#testify
Keep singing your song!
Some may not like it
But nobody else can do it.
You are the singer, sing!
Do it loud and proud,
Your own thing. Sing!
And if they sing along
Then you’re not doing
Anything wrong. It’s your song.
And they can go right along
Or find another tune to sing
One that brings them as much
As your song brings you.
They joy will shine right through.
The story is in the lyric
Sometimes it is mystic
But singing it out is cathartic
It lets the music out of you.
There’s nothing better to do
Than to hear your own music;
Know it’s fantastic
Realistic, authentic.
Then be brave enough to share,
Let your song out into the air.
Bounce your sound off walls
And if people hear you at all
Maybe they will want to do
Exactly the same as you, too,
And keep on singing their song.
How can that ever be wrong?
Keep on singing your song!
Sep 27, 2017
Sep 27, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC
Asking any evangelist what the good news is,
and how it works, in one who understands it.
Some evangels dancing on my keys
Ai and I, your eyes in the why me now…
As the reporter assigned this
query or is it an expedition?
Or a trap, curiosity
walks into it,
asking himself,
how he conceives subjects
objectifiable mentally fully functional
for praying right, and rearranging ever
without risking heresy.
The sect requires prayers perceive
precepts as handles, here
when just a bit of space
or time
stops
to allow a proper revisioning,
in 2025, I am still alive and writing,
thinking, behavior is an odd word,
having being, I think it must mean
on this spectrum
of who would
read this, some,
I betcha, will
it’s the moral in Kevin Costner movies,
If you make it they will come, only believe
Waterworld did get me to go…
but it did not get my kids,
The Postman, too, got me, but missed
my kids,
until Annie Jacobsen eliminated
all the strategic agreements
resonated perfected nonsense re
sense
in days
of Trump and Netanyahoo
Yah whom, kaboom, better revelation
the post nuclear future option…
Life 2.0 will end if such a war ever were
beginnable by a mad man, in the President's
chair, eh, chairman of the board, holy
laying on of hands for all the faithful to see,
the champion struts out of Gaza, to meet
Little David,
Oy vey.
Yada, means nothing these days, I told you.
Oct 15, 2025
Oct 15, 2025 at 4:12 PM UTC