Tag: sing

Slowly into Tea

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I wish I could cry on the good days
when my tea is softly spoken
and each of my windows
have snow lightly dancing,
exploring my imagination
in waxing crescent arising.

So it’s said my moon is slowly rising
a wind about my sail
to calm me as I build up to
a moment of my truth.
Where do I sing from?
No microphone or recorder
follows me around
making what shall soon become
lost in a myriad of webs.

Perhaps my days are all of good;
tea awaits my silent lips
even when the sun has risen cold
and my time spent entranced in forest
are met with caribou and grouse.

So maybe the I shall speak a little,
whistle a little to my tune
that whispers it’s short breath inside
each window I look out upon
and lays my ever waxing moon
into swirl of my tea leaves
where my moment comes just as the last
a fragment to be had and gone.

Lost Wings

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Seperatism loses me
It’s a lost art
Guided by a nobody train
And nobody to sing
Nobody has sung.
I look into your eyes
And I see missing
I see wallowing sorrow
And a stained glass window
Echoing a cold statue
With angel wings
Sainted.
We can be friends
But I wont ask to meet you there
Instead
Walking alone
Listening to nothing more
Than each voice inside my head.

Not Spoken

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I’m not spoken anymore
Dried in a bottom of dust
Let my soul sing
With fire sparks tonight
Can’t I get along alone
For Coyote whispers
And Dog whispers back.

Forget every song
I’ve written all wrong
Glory and frail,
Perfect and undone
Startling morning sun
My breath: heavy hung
For Coyote whispers
And Dog whispers back.

Empty this bucket
Lost in a sea
Between footsteps
Greeting me
And it’s dark
Close my eyes
To forget
For Coyote whispers
And Dog whispers back.

What Is Blessing?

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What is blessing?
What is blossom?
What does hard work
Have to do
With my faith and trust?
How often does govern
Intervene with my magic,
Causing my inner blessing
To be lost in a sea of greed.

For my beacon
And my bacon
Do not get seared
Upon the same boiler.
I am a beacon
Like the sun;
Guiding by virtue,
Blazing in darkness,
Finding strength
Through built upon resistance,
Friction in consciousness,
And letting go
Until I no longer need to grasp.

Sitting here I hear policemen
Waving flags and shaming.
Sitting here I hear lawyers
Convincing me of wrongdoings.
Sitting here I hear government
Enacting laws of oppression.
Sitting here I hear,
And I see busy-ness
Building friction
To work itself into
Hellfire inferno.

From this darkness
Ignites foreverago,
A lost simplicity
Sitting in calm;
A bird singing,
A simple inclination,
Base necessities.
There is luxury in nothingness.
There is excess in freedom flow.
There is grand
In what we havent nurtured:
In an ancient Douglas fir,
In ripples of a frozen river,
In breath of wind,
In depth of a blossoming tulip.
There exists here
The base and carnal glow
Lifting thy vibrational flow.

What is blessing?
Did it come to you wrapped?
Did it accompany you from third to fourth gear?
Did it fly with you in a jet aeroplane?
Was it bought at Louis Vuitton?
Was it rolled up and smoked?
Was it intervened in a safety net,
An involuntary rule?
An orgasm of confusion?
What is blessing?

Peaceful Protest (day 3195)

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It wasn’t long before the crowd decided to gather
It was as if they had somewhere to be
Anxious and outbursts of anger
Flamethrowers from each their eyes.
They sang songs together of hope,
They sang the chorus in colour
The sang songs of hatred and peace
That scared the gathering police
And soon the rain clouds got angry
Torrenting down into the middle
Like bullets from by-standing police
Who swore they had nothing to do
With madness that ensued
For panic was an unending trip
In hearts of guests along the important strip
No longer singing together
With a message that was coherent
They were all babbling and sobbing with fear
And the rain clouds kept on pouring
Signs were all soggy and boring
One by one they were ripped up and thrown
To the ground who took it all in
Who in all of this madness remained calm.

From Afar (day 3091)

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Little blackbird little blackbird
You sit there so lonely
Your friends along the line
Not away, not too far.
I see you agitated
Worried and lonesome
Watching them get along
Where you sit, from afar.
Why don’t you start singing
To the day through the air,
To the sunshine that hits you,
To Spring coming in the air,
Your singing so beautiful
Would attract every ear
From Pictou to River John
From afar to right here.

Singing (day 3058)

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I am trying to get it to sing to me
Willing it with my mind
And even as I sit here calm
I wonder how long it will remain.

No sound do I dare make
For fear that it should be startled
On its mind, no doubt instinctual
Hunting for its food.

I listen to the night sky pass
My heart and orbs of light
My mind full of nature’s song
I hope it will remain.

Sweetest Song (day 2997)

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Sing to me your sweetest song
I heard you singing over there
Append to that a touch of heart
I crave for, like morning to start.

Should each new day
Bring me your so-sung song
I should fall into eternal reverie
At once awoke and set so free.

Long ago I wondered if
A bird’s sweet song could be sung again
And at every chance I so spun
I listened on so intent.

Then I heard you open up
With such lyric that touched my heart
At once I was deeply touched
And longed again: your sweetest song.

Forever (day 2944)

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You’d better not steal the show
Before the guests leave the room
Lost and confused
Like red in the eye
Of Three happy youngsters
Who married the feeling
That covered their sadness
Locked in two rusty fences
Six days till November
And their faces all fallen
Cold in their bones singing
What mud cannot speak
With gospel now favoured
With two plates of pasta
And a belly that rumbles
Remaining the sideshow
Forever untitled.