Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

MAMA
a sweet voice calls
running to me
as if I haven’t seen her in days
it’s only been minutes

I love you
she cries
tiny arms wrapped around my neck
squeezing with all her might

I love you
so much
again, again
I LOVE YOU

everyday
sometimes every five minutes
I know I’m loved
by at least one
just enough
never too much

sweet sweet love
three year old love

Preacher, don't send me
when I die
to some big ghetto
in the sky
where rats eat cats
of the leopard type
and Sunday brunch
is grits and tripe.

I've known those rats
I've seen them ****
and grits I've had
would make a hill,
or maybe a mountain,
so what I need
from you on Sunday
is a different creed.

Preacher, please don't
promise me
streets of gold
and milk for free.
I stopped all milk
at four years old
and once I'm dead
I won't need gold.

I'd call a place
pure paradise
where families are loyal
and strangers are nice,
where the music is jazz
and the season is fall.
Promise me that
or nothing at all.

I am losing the fire in me,
the fight in me, it's a tragedy.
I can't keep up the pace,
lost in this race, accepting my fate.

I never wanted to settle,
losing the battle, little by little.
Jack of all trades, master of none,
I lost all the fun, I think I am now done.

I can't see where I am going,
what am I doing, that window is closing.
I will be alright,
right? Is there a light?

We will take it one day at a time,
writing a rhyme, gonna be just fine.
I will travel the world, see everything,
read everything, a million songs to sing.

Life never follows the plan,
made by the man, lost in the sand.
But life is still yours,
get up of the floor and kick down the doors.