Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
A walk in the rain is like constant kisses from her grace, Mother Earth. But, I fear of getting wet and left to dry alone. The cats and dogs are barking loud and I fear the rabid drool that soaks the rocks and glass that make the streets. I watch cautiously from my window that provides a barrier of safety from the cars that hit and run through the evil four legged beings that play in the street. I hope no one else feels as I do about the rain. I dream that some time today the angels will cease their intolerable crying. But, at the moment I want to console them and ensure them that I am here for them.
The trees taunt me by waving their branches at me. They point their leaves like fingers at me. I am filled with shame and overwhelmed with anxiety. The voices that howl through the blades of grass ask me to join them in a dance. I am unsure. The wind plays music inviting us to embrace and cut through the bone chilling notes with one last rain dance.
To all my fellow cats and dogs...let's break and dance for we are not dead...Hip Hop is not DEAD...
The trees taunt me by waving their branches at me. They point their leaves like fingers at me. I am filled with shame and overwhelmed with anxiety. The voices that howl through the blades of grass ask me to join them in a dance. I am unsure. The wind plays music inviting us to embrace and cut through the bone chilling notes with one last rain dance.
To all my fellow cats and dogs...let's break and dance for we are not dead...Hip Hop is not DEAD...
The world is upset just over the horizon
She cries insatiably
Or so I have been told
By the intoxicated writers
Who push the angry clouds that bear
Pleasure and pain through the sky
With their words that match God
His angel's, Thunder and Lightening, tear pages
From the Heavens of Hell
The flowers bow in reverence
Possibly out of fear
Stems desperate for the blessings that dance in each rain drop
The trees shed years and surrender
The ink that runs through the veins of trunks
Full of treasured thoughts
A storm of shallow anger that blow short gusts
Of fire at the soles of Mother Earth
For even the eyes of a storm's mystery shall have a crack of sun
She cries insatiably
Or so I have been told
By the intoxicated writers
Who push the angry clouds that bear
Pleasure and pain through the sky
With their words that match God
His angel's, Thunder and Lightening, tear pages
From the Heavens of Hell
The flowers bow in reverence
Possibly out of fear
Stems desperate for the blessings that dance in each rain drop
The trees shed years and surrender
The ink that runs through the veins of trunks
Full of treasured thoughts
A storm of shallow anger that blow short gusts
Of fire at the soles of Mother Earth
For even the eyes of a storm's mystery shall have a crack of sun
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
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