Sing me a song.
Sing of days of folly.
Sing it sad...
Sing it as it is.
Sing its story.

Extend each syllable
into mournful vibratos.
Drown the
crests of choruses
with wrenching falsettos.

Let it be soft...
But sharp as a knife is keen.
Let it reach into my chest.
And grab at the lull in between.

So sing me a song.
Sing to me how I failed.
Serve me my sadness.
Sing to me...
My tale.

Sing, Sing, Sing,
Ruffle, trees, in the sound of the wind
Let not the cry bother you.
Dance, Dance, Dance,
Let not your father’s scent be lost for direction,
Sing praise, homeless bird, that the great vulture
Shall not tear off your wings.
Entomb your soul, and sing.
Return your being, and sing.
Flutter to the skies, and sing.
Bow your head to the noble talon and sing.
If you may fall, let me fall with you.
If you may fly, let me fly with you.
If you may die, let me die with you.

In wild, wild moments there’s the rush of wind
Upon my face, streaming out strands of hair
As I run down hills of mind on lissom legs,
Twigs snapping under my feet while I remain
Childlike and playful, blissful and unaware.
But all this in my mind because
I cannot do this barefoot running anymore.
Can’t run at all.  Those days of mad abandon gone.
But I can still walk slowly on the nice neat paths
Among the bluebells and my heart can still
Skip, dance and jump for joy and sing its song

Spring… by Jessie 3/07

Awaken… slumber no more
Arise and allow the warmth of longer days to melt away encapsulated desires.
Like sap from a tree, surging to its highest points, rejuvenating and bringing life back to the dormant.
Blink, then blink again, reacquaint thy eyes with anew
Reach out; allow the sinew that binds around thy bones to become malleable
Smell the sweet allure of what’s to come
Young buds waiting to burst in an array of colors, painting last season’s neglect
The faint sound of the highest keys, musically tapping into an ensemble
of nourishing delight.
Shifting winds, cleansing the earth of its ice incrusted shell
Meadowlarks, blessing the transformation with their melodic calls
Bathe, in the new day of Spring

We didn’t have
any microphone.
We sang,
with the might
of twenty lions,
a savage melody
as soft as flowing water,
a deafening pitch
thar ripped the wind.
It was out of tune,
our joyful voices
lamented spells of hope,
echoing furiously
against the trees
and all over the town.
They heard us
but we didn’t mind.
Maybe everyone heard us.
They wouldn’t understand.
At that jade corner
of the world,
which was ours
and where only us could be heard
we sang with the might of twenty lions
until our voices faded away.

Shlup,shloop
I'm walking on the roof
Shlup,shloop
I'm listening to you
Shlup,shloop
I'm with you at once
It's raining outside
I really attend to ride
Shlup , shloop
The bird is singing
And learn me how to sing
In the rainbow's stadium

In the car somewhere between all the laughter and singing,
it happened.

Everything changed.

He went from being a face in the crowd to a one man show.

The spotlights are all on him.

From a known friend to a familiar stranger.

One who makes me so nervous I can't stand it.

I no longer see the same person, his appearance is different.

I can't pretend anymore.

It's still fun and games,
but this underlying tension..

The too long gazes, sweaty palms and shaky words.

Heart's beating out my chest by hearing his name.

Seeing him makes my legs weak.

Acting like nothing around him is a challenge.

Yet I long for the next time.

Dinero, sangre, fuego,
consumimos nuestra verdad
Dinero, sangre, fuego,
hasta donde vamos a llegar.

Pan, libros, paz
no vas a encontrar,
pues bajo los muros
no hay carne,
huesos nada más.

Circo para pueblo
y tristemente volvemos a olvidar,
somos gente en un zoologico
lo dijo el loco con indudable razón.

No busques más
no son aguilas de libertad,
son buitres con disfraz.
En esta ciudad
solo caen los restos,
nadie lo afirmara en
La ciudad de los huesos