if i was a young man again
would i put myself on that train
that took me from you
when we were young and in love
i knew it was forever
during the war as a soldier
i waited for your letters
that didn’t come
you must have sent letters it seems
or at least you did in my dreams
when i returned, i married
we raised up a child
my daughter is grown and my loving wife
long since has died
and i think of you
©
there’s a drummer in my living room
playin’ music all day long
and a singer always steps right in
makes up words to a new song
before you know it, the house is rockin’
people dancing outside the door
then somebody hears a knockin’
it’s the police . they’re sayin’
you can’t play that music any more
we said hey, policman step right in
we’ve got nothin’ to hide
if you really want to come into my house
you’ve got to leave that gun outside
don’t you know that ol’ guy did it
left his gun outside the door
after he came in and danced awhile
he didn’t need that stupid ol’ gun
… any more
there’s a drummer in my living room
playin’ music all day long
a singer always steps right in
makes up words to a new song
before you know it the house is rockin’
people dancing outside the door
then somebody hears a knockin’
it’s the police again, he says
can i come in and dance some more?!
©
©
oh vivian, little trevor
you came in the hard way
blazing a trail before you
they named you for the storm
but your heart is full of sweetness
tantrums filled with passion
the love that comes out from you
will keep your folks warm
when the clouds gather over head
thunder rumbles in my ear
the two of you come to my mind
as the storm gathers near
then the sun peaks ’round the edge
of those clouds that did deliver you
i remember our happiness
when trevor made it to two
vivian
big brother trevor
i wish for you a good life
lazy summer sunshine
bluegrass in the rain
when those clouds come to greet you
you’ll answer with a smile
stand up and say i am the storm
then dance on down the lane
vivian, little trevor
oh, vivian, big brother trevor
oh, vivian
©
©
mind goin’ a million miles an hour
stephanie, stephanie
it must be the battery
stephanie, it must be, y’know
it’s run by electricity
how’d you know that, son?
that a battery might make it run
that a battery holds ‘lectricity
did somebody explain?
or is it just your amazing brain
running rampant as it’s always done
but no
it’s the watch in the video tray
that you or teak put in to play
oh, abel
mind goin’ a million miles an hour
stephanie, stephanie
mario runs up the slide
stephanie, he’s got to go
up over the great divide
how’d you know that, son?
which direction mario needs to run
just exactly where he needs to hide
did you write it all down?
his escape route in monster town?
you had a mind like the rising sun
and now
my heart is breaking to see you go
where the sky meets the fallen snow
abel
mind goin’ a million miles an hour
stephanie, stephanie
i wish you had seen me change
stephanie, i fell in love
with the blessed high mountain range
how’d you do that, son?
go from anger to so much fun
becoming one with the wilderness
did somebody teach you?
how did you know to push on through?
you’re heart wide open to everyone
my boy
we’re so thankful we had you here
all i can do is shed a tear
abel
med·i·cine
[ˈmedəsən]
NOUN
the practice of diagnosis, treatment, and prevention of dis-ease
spell, charm, or fetish believed to have healing, protective, or other power
per·cuss
[pərˈkəs]
VERB
gently tap (a part of the body) with a finger or an instrument to diagnose
“the heart was percussed”
HEART FOUND TO BE NEEDING MORE PERCUSSION
per·cus·sion
[pərˈkəSHən]
NOUN
musical instruments played by striking with hand, stick or beater, or by shaking, including drums, cymbals, xylophones, gongs, bells, rattles
the striking of one solid object with or against another
wind producing a clattering percussion of tree branch against stone
[ˈriT͟Həm]
NOUN
a strong, regular, repeated pattern
WOMEN BLEED WITH REGULARITY, IN PREDICTABLE RHYTHM WITH THE MOON
drum
[drəm]
VERB
play on a drum
NOUN
a percussion instrument sounded by being struck with sticks or hands, typically cylindrical, barrel-shaped, or bowl-shaped with a taut membrane over one or both ends
something resembling or likened to a drum in shape, in particular
an evening or afternoon tea party of a kind that was popular in the late 18th and early 19th century
WOMEN GATHERED IN A DRUM, TO DRUM
raised arm
open hand
striking sacrificed skin of lamb, buffalo, horse, goat
mined metal or carved wooden frame or vessel vibrating
producing antidote
we drum . we become drum
closed heart opening with each beat of drum
pounding of heart opening chakra after chakra
reopened channels funneling divine nourishment
body and spirit align
we dine on sound
dancing around the cherished goddess, embodied in teacher
we again become the goddess
we learn . we become teacher
we heal . we become healer
marimba sneaks up to the drum
dances it’s peaceful, seductive mantra alone
rhythm marries tone
frequent high and low wooden voice
speaks to it’s lover with ease
drum and marimba resonate
a palpable palliative essence
air passes from lung to tip of tongue, past pursed lips
or through wide open mouth
controlled by larynx
toned muscle delivering tonal clarity
muscle contraction release contraction release
spatial compression expansion compression expansion
trapping air, releasing POP
capturing air, releasing BA . bo bo
words from any language sung in rhythm
whispered secret
murmured grief
melodic healing tone
cry of anguish
exclamation of joy
healing verbal expression bringing relief
we sing . we become song
closed heart opening with each beat of drum
pounding through sorrow
dun dun . dun dun . dun dun
taka taka
dun dun
taka taka
dun dun . dun dun . dun dun
taka taka
dun dun
taka taka
dun dun
reopened channels funneling divine nourishment
body and spirit align
we dine on sound
murdered twice
a thousand times
noose, baton, bullet to the back
each electric jolt makes me shed my skin
i molt
then return again
with heart that you lack
you killed my body
then slandered my name
murdered me twice
in your violent game
lynched me as emmet
lynched me, tamir
you never dreaming
that your end is near
murder me now
keep eyes peeled for when
a million of me stand before you
flowers in hand, guns at the ready
we band together to tear you apart
by any means necessary
we’ll make a new start without you
my name is tamir
my name is emmet
my name is tamir
my name is emmet
my name is tamir
my name is emmet
rice and till
bound together by your violence
my name is legion
waking at every sound
or no sound at all
startled by silence
footprints down the hall
ghosts of real and imagined threat
wafting from rafters
crouching under floorboards
smirking from behind paintings of safe places
seeping out from fountains of fear
pent up emotion paces
exploding from mountains of weariness
years of exhaustion
my face wet
each teardrop an expression of grief
my own or someone else’s loss
engraved like a tattoo on my heart
then another, and another
just when i start to recover
yet another grieving father and mother appear
these worries are as real as my face
changing form with the mood
tangible as bills not paid
a table without food
honoring the prophet john trudell
prophet is dragged away kicking and screaming
or silently dreaming
leaving the battle behind
world steadily turning
churning with degradation, greed, confusion
reed blowing soft notes
whispering lamentation
reminder that earth is mother
humanity is other
voice of reason dispersed
tiny particles of sound joining ancestors
enormous soul of love joining ancestors
booming voice of warning joining ancestors
tiny particles of sound joining with my own soul
enormous soul of love joining with my own soul
booming voice of warning joining with my own soul
we suffer this loss in tearful silent weeping
loud wailing
intermittent grieving
as this spirit departs
our own spirits, refilled with passion
rise up to the daunting task
we will be replacing this guiding voice
with a million of our own tiny voices
intermittent grieving
alternating with bursts of new action
this one soul departing
leaving many souls replenished
as we bemoan loss of this prophet
we eat his words for breakfast
shoring up our promise to continue his work
his courage becomes our own
his depth of knowing infuses our brains
his unrelenting tenacity
infusing our blood
a life sustaining transfusion
emphatically dispersing delusion
deadly forces lurking in shadows
now struggling to emerge
as the one voice of one man
multiplies to millions
the prophet becomes the people
the people become the prophet
for the past many decades, there has been an obvious concerted effort to dumb down amerikkka . soon, only the children of wealthy parents will have access to education . it’s almost that way already
the result is a bank of voters who purposefully vote for ‘representatives’ who are like them : uneducated or at least inexperienced, close minded, selfish, hypocritical, narcissistic … all ignorance based ‘attributes’ …
now, with the advent of corporate news collectively taking on the persona of professional liar, the ignorant working and middle class are either too dumb to really understand what’s happening, too busy just trying to stay afloat to feel able to do anything about it; or they’re racist fucks who are celebrating the pain of those they despise, even while they, themselves, suffer the indignities of poverty
©
this is rage
boiling since first memory
creeping from sub to consciousness
seeping through unclogged pores
leaking like spores
polluting peace like so many gunshots fired
containing rage
is like trying to hold water in a fist
©