dancin' with Jack on my shoulders this morning...my heart is going good and...Lord knows I'm a voodoo child baby...Jack pat pat pat on my crew cut head and hoot hoot hoot as I spin and dance along and suddenly I throw my dreads back in the hot southern sun of Alabama with all twelve fingers outstretched from the end of my spine shooting acid electricity screaming cause I'm a voodoo child...........voodoo child.......and jack holds on smiling and laughing and digging every bit of it all the way back to our living room...
Stray cat shufflin’ down
the street at dawn
Don’t know where he’s been, but
it’s time to go home.
Blind rat hiding in
the shadow’s light
He’s too old to run, but
not afraid to fight.
Storm clouds blowin’ in
from miles around
Gotta seek shelter, or
your soul might drown.
Sometimes it’s hard to hear
what’s harder to say
Have to keep living, Lord,
for one more day.
There’s no way out, and just
one way down
Devil’s gonna catch you
just hanging around
Awesome reading, folks - keep `em coming!!! Stuman, thanks for getting this started!
I had a dream
I was a great travler of all space and time
I have no control of this journey
I own nothing but the clothes on my body
and an old tatterd road map
I have no freinds
I have no familly
no knowlege of where or when i would travle
only the knowleageto help people i did not know
I was tired.
I did sleep, only to awaken in a different place
a different time
just wandering, looking for road sings
and checking my old tatterd road map
to determin where i was
every day every hour
a different senario
different people, different places
I would fall into peopls lives
like the leaves falling in autum
I would help these strange people
no matter of their situation
they did not know me
they did not remember me
so so very tired
scared to sleep
I never know where
or when I will wake
It is off to sleep I go
where i will wake ,I do not know
Is this a dream at all ?
Oh so very strange where the road leads.
he is what he eats
i am what i see
he is what he consumes
i am what i hear
he is what he collects
i am what i love
he is what he takes
i am what i choose
written on my birthday, 2 days after my sister passed over
my life is in a notebook
not a book of wishes
not a book of hopes
not a book of magic
not even a book of dreams
just a simple little notebook
pushing pulling whirling filling overflowing
words spill out
on the ground
leaving stains residue and moving around
talking talking talking talking
relentless energy impossible to ignore coming from
this tank is filling overflowing spilling staining
everybody watching pointing talking seeing
taking taking taking taking
pumping pumping spilling moving staining
hurting swelling bursting
(The Dead) 6-29-03
Pray for world peace and for those around you.
In this lifetime and when of this world
You must live to see it through
So let's live as one as never lived before
Cultivate destiny, leave the circle, piece together a Patchwork map.
Follow the people of a similar glimmer.
For the way that stays one to never sway
leaves the weary to rest upon its resplendent plateau.
Nothings impossible while everything possible is being done.
Ten years ahead of its time from a town nine years behind the nearest city.
Curiosity, pending probability, simplified stratagems' intuitive glint
Recreating yesterday while all the while innovating tomorrow. Reliving being born tomorrow
Politics of fun are not that different from day to day.
The Ethereal community self policed utopian nuance
A sacred dance in the shadow of their wingspan
Sun pours and sometime it seems as if it's ours to offer.
Spontaneous arrival, what happens to you happens to me
Good people doing well towards each other
Best to better yet, can't be done any better.
Purpose and intention of those attempting to bridge the distance,
Freeborn dancers swirl, fade not. Under the sun or hiding behind the clouds
Recreating yesterday, all the while innovating tomorrow Images, objects, issues, aspects of interaction
As if this where spontaneous, and in turn adhere, In the theater of humanity
An audience of identical nuance Manifesting presence as people of similar glint
All at once declare there's nothing strange about free speech.
OK. So, this one is sort of a follow-up to one I wrote, and a good friend of mine put music to, a long time ago. We'll see what the future holds. . .
"Suzie's Still Gone"
Her mama wondered where she'd gone
Until the day the angels came
She cried herself to sleep each night
In her heart she held the blame.
She left her home somewhere down South
With dreams of where she'd go
But never in her young girl dreams
Could she feel cold rain and snow.
Now Suzie's living turning tricks
Shame cuts her like a knife
She feels too damn dead for dyin
For her, living ain't much life.
There's heartache on the streets tonight
So many lifetimes full of pain
Faces filled with "want-to-go"
But they'll be back again.
Stories made to melt a heart
Coax the dollars from your fist
Eyes of stone cold emptiness
Staring at you thru the mist.