It is not for the beat of my drum
It is for the beating of the sun
Cooked in red/yellow rays
Reminding me of an old letter
That came in the mail
Holding three dried rose petals
And one single ring
Caressed in my worn hands
Like a mother would
On the day that love did win
That shall come to pass.
I didn’t open up the pages
To find you dying alone here
I woke my warrior
In day steps, dreamily
Dancing to a beat
Of ten thousand drums
Upon my back and shoulders
Remind me of my ancestors
Who never had a chance
Reminding me of my heritage
That grew up too quick
Reminding me that I am a warrior
No matter which path I tread upon
For it is not the footsteps
That lead a path away
It is a heart that leads the footsteps
Upon a path so virtuous
Making freedom a deeper thing
Truth of unimaginable expanse
And I am there, animated
A page I forever open
To step my beating heart
This path I know is mine.
I’m an artistic soul who runs amock
Given in to too many fantasies
Only a hammer to my name
Come and enjoy loving hard
And long haired legged truth
Driving a hard bargain
With a straw hat for the sun
Leaves a weary worker
Leaning in for two more glasses
Reminding him of a ghost
Running deep in his blood
Scoffing at each new penny
Spent in mirths dear folly
Along the road of distant drumming.
I travel to lonely points of inactivity;
Challenge even the iron hearts,
Let my fruit fall all about me here
And lose my heart to a beating drum.
I crawl down to the setting sun;
Steep slope and I’m bleeding mom,
Hands gnarled, so let me gently down
Back to my cold and lonely ground.
I’ve swept out the tangled mess;
Chilling webs of my sweet duress,
If an Angel should come right now
Pull my arrow to shoot her down.
I have got angels.
They dance around naked with long blonde locks
And sing amongst each other banging a drum.
Whenever I stand up to join the chorus
They stop and they wonder and stare at me lost;
It’s not a ‘what the hell is he doing’ stare,
But a ‘caught in the crossfire of beauty’ look.
They tell me my voice is why they stay
Dancing around here, naked as they play.
I have no reason to not believe my angels
For when I am lonely, they are my commitment.
They are what brushes past my face after tears flow,
They are what flickers in my early morning eyes,
They are the cinnamon spicing my sauce,
They are what smooths my sleepy brow out.
My angels cannot do me wrong.
No matter what song perches about their supple lips,
Their fingers dance nimbly through the air.
When they dream of things I cannot yet see,
Their drum echoes through my heart
And I imagine that I can indeed see their spells,
– Woven upon me so tight –
And I hear even in daylight they’re not far away.
When I begin dancing, when I share their dream,
I know I have got angels, and they have got me.