes
I'd sing you all the praises a man can
My Overworked Angel

touch soft and gentle
you radiant being
a feather against my body

warm and gracious is she
perfumed voice
enough to make me bloom

draw a bath. close your eyes.

soak in your bath. (and then sink, lower)

look up, and then higher than that.

read the discourse in the light. read the flutter, the frivolity, the fumes. read it all.

and sing. whisper. scream. rage. rage rage rage rage rage rage rage. sigh. fall back. lament.

pull the stopper. drain your bath. wait.

stand up. stand tall, and then taller than that.

turn and look. really look in the mirror.

but just look. observe. vigilant.

turn away, not ashamed, not proud.

wrap a towel.

step out.

rinse & repeat.