POURING SHADE
Pour
some shade on the road
to cool my feet
pour some on my hands
tired from the week
pour some sweet shade on my head
I need some relief
Let it flow like honey
drip like maple syrup
serve me a glass of lemonade
stirred to the taste of sweet shade
Pour it over everything
Pour it on a rainbow
Even
the colors of nature want to know
how it feels to taste sweet
PORT OF NEW ORLEANS
(1)
do you remember the stories told by the old people
did you ever talk to them when they were alive
their eyes camera’s catching images
invisible people revealing things like spies
Willie’s boy
a defiant slave
a back tattooed by a whip
screams echoing down the cycles of time
blood of the people spilling on the ground
after freedom come the bayou claimed him
deep in her murkiness and shadows
magical things to come
the trees rings held stories
whispered in his head
anguish was his energy
he saw visions of defiance
he wanted his enemy dead
he took an axe, a chisel, and a hammer
he struck wood
there was a face in there crying for a chance to exist
he struck wood
a wooden head appeared with a mouth opened to god
he struck wood
a body came out
and two sparrows singing a tune
he struck wood
it became a dinner table with a family undivided
eating as one
the old people remembered the wagon
wooden heads and bodies up to no good
bent in unlikely positions
Willie’s boy left them at the Port of New Orleans
blood stained grotesque figures of former masters
he hoped it scared them to death
(4)
Words float here not boats
on the horizon ideas beckon
links of the alphabet rise from the ocean floor
anchors away
words head out to sea
black people are seeking a new adventure
ancestors have released us to go
if America is not enough then we need to find more
remember how we pushed Satchmo
remember how we danced that night
remember it was all that we had been through
that knocked down that door
it’s time for us to head out
leave the Port of New Orleans
our journey has always been about imagination
Martin Luther King said I have a dream
Michael Jackson, Coltrane and Obama are real
life can be more than just a dream
I
am going on this journey
I am heading out to sea
to strike the wood in my imagination
bring back the faces I discover there
if I get lost
send someone to find me
don’t let me be like the children sold at Thanksgiving
the remains of old refrains of New Orleans
it’s such a sad thing when a mother knows
her child is never coming back home
bring me back alive
I will have stories of my own to tell
tall tales and truth
words I brought back from the sea
instruments of my imagination
resting on the next wave
nothing but the freedom of idea’s ahead of me
GLANCE
if
glance had a mouth
it would be the sound
of a jockey winning by a nose
FIRST WORDS
the animal in me is now apparent
the teeth in my mouth separate me from
all other creatures
my stomach prepares to receive the food
I
place in my mouth
the moments of my fledgling individuality
has begun
the undertaking I have prepared myself
for rears its opposite heads
the steps I take set me upon this path
once begun they can never be retraced
they are now only memories
THE LEADER
Those
that are eager to lead
must take the path of servitude
seek a reluctant one
whose light and wisdom emanate
from the love of the people
Guardians rally to him quickly
receiving the word in descending order
calling the faithful to the path
the disc of holiness refined for the mind
delivered in a room of silent praise
His coming forth announced by the strangeness of the wind
SMILE
look
at yourself
see the true witness of HaHiYa’s
blessing
and
smile
BAIT
If
you have done
harm to anyone
walk don’t run
let god catch you
only god can save your soul
if
a man orders you
to harm anyone
walk away from that man
Pray
that the people trapped
in a nation of pain
lift the tombstones engraved on their faces
put your feet on the road of the unshackled
and stand still
let god catch you
my dear ones
don’t you know that it is god that has been chasing you
stop walking and talking
life is the line tossed into a sea we call living
we are the bait god is the hook
let him catch you
let HaHiYa celebrate
the saving of another soul
peace and peace and peace
POURING SHADE
I
met
a
man
who
was
as
quiet
as
space
he said
he
got
that way
listening
to
god
pouring
shade
CRY OF BEAUTY #9
bless
those who entertain us and
give us joy that reaches the soul
bless those that hold up the clouds
for shade for old people
bless those that jump on the backs
of the wicked to protect the innocent
put golden hands on the path of children
to guide their walks
bless the woman who cannot feed her children
too many men have run away
bless the wound
that cut away the good feeling in his heart
bless the journey of laffing souls
they got on the road that leads back home
bless the sun and moon and wind and water
and mud and stone and plants and bees
without them we could not feed ourselves
or have any idea of how to build a home
FEELINGS
if
I
began talking about love
how do I stop
your smile reassures me
If
I try to hold back this emotion
my eyes search thru the moments
to make you reappear
Feelings
that roll
pulled by the moon
do you know who the moon is?
Love is lavender
a deep hue that makes us bend
bowing in reference before this throne
I surrender my loneliness retrieving it from a hole
walking into the deepest part of you
embracing the awakening rays of your sunshine
as I leave the trees lean back
thrilled by the touch of love
POURING SHADE
god said I could touch you if you let me
and a tear fell upon my soul
lie down near that bush in the shade
and he sang in my ear with the music of crickets
come to the river and put your hand in
the water poured over me soft and cool
god then said if I pour shade over you to
strike out the rays of the sun what will you do
I said I will be still in that moment
and let you touch me
SMOKE ON THE GROUND
I see a wasteland of bodies without heads
a generation disconnected from their ancestors
their heads split into degrees of pain and suffering
Released from broken buildings
words of fire escape
the sound of hip hop ripped from heads
floating in the hood
the nation of a brown skin people
whose child is missing
Angels fly on human rockets searching for souls
burning bodies just smoke on the ground
run into tomorrow
looking at yesterday
alive next door
the cycle of misery a treadmill that goes on and on
changing the song by switching the words
symphony’s of discord grind on street corners
backed by the horns of gunshots
the syncopation of the rape of a nation
the blood of passing made by holes in the back
lying men bring flowers smoking from gunfire
let me be the one who says it is time for us to stop
let me be the first one
and the last one to say I’m sorry
let me be the one
looking in the eyes of the brown nation
say joy has replaced sadness
say that the missing child
the messenger of hope is coming home
a full grown man
the moment of healing
resurrected ashes of burning bodies
smoke on the ground rises
evaporated by the light of the sun
ancestor receive us
sing songs we haven’t heard before
the Cry of Beauty in a city of peace
IMAGINE
I went to the highest authority imaginable
your heart was on display
expanding into the universe
in love with all that could be touched
this thrilling heart bowed gracefully
by the light of the all mighty
You have brought love to me
a gift to hold and embrace
each moment a monument built upon steps of desire
each moment the trace of your lips ripples away
only to be replaced by the next wave of deep kisses
when love is new it is a band of music
we can be a silly symphony
we can be free
we can feel the earth's breeze
as it roars through the trees
our skin so sensitive we dissolve each time we touch
I want you to know that I place much reverence
on what we have come to know
on what we sharing
I want you to know the serious side of this
that we can lie beside still water
naked without fear
without ever worrying about wearing masks
to hide something from the past
if we were out of control
I want you to know that I am married to your soul
I want you to know
that I love you as much as you love me
eternity awaits us
lets go..... lets go